#people pointing out she has a trans flag in her bedroom

[scottsumrners]

#gwen stacy #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #people pointing out she has a trans flag in her bedroom #and others going 'she's an ally!' like hm. how many allies do you know have trans flags in their bedrooms? quick

[thorns-are-simps]

hi thank you for responding to my post <3. I don't typically leave requests so sorry if this is a bit awkward lol. can you write some comfort for a really dysphoric reader. like doesn't want to leave their room levels of dysphoric. preferably with he/him pronouns. again thank you!!

YES! Okay good you found the blog- can’t leave their room levels I got you that was the prompt I needed!

Mystic Messenger Characters Comforting a Gender Dysphoric Reader Part 1

For clarification: he/him pronouns for reader! The reader is a trans man.

Yoosung

That’s okay he can set up his games in your room.

He knows what gender dysphoria is, he went through a gender questioning phase at one point, so he’ll try to take your mind off of it.

He sets up a game with a customizable MC and tells you to make the avatar with him.

He tries to distract you as best he can, using games and food to keep your attention on anything else.

He repeatedly tells you he loves you throughout the day, forgetting about any college work he needed to do in favor of cuddling up with you in your bed and having fun.

He’ll hold you in his lap if you want, giving you his hoodie.

He’ll always offer up anything in his closet and drawers for you to wear if your want to.

He’ll talk to you about different trans characters he knows of in games and their backstories to show you some representation.

He tries to comfort you through showing you aren’t alone.

Your phone pinged, the sound of your phone’s text tone going off. You didn’t want to go out today, you wanted to stay in your room where no one would misgender you. But alas, your boyfriend was spam texting about a new game he’d just gotten. You hesitated in allowing Yoosung to come over, knowing he would probably not msg ended you but still not wanting him to see you. Something you’d always adore about him though was that he loved to be around you and could be persistent when he chose to be.

“MC I brought the game! You’re gonna love it! We can make the coolest hero ever and they’re gonna be great. Not as great as you but nobody is. We can even make them look like you if you want! You’re so handsome you know that? You in armor as a shinning knight… you’re already gorgeous, I didn’t know the image could get better. I’m getting flustered and red aren’t I?” He was. “Sorry, you’re just so handsome. Oh did I tell you about the trans LOLOL character they just released? He’s so cool you’re gonna love him! I brought some snacks too, you can snuggle up in my lap while we play if you want!”

Zen

You have what?

Gender dysphoria?

Your gonna have to explain it to him. If you’re don’t want to or can’t just ask him to look it up and he will.

As soon as he understands what it is at least a little he’ll directly ask you what he can do to help.

If you’re to the point you can’t leave your bed then he’ll simply get into bed with you.

He’ll hold you close, his arm around your hips and whisper to you all the things he loves about his boyfriend.

He’ll tell you about his handsome boyfriend who is gorgeous and drives him crazy just by existing.

He’ll tell you about his boyfriend who is so strong and so brave and he is so proud of you. You make his day so much brighter.

Zen comforts you in words.

He tell you you’re handsome and looks you in the eyes to tell you…

Zen was worried. He had just come home from work, having to leave soon after you both woke up and barely having time to really spend the morning with you. When he got him he usually shouted out that he was back, hoping his amazing boyfriend would hear him and call back. However that didn’t happen today. Today all he received was silence. He looked around the apartment, not finding his love until he finally checked the bedroom, seeing you curled up under the blanket and not in a good mood.

“What’s wrong babe?” He came over to try and console you for whatever you were going through but when you told him, he almost felt helpless. He’d never had to experience this before and didn’t know how to handle it. All he knew to do was to comfort you how he normally would. He slipped into bed with you and pulled you close to his chest, his arm around your hip and hand on your back. As he rest his head close to your’s he spoke in the softest tone he could, trying to be gentle. “You know how I’m so handsome right?” As much as you loved to stroke his ego, now wasn’t the time. “Believe it or not, I have a boyfriend who is even more handsome than me. I swear he could get me to do whatever he asked with one look into his eyes. I’m not sure if he knows exactly what he does to me. Every time I see him I have to hold myself back from pulling him in for a kiss. His lips aren’t always the softest but that just one more thing that makes him so… him. He’s real and he’s stronger than he gives himself credit for. He thinks sometimes that I won’t like his body after he fully transitions but… the truth is he could of come to me in any form. And his heart is what would of pulled me in. The way my prince loves me for me is why I’m here. He gets this thing called gender dysphoria which must really suck, but my prince is strong. I know he’ll make it through. And if he needs someone to lean on, he knows his faithful knight is always here to hold him up. I love you baby, and I know that my love can’t solve everything, but you know what it can do? Tell you that you’re the most handsome being on this planet. “

Jumin

You’ll have to explain it to him. If you don’t want to them he looks it up himself, feeling that whatever is making you so upset to the point of not leaving your room is very much too important to task to someone else to research.

He, unfortunately, can’t cancel his work day and makes you aware of this with a kiss to the head and a promise to be back as soon as he can be.

While he is at work and between meetings he texts you as he does research on gender dysphoria, asking you if you’d like to talk to a therapist about it, if you want to go shopping for a binder on his next day off, and if you’d want him to help you pay for any hormones and surgeries in the future.

He’ll offer to take you suit shopping as well, saying his tailor can do amazing things to give you whatever shape you want.

He also offers you his wardrobe. His clothes may or may not fit you as some of them are fit to his specific body but if there is something in there you want to try on he has no problems letting you.

He asks Jaehee to go get you a trans flag and deliver it to the apartment while he does work.

He tries his best to comfort you through gifts.

He’ll also try physical affection through kisses. Lots… and lots… of kisses.

Jumin Han was tired. Work was exhausting and he wanted nothing more than to sit in bed with you and listen to your voice. On his way into the door of your shared apartment he hears Elizabeth the 3rd jumping off something in the distance and starting to make her way towards him, as she always does when he gets home. He puts all his stuff down and feed Elizabeth, petting her head, before making his way to your bedroom. When he sees you it’s like his entire body relaxes. He undresses and puts on his pajamas, asking you how your day eases

“Did you like the flag? I looked up which one was the correct version and made sure assistant Kang got the correct size for the walls. Feel free to hang it up wherever you like. I know a tailor that will give you whatever shape you want love, I can book you an appointment with him if you’d like. He’s worked with a plethora of people so he’ll understand what you mean if you say your want to look like the man you are. I can also book you an appointment with a reputable doctor to discuss boron ones or surgery if you wish. Don’t worry about paying for anything, let me spoil you. Now come here snd let me show you how much I love the amazing man in my bed.”

Part 2

Part two will include 707, Jaehee, V, and Saeran!

#mystic messenger x you #mystic messenger #mystic messenger yoosung #yoosung x reader #yoosung kim #zen x reader #mystic messenger zen #hyun ryu #mystic messenger x male reader #jumin han #jumin x mc #jumin x reader #zen x mc #jumin mystic messenger #mystic messenger jumin

[scarecoen]

Trigger warning ⚠️ domestic violence.

I've typed this story a million times so I'm just going to summarize as much as I can.

A few days ago I was assaulted by my partner's family members. And as I've mentioned, I've typed this a million times and I'm honestly just exhausted thinking about it, but we could use some help.

My partner has always had a transphobic family. (I don't have anyone but my dad, who's in no position to help anyone.)

Her mom used her disability against her and manipulated her into giving her MOST of her checks. She's abused the system and my girlfriend.

When I met Jackie, she was with a terrible biggot. Jackie had came out, and her mother conspired with an abusive long distance ex, to fly her here, to stage an "intervention" and stop my partner from transitioning.

It worked. For years.

I met Jackie here on tumblr, we became good, SECRET friends because she wasn't allowed to talk to anyone.

I told Jackie openly about my views regarding gender and how I myself, was not cis.

Eventually she told her partner about us playing games together, which she responded to by harassing me.

Jackie ended up spilling the beans to me, about her mom, about the ex, everything. I realized that she had been extremely isolated and controlled her whole life.

So I intervened.

I got the two of them to separate, which wasn't smooth because Jackie was scared. She had been with her abuser for 9 years at this point. She's never known anything else.

The ex moved back to her state, and I started seeing Jackie, although she was stuck at her mom's... who was trying to play innocent at this time.

Eventually, I kinda just came and picked her up, she stayed the night, she didn't want to go back home. And I can't blame her. The house wasn't only disgusting, her family microagressed her all the time and they would tell her to pretty much stay in a dark room all day.

Ofc I didn't bring her back.

During early quarantine, we had a lot of self reflection and she started distancing herself from her mother, coming around to holding her accountable for her horrible actions.

Her mom messaged her things like "Why won't you talk to me? It's like you're trying to punish us!" Ect, just every fucking manipulative thing she could say, without ever apologizing.

Unfortunately the place we were staying fell through when my best friend's ex husband decided he wants a divorce and decided to throw in some transphobic hatespeach towards me.

We were all looking for somewhere to go.

I'm sure you know where this is going but listen, she told us EVERYTHING we wanted to hear. She told us she's not hateful now, told us she would go to trans support groups, pride, said she's realized how much she loves Jackie and it's time to accept her- and look- we had NO WHERE TO GO. We have 2 cats and at the time, a car that has no a/c or functional locks. AND I have a chronic autoimmune condition that I recently started taking chemo meds for. (Methotrexate.)

I'm too sick to be on the street, and survive. I had to think about me, Jackie, Zoe, and Boops.

And Jackie wanted to go..

I told her we'd be cautious and try to get out asap.

Well, looking for places right when the housing market crashed really fucked us up. That- and because I had only just finally got approved for disability, means I was set back in life- and had no credit to my name. No credit= no place to live.

I had almost built enough, but things went down hill very quickly with her family. Which leads us to right now:

After weeks of microagressions, giving us breakthrough covid cases, yelling at us to clean other's messes, and forcing us and our cats to isolate in our room, many broken promises, and straight up transphobic hatespeach (because she promised to get vaccinated but then said nvm as soon as we moved in and she went on vacation and got covid and gave it to us, which nearly killed me--) she said not getting the vaccine "IS A CHOICE, JUST LIKE YOU BEING TRANS AND TAKING *gestures to my testosterone* THOSE DRUGS."

We just were avoiding each other while I desperately try to gather resources for us to get out, NOW.

Of course, that wasn't good enough, so when her step father messaged her in all caps about our cats having to stay in our room and "I WON'T FUCKING TELL YOU AGAIN" my partner had a breakdown..

Her mom had let her step dad talk to her like this her whole life, basically.

Out of desperation, we went to her sister for help, maybe hoping she'd give us a place to stay for two weeks while we sign off on the lease for our new apartment.

She pretended to want to help and even said... something fucking weird? She made the comment that I'm a good person and I'm so much like her own boyfriend, that it's "scary"...

A few hours later she came to the house. She talked nicely to us, to gain access to our bedroom.

Then she attacked me.

I called the police right before, and was on the phone with dispatch when she lunged at me because she was aggressively trying to MAKE Jackie go into a separate room WITHOUT ME and Jackie was saying no, BEGGING her to STOP.

I wasn't going to let her take Jackie into that room. She looked fucking crazy.

All of the family came into our room, her two sisters, her mom, and her cousin- When they heard yelling.

It was actually me telling her mom that she's a terrible mother, that triggered her sister to try and attack me- although I knew she was planning on trying to from the moment she came into our room.

And that was after her mom was screaming in my face that if I have something to say, say it now.

Dispatch heard everything and sent emt as well...

But the police stayed outside, talking to them for a WHILE before even asking for us.

Her cousin is the only one that would have stood up for me, saying her sister never should have tried to hit me. But he was in the room with Jackie, giving her support...

I faced the cops alone.

He already had "that look."

He shined a light into my eye, letting the family stay on the porch, throwing insults and just letting it happen. He asked me where I'm hurt, and before I could even show him the scratches on my arm, he said "how do I know YOU didn't put those there?"

I wanted to fucking die in that moment.

This is a conservative city.

No one has equality stickers here. No one flies gay flags. People here that are lgbt- they LEAVE.

This is EXACTLY WHY.

I said "well is there any reason I should tell you anything when, clearly, you're already bias?"

I looked at the emts. I looked at his partner. I looked at all the lights and people coming out of their houses-

And behind me was her family.

Her sister that assaulted me, was laughing about having work in the morning.

All of them were looking at me, with hate in their eyes.

He tried to feed me bullshit about "well if I'm taking someone to jail, there has to be proof."

He dismissed everything I attempted to say, until I just stared at the ground and he decided he did his job here.

I told him my whole fucking body hurts because I had 4 people fucking toss my 100lbs ass all over the fucking room, which was a mess that he refused to look at.

He said "I don't see bruises."

I SPAT "BRUISES TAKE TIME?"

He retorted IMMEDIATELY- "YOU'RE NOT EVEN RED."

I asked what about the dispatcher- she seemed concerned- to which he said "you see, sometimes when people call us- they scream and be dramatic- for a quicker response."

I asked what we could do while the two weeks go by for our new place, and he fucking said "I DONT KNOW. BARRICADE YOURSELF IN YOUR ROOM OR SOMETHING."

Needless to say, we are now safe, in a hotel and I've gotten in touch with a few lgbt organizations that are attempting to help us get justice.

Unfortunately because it's a holiday weekend, all we can do is wait right now.

Our first order of business is getting a protection order, so that we can retrieve the rest of our things without her sister trying to attack us again. (I say us because she kept jumping towards Jackie, like she was threatening to hit her.)

I've been so gaslit and victim blamed that I was too scared to go to the er, even though this all happened in the midst of a flare, possibly including my liver health.

There's so much more to this story, as I'm sure other trans people can relate.. unfortunately.

The emts reluctantly offered to take me to the er, but I was like "and leave my partner here with them?" And he just fucking shrugged dude.

I hate this city.

I want out so bad but unfortunately I've committed to a year, but at least it'll be *our* apartment.

We could NOT stay there for two more weeks. Her step dad is a violent offender that has attempted to murder a homeless prostitute over some fucking pocket change- and he has a GUN in the house.

This hotel might run us into a hole, despite it being the cheapest, shittiest hotel in town, it's still going to be about 700$ for ONE week.

To ADD INSULT TO INJURY, SOMEONE ATTEMPTED TO STEAL MY VEHICLE WHILE WE'VE BEEN STAYING HERE.

I'm feeling incredibly paranoid and unsafe, but I'm on anxiety meds now at least and its SORTA helping us cope (My partner and I have the same Dr and she gave her permission to have some.)

The organization BRAVO is trying to help us with a hotel voucher, but because of all the natural disasters, it's hard to find room in charity for people like us, which is fair enough. We aren't immediately on the street, and for that I'm incredibly thankful.

However, if you or anyone you know wish to help you can donate to venmo: kittyzibby. Or you could just signal boost this.

If you can't help, I understand. And IF YOU'RE STRUGGLING FINANCIALLY, don't worry about it, for real.

Right now I'm just scared we'll go into debt before getting the apartment settled in.

I will update on things once our case moves along more, and we were already considering turning to OF sexwork before all of this, so if there could be support that way, maybe we'll get that going once we get moved in. That way, I feel good about providing a service in return.

Thank you so much for sticking with us during all of this. And really- we're doing much better today. We've given each other pep talks, but we are still determined to start our lives together.

Her family was merely trying to scare me away from her, but I got my girl's name tatted on me for a reason.

I know I'm not the bad person here.

Every time Jackie is feeling more gender euphoric, and showing me her changes, and seeing her get more confident, the more I know that what I'm doing with and for her, is right.

I love her so much. And I will never abandon her, like they tried to get me to do.

Jackie is taking a break from some socials, but she's given me permission to talk about what's been happening.

She needs justice too.

I will update as much as I can, but seriously, I think we both just have a fire under our asses now.

Mentally, we're stronger than ever.

Thank you for reading. My heart really goes out to the rest of the queer community that have experienced or are going through similar things.

It's really made me realize why we need to stick together and fight this bigotry bullshit! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

#tw abuse #tw #trigger warning #tw domestic violence #tw trauma #tw assault #tw hatecrime #tw transphobia #tw homophobia #alt #emoboy #emo boy #piercings #altboy #alternative #vent #trans #ftm #genderqueer #nonbinary #enby #nb #transmasc #transgirl #transpoc #trans poc #battery #bruises #tw bruises #tw scratches

[tranquil-space-ninja]

So, I had a Thought. This is a My Hero Academia thought, so if you're not into it or you don't watch it or are planning to watch it and don't want spoilers, ignore this. This also includes my OC, Remus Aizawa, who's the child of Eraserhead and Present Mic. Those two are married in this, so it's Erasermic, too. I guess people who don't like reading about other people's OCs or Erasermic should ignore this, then. But, there's some wholesome stuff amidst my usual incoherent ramblings, so if you want wholesome LGBTQ+ content, just keep reading.

So, after the dorms are instituted, but before the 1A kids take the provisional license exam, the teachers decide to have a parent-teacher conference thing where the parents come and visit their kids and stuff. This event lasts a week, and there are no classes during that week. Now, All Might's space is Friday at 6 PM, and he decides to have a group meeting where the entire class's parents come in and everybody hangs out together so the kids can show their parents what they're learning and how they interact with each other and All Might can answer any questions.

All Might has everybody sit in a circle together. Everybody sits with their parent(s). Remus sits next to Present Mic, and Mic's there holding Mr. Aizawa's hand. Because they're married. Most of the other parents are all :0 at it, but the kids are like, "This is Old News." All Might starts the meeting, and it goes smoothly for a while until Endeavor, being Endeavor, and this being before his 'I'm going to be a Good Person and New Symbol of Peace and hide the fact that I abused and neglected my wife and kids for years and expect them to be okay with that' bullshit starts, says something homophobic and enbyphobic about Aizawa, Mic, and Remus.

Remus is non-binary lesbian and uses she/he/they pronouns for projection reasons. She's only out to a few of her classmates. Those classmates are Yuga Aoyama, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Minoru Mineta, Katsuki Bakugou, Tenya Iida, and Rikido Sato, 5/7 of them only because Denki was a dumbass and forgot how to knock, then opened their bedroom door while they were stuck trying to put their binder back on after a shower (Denki is also trans in this AU, and helped them get unstuck, and they've been friends ever since). As for the rest of the class, all the girls think he's a boy, and all the boys think she's a girl. (But 🎵he's not a boy, she's not a girl, can I make it any more obvious?🎵-- any Thomas Sanders fans here?)

So, when they hear this, the seven are like, "Oh, shit, Remus just got outed," and everyone else is like :0. Remus is in this weird limbo between, "Oh my god, I just got outed, what's everyone going to say?" and, "I don't care if he's the number 1 hero now, Imma punch this bitch for outing me and saying shit about my dads." She ultimately picks to punch the bitch and stands up, but Present Mic takes her wrist and makes her sit back down. After their initial shock, the other 1A kids start standing and yelling, and the parents are looking at each other like, "What do we do here?" And then, All Might yells for everyone to be quiet and tells the kids to go out in the hall while the grown ups have a Talk. They do so, mutering discontentedly.

While Mic and Aizawa are giving Endeavor the, I-don't-care-what-you-say-to-my-husband-and-I-but-if-you-come-after-my-kid-again-we're-gonna-have-a-problem talk, the kids are out in the hall talking to each other. The general consensus is that some of them are gay or trans, and it doesn't matter that they're the minority, this simply Will Not Do. They're brainstorming what to do, when Remus says, "I have Pride Flag stickers in my bag," and produces a huge-ass book of Pride stickers. By huge-ass, I mean there are 8 pages, 2 of each sticker shape, for every pride flag, with the exception of those created by TERFS and other exclusionists, in rectangle, heart, square, and circle shapes. The Ally Flag is there, too. So, after making sure if everyone who wasn't out yet was okay with it, the students start flipping through the huge-ass sticker book and grabbing their flag or flags. They each put a heart on each cheek and a big rectangle on their chest.

Denki wears the trans flag and the bi flag. Remus wears the nonbinary, ace, and lesbian flags. Mina wears the lesbian flag. Deku, Jirou, and Tsu wear the bi flag. Shoto Todoroki, Kirishima, and Bakugou wear the rainbow pride flag. Everyone else wears the Ally Flag. (This was my way of telling you how I headcanon each of the characters for the purpose of this story).

When All Might calls the students back in, they all hold hands or put their arms around each other and walk in together. The parents all stare at their kids wearing these brightly colored stickers, and All Might asks, "Um... What are you kids doing?" which is what everybody was thinking.

Mina yells, "This is a protest," and the students all cheer.

Bakugou follows that with, "That bitch--" pointing at Endeavor, "--was saying some homophobic and transphobic shit, and we're not going to fucking tolerate it! And you can't do anything about it because we all have quirks and together we can easily beat your ass, even stupid Deku over there." More cheering. Most of the parents joined in, because they're proud of their kids. Some are just shocked because holy shit their kid just came out to a whole room in protest their baby is so brave and strong and grown up now.

Then Tenya says, "As class representative, I'd also like to say something," to chants of "Speech, speech, speech!" Once that dies down, he continues, "After we moved into Heights Alliance, Remus Aizawa told me that the reason the League of Villains had kidnapped herself and Bakugou was to recruit them to their side. They tried to do so by telling her that society had no place for her, that if he ever came out to his friends, they'd alienate him, and brought up the fact that most of the world constantly misgenders and deadnames him. She declined their offer to join them, but I honestly wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't. With all due respect, Endeavor, your actions tonight were shameful. The level of intolerance you displayed has no place in Hero Society. I want all of you here tonight to know that the League of Villains was wrong. I may not be part of the LGBTQ+ community, but I think I speak for all of my cishet friends when I say we fully support our classmates who are, and when we're Pros, we plan to make sure this world is a place where everyone can be safe to be themselves, no matter their gender or sexuality. That is all. Thank you for your time."

The entire room was silent for a moment, then everyone but Endeavor started clapping. A few of the parents even asked for some of the Ally stickers, which Momo and Remus happily passed out.

Then there was Saturday, which had a few more parent-teacher conferences, and on Sunday, Class 1A threw a gender reveal/coming out party for Remus, Denki, Todoroki, Tsu, Bakugou, Jirou, Deku, and Kirishima. There were three cakes. One was frosted rainbow, with the cake the colors of the lesbian flag, and was full of M&Ms in the bi flag colors, and two were frosted white, one cake the color of the trans flag full of blue M&Ms and one full of yellow, white, black, and purple M&Ms, with cake the colors of the ace flag. There were also balloons that said, "It's a boy," and some with "boy" crossed out and replaced with "enby" everywhere. There also chips, soda, and fruits and vegetables (at Mr. Aizawa's request).

Were they trying too hard? Yes.

Was it a sweet gesture? Yes.

Did everybody have fun and enjoy the party? Hell yeah!

Anyway, that's the thing. That's the Thought. I hope you liked it!

#bnha #my hero academia #long post #oc #erasermic #present mic x eraserhead #hizashi yamada x shota aizawa #lgbtq+ #endeavor being an asshole as usual #all might #tenya iida slaying #tenya iida #katsuki bakugou #mina ashido #tw cursing #tw outing #two homophobia #tw transphobia

[thiswasinevitableid]

For a fic prompt! How about Duck and Indrid are childhood best friends who are college roommates. Indrid has been in love with Duck for years, but when Duck starts dating Minerva it throws Indrid into a deep depression. Ideally Duck and Indrid do get together in the end (though hopefully Duck and Minerva’s breakup isn’t nasty) and you can get as angsty as you’d like! Honestly the angstier the better is my motto! Also I’m all for Indrid still having future sight, if you’d like! Thank you SO MUCH!

Here you go!

Quick content note: it contains trans Duck, including a scene where Indrid takes his side when he comes out in PE and, it’s implied, that coming out is not well recieved.

Indrid Cold lays face down on his bed. His phone is shoved under the black cotton of his pillow case, and he’s drawn the windows shut against the warm August air. 

This is a misery of his own making, he knows this. He can’t decide if the fact that it’s a misery nearly two decades in the making is impressive or pathetic. 

To understand the origins of it, one has to rewind the tape of his life back quite a ways.

——————————————————-

Duck Newton is six years old and hunting for miners lettuce in his backyard, when he feels like he’s being watched. 

Looking up, he finds a face framed with shaggy dark hair, glasses perched on a pointy nose, peeking over the fence at him. As soon as the face sees him, it ducks back down. 

Weird. 

He goes back to foraging, only to find the face watching him again a minute later. This time, when it disappears, he clambers up the oak tree alongside the fence and scoots carefully out onto a limb that sticks out into the neighboring yard. The face, which belongs to a boy about his age, is staring up at him, as if he expected Duck to appear. He’s standing on the edge of the decorative fountain the old neighbors put in the yard. 

“Why’re you watchin me?”

“I wanted to know what you were doing.” 

“How come?”

“I’m bored. My dads are putting the house together and I don’t want to draw anymore.” He points to a stack of pictures, next to some crayons that are melting in the sun. 

Duck thinks; he hasn’t had anyone to play with since school got out. Leo, who lives down the block, is nine, so not as interested in having Duck trailing after him like a little brother as he used to be.

“…You wanna go see a huge crawdad?”

The other boy perks up, “I have no idea what that is.  But yes.”

“C’mon, meet me in the front yard. What’s your name?”

“Indrid.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“What’s yours?” Indrid crosses his arms, eyebrow raised

“Duck.”

Indrid stares at him, wide mouth curling up at one side. His stare is a bit unnerving, and Duck feels the need to explain himself.

“It’s a nickname.”

————————————————————

“I think that’s the same large one from last year.” Indrid peers over his sketchpad, staring down at a crawdad scuttling through the clear creek.

“Told you we shoulda put a colored tape on them or somethin so we could keep track.” Duck looks at the crustacean, and then back at the project he’s working on.

They’re nine years old, hazy and sleepy in the summer afternoon. This part of the creek is shaded, keeps them hidden from passersby and parents alike (they’ve learned to tell at least one parent where they’re going, after Greg, one of Indrid’s dad’s, panicked looking for them). 

“What are you making?” Indrid wiggles next to him in the grass, gnawing his pencil as Duck shows him. 

“S’a reed raft. I’m gonna see how far I can float it down the river.”

“I will draw a flag for it.” Indrid scribbles, and Duck grins at him. He continues, “I’m glad you’re back. I hate when you got to your uncle’s during the summer. I have no one to talk to.”

“You could talk to Dani.”

“She’s busy a lot.”

Duck looks a little guilty, “Did you get the postcards?”

“Uh huh.” Indrid nods, smiling at his friend to show there’s no harm done. He knows it’s not up to Duck where he goes. The postcards are pinned to his wall, along with his own drawings, some horror movie posters, and the postcards from the last two summers. 

“Oh, look at what I found while we were at the lake.” Duck reaches into his pocket, pulling out a smooth, wiggly-striped stone, “Uncle Jeff says it’s agate.” 

He holds it out and Indrid takes it, runs his fingers along the smooth, cool surface. It feels lovely. And it reminds him of what he likes most about being Duck’s friend; Duck can make anything, even a rock, seem interesting and special. 

Indrid is reminded of another reason he is lucky to have Duck the next morning. 

All the adults are down in the living room, talking worriedly. There’s been a car crash on the nearby highway, and one of the trucks was carrying something toxic. The school is closed, and everyone has been told to stay home because the air could be unsafe. 

Indrid is under all his blankets, his sketchbook thrown to the other side of the room.

“‘Drid?” The door creaks as Duck enters the bedroom. 

He wants to beg him to hide under the covers with him. He wants to tell him to go away. 

He sniffs, wipes his nose on his arm, and hears Duck turn towards the bed. The covers slowly lift, and Indrid blinks blearily, tearily up at him.

“Have you been cryin?” Duck looks worried. 

He nods. 

“Did you know someone who got hurt?”

“No. I, I saw it happen. In my head. Over and over last night. I thought I was imagining it. But then it happened. Th-that happens a lot, ever since my birthday. It’s like, like I see things and then sometimes they happen and sometimes they don’t. I draw them but, but I’m afraid if my dad’s find out they’ll, they’ll think I’m wrong, somethings wrong with me.” 

As he’s talking, Duck sits down next to him, rests his arm around his shoulders. 

“Nothin’s wrong with you ‘Drid. This is weird, but it don’t make you bad. You should tell you dads. They’re nice, they’ll help you.” He squeezes Indrid’s arm, smiling at him as he rests his head on his shoulder, “I’ll help you too.” He slips the agate from his pocket and into Indrid’s hands, moves their fingers over it in tandem until the motion soothes Indrid’s breathing down, then tucks it into Indrid’s pocket.

————————————————————————————–

“You okay ‘Drid?” Duck plops down on a cafeteria bench Kepler Middle School, Indrid poking glumly at his fruit salad. 

“We had oral presentations today. I did mine on my moth.” He taps the jar in front of him. A week or so ago it had contained a caterpillar that he and Duck had identified as belonging to a Banded Tiger Moth. Indrid had decided to raise it into adulthood, Duck helping him figure out which weeds to feed it before it went into its cocoon. When it emerges, he and Duck have the perfect spot picked to release it.

“What’s wrong with your moth?”

“Nice glasses, mothman!” A voice yells, two boys high-fiving when Indrid shrinks in on himself. 

“Hey, fuck you, mothman rules!” Duck thanks his lucky stars none of the cafeteria monitors heard him. He recognizes those two; they’re in Indrid’s CORE class with him, meaning the nickname has already spread. Indrid, with his tics and his tendency to finish people’s sentences, his glasses and scraggly appearance, has been pegged as a target for months. It makes Duck’s blood boil to see them turn something Indrid spent time looking after into an insult. 

That night, he grabs a sharpie and one of his grey t-shirts. 

The next day, he turns up with “Mothman Rules” scrawled on his chest. Indrid’s smile is worth the lecture he gets about messing up his clothes. 

———————————————————–

Indrid and Duck sit side by side in the principals office. Their gym clothes in Kepler Middle’s colors, grey and maroon, seem even grimmer right now.

They haven’t done anything wrong, not as far as Indrid is concerned. 

Duck stood in the boys line-up during P.E, that’s all. When he refused to move to the girls line, the teacher told the rest of the boys to line up all over again, elsewhere. They all moved, except Indrid, who insisted that Duck was in the right line and refused to play along with a bid to deny that.

They have been sent to the principal for “causing trouble.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Duck murmurs. 

“I did. You’re my friend, Duck. And Mr. H is an asshole.”

He thinks, but does not say, that it would take far more than a gym teacher and the threat of detention to leave Duck’s side when he’s in trouble.

———————————————————

It’s Indrid’s 16th birthday, and his dads are throwing a very subdued sweet sixteen. He dyed his hair silver, and they’ve ordered an entire table of desserts from a local bakery, and he, Duck, Juno, Dani, and Barclay have stuffed themselves while watching movies and teasing Dani for being ga-ga over her long-distance girlfriend, Aubrey, who she met playing an online tabletop games. 

Once the other three leave, Duck grabs Indrid’s jacket and hands it to him. 

“C’mon, lets go to the creek. Got somethin to show you.”

Indrid follows him, teasing him as they turn down the creekbed, “We’re not going to have a repeat of the beer incident are we?”

Duck laughs, “No. Learned better than to give that hummingbird palate of yours booze.”

They hit the familiar dirt of their favorite spot, and Duck gets on tiptoe and reaches into the trees above them. Strings of lights, red to match Indrid’s new glasses, and white, snap on. Below them is a blanket, and Indrid sits down with a perplexed smile. Then he checks the futures, and understands. 

“Is this entirely sanitary?”

“Enough.” Duck grins, pulling out a lighter and safety pin, “I did it on mine and I still got the ear.”

“Very well.” Indrid crosses his legs, checks the futures it be double sure this won’t end in infection, and braces himself, “left ear please.”

“Right. Okay, one, two-”

“OWowowowow.” 

“Done!”

“Ow.” Indrid winces as Duck cleans the newly-pierced ear, loosens his grip on the agate in his fist.

“Can’t believe you still carry that thing around.”

“I find it soothing. Ooh, how nice.” Indrid picks up the black moth-shaped earring Duck hands him. 

“Figured it’d be better to start with a smaller one. And now that you’re all done, you can officially burn your list.”

Indrid pulls a worn sheet of binder paper from his pocket. When he, and then Duck, turned fifteen, they wrote out lists of things they wanted to do before they hit sixteen. He crosses out get ear pierced, then mutters, “I’m still missing one.”

Duck looks at him quizzically. He turns the paper around and points to first kiss.

“Wait, I thought you and Carlos-”

“Nope. Never got that far before we broke up.”

Duck sits next to him, gets a mischievous grin on his face, “Think I know how to help.”

“How’s tha-”  

It’s barely a kiss, Duck bringing their lips together just long enough for Indrid to feel him sigh happily. Then he pulls back, still grinning. 

Indrid is certain that if he looked down at himself, his veins would be pulsing technicolor, his body lit up like the cheap neon in their tiny downtown. 

“Ta-dah, list complete.” Duck whispers. 

“Thank you.” Indrid whispers back. 

He doesn’t think much of it for the rest of the night, figures it’s just a meeting of Duck’s goofier side with his desire to help a friend. 

It’s only when he’s laying in bed, playing the kiss over and over again like a favorite song, that he realizes he might be in trouble. 

————————————————————-

Indrid knows the likely outcome, but that doesn’t stop him from leaping up excitedly when Duck bangs the front door open.

“‘Drid, I got in! did you, oh, hey Mr. Cold, did you?”

“Yes.” Indrid grins from the bottom of the staircase. 

“Oh hell yeah! Juno got in too! Maybe we can all be roommates.”

As much as Indrid would like that outcome, the arbitrary housing system of UWV Huntington has other ideas. Duck ends up partnered with an affable if often absent psych major, Juno gets a single in the same dorm, just two floors down, and Indrid is stuck with a frat-boy business major.

That doesn’t stop them from making the most of their first year of college. Indrid crashes on Duck’s floor some nights, and the two of them manage to swing having a film class together during spring semester. They each dip their toes into the wild sea that is college dating, with mixed results, trading advice and anecdotes in the dark of Duck’s room.

And none of that, not one single bit, does anything to dampen Indrid’s romantic feelings for his friend. 

It’s not that he doesn’t try, just as he’s been trying every day since his 16th birthday. He loves Duck as a friend, wants to be in his life forever. He can’t afford to love him any other way. It’s too risky. And so he tries, over and over and over, to quash those feelings. Sometimes they ebb, sometimes Indrid happily dates or hooks up with other people. 

But they always come back, like a faithful hound finding it’s way home. 

Because Duck will laugh in that ridiculous way of his, be vulnerable with Indrid in those private moments, make Indrid feel understood in a way no one else can. And he falls in love all over again. 

(And that’s before he even gets to the moments where Duck will strip his shirt off on hot days, or wander into the room in his boxer shorts, and Indrid feels the urge to plead with him for the privilege of feeling him up).

It’s because of all this that, when Duck asks if Indrid wants to move in together their sophomore year, he almost says no. 

But then he and Duck are sharing celebratory take-out in a half-unpacked apartment and he’s happier than he ever thought he could be. 

It’s not perfect by any means. Indrid can be messy, Duck can be terse, money can be tight. But Indrid is so at home with Duck, all that fades into the background. They have friends over, compare notes on dates, have junk food strewn study sessions on the couch, keep each other company during all nighters. 

Then, in May of their Sophomore year, things change. 

“‘Drid? Oh good, you’re still up. Um, I wanted to tell you somethin. Minerva and I are goin out.”

“Oh. That’s a bit unexpected.” Indrid sets his drawing aside.

“You tellin me you don’t use that magic-eight ball brain to spy on my love life?” Duck teases, plopping down onto the bed with him. 

“Never. So…why the switch from work-out buddies to this?”

“Dunno, just seemed like we’d been spendin a lot of time together. She actually tutored me back in high school, remember, so it’s kinda fun to be around someone who’s known me that long. Y'know, someone who watched me grow up.”

“I see.” Indrid kicks his jealousy until it goes limp and sinks back under the surface of his feelings, “well, that’s awesome then. I’m glad you’re excited Duck.”

And he is. It’s not a lie, goodness knows he’s well aware he has no claim to Duck’s affection or time. And Minerva does seem to make him happy, encourages Duck’s good habits like going to the gym (something Indrid has tried once and will never do again. Yoga and walking are fine by him).

But soon he cannot go anywhere with Duck, including his own apartment, without Minerva there. Duck spends all of his time with her, and Indrid learns it’s not just him; while Minerva is gladly included in their group get-togethers, Juno hasn’t seen Duck in weeks. And has barely heard from him. She is also a bit loud and Indrid, who has always had trouble with over-stimulation from noise, finds himself out of the apartment more and more often. 

Indrid can’t blame Duck for spending time with Minerva rather than him; she’s jockular, active, attractive (even if she does call Duck by his first name). Indrid is odd, reclusive, and well, weird looking. 

It all goes to hell at the end of August. 

“‘Drid! The study abroad program offered me a scholarship. I get to go to Brazil. This is so fuckin cool!”

“Wonderful!” Indrid claps his hands, “I know how badly you’ve wanted to go. You have to promise me to send me pictures of brightly colored bugs for art inspiration. Oh, and now we can tell Dani she has somewhere to stay while she and Aubrey look for a shared place.”

“Exactly. And guess what, it gets even better.”

“How-” he sees the answer coming, tries to keep his face neutral. 

“Minerva’s comin with me!”

“I wasn’t aware wildlife conservation and management was her area of interest.”

“It ain’t, but she’s comin as part of a grad study program. It’s gonna be so fuckin amazin.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The pull between his true feelings and his need to seem supportive renders his answer flat. 

“What’s up?” Duck sits down in the kitchen chair opposite him. 

“Nothing. Or, well, I suppose I’ve just now realized that I’ll be without a good friend for a semester. I’ll miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too, you big sap. Don’t worry, I’ll write you a bunch, send pictures too when I can.”

Indrid looks at the futures, then down at the table, “No, you won’t.”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?” Duck looks hurt.

“In all the timelines, you send me one postcard at maximum. In most of them, you send none. I slip your mind entirely, it seems.” His voice is tight.

“The fuck? How is that pos-”

“Any time not spent in the field, you are too engrossed by her to do anything else.”

Duck’s face hardens, “So that’s what this is really about.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lies. 

“You’ve been bothered by her since the start! You don’t think I notice that forced smile you get when she’s around, or the fact you leave the house when she comes over?”

“I get overstimulated when there is too much noise, you know that.” Indrid snaps back.   

“You hardly come out with us anymore, and you make it sound like she’s controlin me or some shit.”

“I, I do not. I just don’t enjoy when she barges in randomly.” He rubs his temples with his hands, trying to keep calm. 

“Christ, you really makin me choose between my best friend and the first girlfriend who’s made me feel this way? Why the fuck can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because it should be me and not her!” Indrid spits out, hands dropping to the table and gaze meeting Duck’s own. 

Duck blinks back at him, “Really? Really? You had a million goddamn chances to confess how you feel and you choose now?”

“I, I didn’t, I tried so hard to ignore it, but, fuck, I didn’t mean to say it now but since I did: I’ve been in love with you for years. And, and I just, after everything, we’ve been so close-”

“What, you think that what, because we’ve been friends since we were kids and you been pinin after me for however the fuck long, I should just date you? Like it’s destiny or some shit? What the fuck man?” He stands and Indrid mirrors him. 

“Do not put words in my mouth. I never wanted to interfere in your life, I never, you can’t possibly know how I feel!”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m really that fuckin oblivious? I suspected you felt some kind of way about me, and I gave you chances to show me I was right!”

“Name one.” Indrid growls, stepping closer.

“Homecomin, my eighteenth birthday, about a dozen times last year where I asked if you had your eye on anyone and you’d change the goddamn subject,” Duck counts out on his fingers, closing the remaining distance, “hell, coulda used those weird powers of yours to see what would happen if you told me.”

“I was too scared to. And if you were so observant, and apparently not opposed to the idea, why didn’t you make a move on me?”

“What do you think me kissin you on your birthday was?”

“A joke! Goodness, Duck, you know I’m not great with social cues. I didn’t think you’d ever care about me that way.”

“You think I’m that fuckin shallow?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He growls. 

“So what was your end-game, huh? Just wait out everyone else, circle me like a fuckin vulture until I’d settle for you? Fuck, Minerva was right, you are creepy.”

Duck may as well have punched him. He sort of wishes he had. 

“Fuck. you. Wayne.” He hisses out, stepping around him and towards his room. 

“Nah, fuck you, Indrid. Fuck you for makin me think you actually cared about me when all you were doin was bidin your goddamn time!”

“That’s not, no, nevermind. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Duck tosses back, “That’s as good as a confession in my book, you creepy, mothman lookin motherfucker,” and Indrid slams the door. 

There’s ten minutes of hurried, angry movement in the rest of the apartment, and then the front door bangs shut. 

He cycles through anger (at himself, at Duck, at these obnoxious powers for not helping him prevent the fight), hurt, and numb acceptance that he has blown his oldest, closest friendship to smithereens. 

When he finally calms down enough to think clearly he realizes that, if nothing else, he doesn’t want that to be the last conversation they have before Duck leaves. 

He faceplants onto his bed, pulls out his phone, and types.

Indrid: I’m sorry for losing my temper, and for not telling you the truth sooner. Even though it would have been helpful if you’d been clearer in the past. Can we talk about this tomorrow, and try again?

The answer is immediate.

Duck: Staying with M until we leave. Don’t text me again unless the apartment is on fire.

He stares at the response, then slides the phone under his pillow, presses his face to the mattress, and lays there numbly until he falls asleep.

——————————————————

“Nope, you are not having a sad hook-up on my watch.” Barclay’s tone freezes Indrid in place, and he slumps back down into the booth at the bar. 

Barclay is only a year ahead of him, but at times he reminds Indrid of a mother hen. A very, very large mother hen. 

“I cannot believe I allowed you to drag me out on Homecoming weekend.”

“Indrid, you’ve been miserable for almost two months, and I’m honestly really worried about you. Plus, this place has super cheap, real good appetizers.”

“Thank you for not saying ‘apps.’’ Indrid sips his soda.

“That word is an abomination. And you’re avoiding the actual topic.”

“I destroyed my best friend’s trust in me, and am wallowing here while he cavorts in the rainforest with his girlfriend. I’ll survive, but there’s no rule that says I have to enjoy it.”

Barclay sighs, “Look, if I give you permission to be miserable while you do it, will you come to trivia night with me, Joe, and Jake? Dani’s usually out fourth, but she’s helping Aubrey get her magic show up and ready to open.”

Indrid blows a strand of hair from his face (the black patches are getting worse, he needs to dye it again), “I can mope as much as I want?”

“You can cry into your beer for all I care, as long as you let me buy it.”

Trivia night turns out to be much better than anticipated, though Joe, Barclay’s boyfriend, is terrifying to behold in a battle of information.

Movie goes better, game night even better still, and soon Indrid is hanging out with the others more days than not. He even helps Aubrey design and draw up some last minute posters for her show. 

It’s the morning after opening night (and the following celebration) that his phone alerts him to a new email. The subject simply says “Bug.”

It’s from Duck. 

All it contains is a photo, clearly taken at night on a phone, of a moth with bright pink wings and red eyespots. 

He types, Neat! Then, after a moment, adds What species?

He doesn’t expect a response. But the next day, another email awaits him.

Dr. Graslie (Entomologist here) thinks it’s Leucanella apollinairei. Here’s someone more familiar

This picture is of a small crustacean. Indrid smiles; it’s a crawdad. 

He replies Careful, maybe it followed you all the way from Kepler. Seen anything else interesting?

This time he waits two days for a response, but it opens with, sorry, internet is real spotty. Big shock, I know. 

This is followed by two paragraphs describing trees. Indrid has never been so happy to hear about root systems. 

Soon Duck is emailing him whenever he can. At first, it’s only about the wildlife, the field work he’s doing, and the terror of trying to practice hygiene in the middle of a rainforest. Slowly, other details appear; the things he’s homesick for, the ways in which he and Minerva are starting to grate at each other (you’d think being in the middle of nowhere’d get you some peace and quiet. Nope). 

Indrid responds with updates from school, pictures of the outings he and the others go on, news about the promo art several places in town have hired him to do after seeing the posters for Aubrey’s act. Says he hopes Minerva and Duck are able to work things out. 

Winter break comes sooner than seems possible, and he assumes the next time he sees Duck will be when they’re home visiting their folks. 

Which is why, when he’s sitting at home reading after his last final, the door opening alarms him (Dani has already moved out). That is, until he glimpses the future.

“Duck?” He calls softly.

His friend appears in the doorway, luggage left behind him in the entryway. 

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

“I, ah, assumed you’d be staying with Minerva until you could officially move out.”

Duck shakes his head, “I ain’t movin anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“No.” Indrid fidgets with the agate, tucked safely in the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“We, uh, we broke up. Minerva and me. It was, uh, mutual, though she was the one to pull the trigger, so to speak. Just found there were some things we didn’t agree on. Weren’t compatible on neither.”

“I’m sorry.”

Duck snorts what’s almost a laugh.

“I mean it.” He stands, voices earnest and gentle, “I know you were happy with her, and the relationship meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah” Duck sounds tired, “It did. But it turns out another one meant more.”

Indrid stops moving. Also, possibly, breathing. 

“I…well, I sent you that first email instead of apologizin because I was still kinda hurt, but I realized I missed you. I didn’t want you gone from my life. And the longer I was gone, the more times I turned around wanting to tell you somethin and was sad you weren’t there, got excited at the thought of showin you somethin or sending you pictures, I realized I did plenty to fuck things up. And that’s before we get to the fact I was dreamin about you most nights.”

Duck steps awkwardly forward, until they’re toe to toe, “I missed you, ‘Drid. So fuckin much. And I’m sorry for the things I said durin the fight.”

“As am I. I ought to have thought how my confession would appear to you. I’m sorry I did not.”

“I guess, what I’m tryin to say is I feel like a real dipshit for havin to go halfway across the globe to realize what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Duck?”

Duck cups his cheeks, and then Indrid is tipping forward, into a kiss he’s dreamed of for years. His arms close around Duck’s shoulders, his lips taste chapstick and cold night air. He pulls away to breathe and gets only an instant to do so, Duck chasing his mouth for kiss after kiss, his eagerness sending them tripping onto the bed. 

Indrid lands on top of Duck, hears him whimper when his name leaves Indrid’s lips.

“‘Drid, ‘Drid, please-”

“Yes” He kisses his cheek, “whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

Duck giggles into his neck, “You got no idea how bad I wanna make a goof on that. But, fuck, ‘Drid, I can’t, all I want is you.”

“Likewise.” He purrs, hooking Ducks leg around his own, nuzzling up his neck before attacking his lips with kisses. 

“That, that a rock in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Duck tugs on his lower lip.

“Both. See?” He produces the agate, holds it where Duck can get a look at it.

“Holy shit, is that the one I gave you a million years ago?”

“Indeed. It became a sort of grounding object, because it was pleasant to touch and reminded me of you. Later it morphed into a sort of good luck charm.”

Duck closes Indrid’s fist around the rock and kisses it, grins, “There, now it’s twice as lucky.”

Indrid holds him close, basks in the love radiating from him as he murmurs, “It’s not the luckiest thing in the room, though. That honor, I believe, belongs to you and I.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #college au #duck x indrid

[anarkhebringer]

you have claude and dimitri dating in your modern au right

I do, yes. And since it was brought up, I will now proceed to give a novel’s worth of random info about them, just in case. If it isn’t what you came for, feel free to proceed onwards now, fair anon. And when I say novel length, I mean you’re gonna have to scroll A LOT. This is VERY LONG.

- They got together during their time at the Officers Academy, so they’ve been dating for over five years.

- Happily in love, they are. They were each other’s first for… pretty much everything. First real and serious relationship, first kiss (in Dimitri’s case), first time saying “I love you” to someone, first time uh… doing that… and they’ll be each other’s last for all of it, too.

- They both have a lot of darkness in them, but they’ve helped each other heal and grow stronger as time goes on. Dimitri won’t ever be as stable and functional in society as everyone else due to his traumas and what he experiences every day in his head, but with Claude’s guidance, he’s much better than he would’ve been if he had denied Claude and refused to allow him to bring Dimitri back to his house to clean him up and give him a place to stay on the day of their reunion after five years apart.

- A little extra on the end of that previous bit, that Claude had fully prepared to bring Dimitri back with him, which is why he had bought a house with four bedrooms way before they even reunited. He had planned it all along, whether Dimitri went with him as easily as expected or not. They made an oath to reunite and stay together until the end of their days once they saw each other again, and by every deity to ever exist was Claude going to make sure that was going to happen, no matter what stood in his way. Even if what stood in his way was Dimitri himself. But fortunately, Dimitri was finally able to be talked into coming back home with him, and he was making quick strides because he was finally with Claude again.

- They’ve had their rough spots, but they know each other well enough and love each other enough that there haven’t been any big fights between them yet. There have been some small back-and-forths, but they always cut it short to calm down before it escalates, so even that is super rare for them. Plus the four bedroom thing is for them both to have their own personal bedrooms alongside the shared one they have, so if they want some privacy, they can have it. That’s been a big help for them to keep their relationship going so steady and well for so long.

- Claude is the only one of the two to remember his (and everyone else’s) past lives, and thanks to the circumstances that allowed that to even be possible, he shares some of Dimitri’s traits. He’s like if past Claude and Dimitri’s personalities fused together and the product of that became a sentient being that took on Claude’s appearance. Dimitri has a few Claude traits too, but they’re very minor in comparison to how many traits Claude has of Dimitri. The most important traits Claude picked up in this life are the way he thinks, and what exactly the darkness in his head manifests as. He has constant violent intrusive thoughts, and is always haunted by hundreds upon hundreds of voices that scream out at him in hatred, regret, and agony. 

- Claude willingly took that part of the darkness on, since he promised Dimitri in their past life that he would help him shoulder any burdens that may dare to follow him into the next life. To this day he has no regrets of making that promise so long ago. He would sooner be engulfed in the hottest of hellfire than make Dimitri go through all of this by himself. He’s been in pain with no one to turn to for too long, and Claude has sworn to ease his pains in any way possible.

- They share so many likes, dislikes, loves, and hatreds that they feel the most open and comfortable talking with each other. Felix and Lukas are both runner-ups for Claude in terms of that, but Dimitri has always understood him the best. Partly because they technically share a mind, but that’s not always why. Far from. These two can lazily converse for hours on end with each other, talking about topics ranging from media they enjoy, to training techniques, to dancing, even to just how the clouds in the sky looked particularly pretty at around 3:35 in the afternoon that day. They both love hearing what the other has to say. And having so much alike, but different at the same time, gives countless topics of conversation for them.

- Both are bi, and Claude is also helping Dimitri out involving exploration of his identity further after he confessed to Claude that he doesn’t really fully feel like a man. After some questioning and talking through stuff, Dimitri revealed wishing to explore the genderfluid identity to see if it fits him, and so far he feels it fits him wonderfully. Whenever Dimitri asks Claude to address him in a feminine manner, it’s done with no hesitation or difficulty, and that always makes Dimitri feel really good and happy that he’s not judged or anything. Even when wishing to be addressed in a feminine manner, he still usually prefers he/him pronouns unless Claude mentions it in terms of “this is my girlfriend” or something along those lines. There are some times where Dimitri prefers she/her pronouns to be used, and that also is done with no hesitation or difficulty. Dimitri likes the nickname ‘Dori’ Claude picked out for him during the times of being addressed femininely, since the usual nickname Claude has for him is ‘Dimi’, which is also super short and to the point. Dimitri picked out a temporary full name of Diamond until he found something he liked better and decides to stick with, and Claude went along with that happily.

- Dimitri sometimes asks to join Claude when he heads out with Hilda and Dorothea to go shopping and stuff, and he always comes back with at least one cute clothing item to fill his wardrobe with to try and balance out the masculine clothes he owns with feminine stuff too. He has a few dresses, which made Claude stop and stare when they were worn the first time because he thought Dimitri looked so pretty in them.

- There was also one time that Dimitri wanted some… private wear, shall we say. He went to ask Claude about it of course, but being the flustered person he is over anything that could even be hinted at intimate when not in an intimate moment, he was stuttering and completely red in the face before he even started the sentence to try and ask.

“Claude, I was wanting to know if… i-if you would help me uh… find…”

“Find what, Dimi?”

“Find… hhhhhhh…”

“Take your time, Dimi.”

“F-FRILLY PRIVATE UNDERGARMENTS???”

“…You mean lingerie?”

“…Yes…”

Of course Dimitri got the lingerie he wanted, and he definitely enjoyed how much Claude enjoyed it, too. It was easy for Claude to find it, since the site he ordered his own off of has stuff for people with Dimitri’s type of body, too. And since there was a special kind that had pride flags as a color option, Claude got them both bi flag versions, and got himself a trans flag version, and Dimitri a genderfluid flag version too.

- They’re both super protective of each other and how others treat them in terms of their identities.

- They’re both the kind that can do both and rock it in terms of outfits. You’ll sometimes see them both in suits, other times you’ll see them in gowns. Just depends on what they both wanna do.

- Claude doesn’t want to have any surgeries, and isn’t on T either, and he’s fully supported. As a plus, he gets super happy when he cuddles Dimitri close during particularly hard times, and Dimitri situates to use his chest as a pillow since it’s big enough for that. It never fails to make Claude smile when he sees how much more comfortable and at peace Dimitri is when he has his head there, and is able to ground himself easier with the steady sound of Claude’s heartbeat.

- There was a single time Claude tried binding, and that was back at the Officer’s Academy. He and Dimitri had been in Claude’s room, and Dimitri had been letting his hands wander a bit as they were kissing, and one had snaked its way under Claude’s shirt. Needless to say Dimitri fell into a panic because he worried he pushed forward way too suddenly without asking because he’d never seen Claude wear a binder before, even though Claude was only thrown off by how worried it made Dimitri. After that, he never did it again and just went back to wearing bras all the time. He didn’t really like how binding felt anyway, so he planned to not do it again as is. That situation just made it more sure that he was gonna never do it again and to hurry up and take the damned thing off soon so he could put his bra back on.

- These two have no plans to get married, since there’s a lot of money, stress, and tradition tied in with all that, and those are things they want no part of if they don’t have to be. Plus they know they don’t have to be married for their love to be valid and legitimate. They can grow old together without being married, and won’t ever care about people thinking that marriage is what makes it what it is. Though if there were a way they could be privately married without all that involved without having to travel a lot to find someone who does weddings like that, they would have been married a long time ago.

This is where I’ll stop, so thank you if you read this far! Also…

Trans and genderfluid rights, like, freakin’ rule, y’all.

#asks #anonymous #Fire Emblem AU #FE Modern AU #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Claude von Riegan #FE3H Claude #Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd #FE3H Dimitri #Claumitri #DimiClaude #Claude X Dimitri #AU info

[mars-the-4th-planet]

Ivy Munger plays Project Libitina (creepy fic for Halloween for my friend, might be disturbing)

(part one of two)

The episode begins with Jukebox herself wrapped cozily in a blanket, which is how all the episodes should start. She was playing a mod for doki doki literature club called Doki Doki: New Horizons on her GBA. She had little else to do what with quarantine and all. Spookbox watched mischievously out the window, silently giggling and rubber her hands together. She slipped through the window and crept into the kitchen, somehow unheard by Jukebox who stayed focused on her game. Spookbox was visibly transparent to the audience the whole time, representing that she is invisible to the characters in TIMS. (the ivy munger show)

Just then, Trolli and Sakura comes strolling and trolling in. Sakura sits perched atop of Trolli's shoulders. Trolli leans over to look at Jukebox's GBA screen. Currently, Jukebox is making Natsuki Island. In the shape of a trans flag, because of the common Natsuki headcanon. Trolli sees it and chuckles. "Hehehehe, a rectangle island Jukebox? I haven't seen such creative talent since Sakura tied her shoes together. Without laces!"

"H-Hey... I told you, I didn't do it! There was an imposter and they sabotaged me!" protested Sakura helplessly. "Sure, Saki. But seriously, a plain rectangle for an island? I know you can do better than that Jukebox. Especially for Natsuki."

"It's in the shape of a trans flag for the trans natsuki headcanon! No need to tease me Trolli."

"Ahahahahaa, trans natsuki? I love trans rights as much as you do Jukebox, but natsuki has been proven many times to be cis." Trolli pointed out.

"Aren't trans flags just the same shape as-" Sakura began, but was cut off by YouTube personified marching in and throwing a throw pillow at Trolli. "DEMONITIZED! Slurs are not allowed on this platform."

Jukebox sighed and rested her head against her hand. Trolli shot back: "What, cis? Cis isn't a slur!" only to get another throw pillow thrown at him. "Okay, okay... I won't say it anymore, happy?"

"Can I just play my game please? Actually you know what I'm getting a snack. You all need to stop this bizarre drama before a fight breaks out in our comment section."

It was too late for that. Already an argument had begun between people saying "cis is a slur" and "cissy lives don't matter" but that wasn't the main problem Jukebox would have to worry about...

She walked into the kitchen, and got an unopened box of cereal out of the cupboard. Jukebox opened up the top, and with a crinkle she opened the plastic bag inside...

Immediately after it was opened, an arm reached out of the box and grabbed Jukebox by the collar prompting a surprised yelp from her. A second hand reached out too, holding a handgun and pointing it at Jukebox's face. She struggled but to no avail. "Mwahahaha... I just caught an imposter~" a voice said behind her. Jukebox heard sound of something phasing out of invisibility right afterward. "What the- Who are you?! Let me go! TROLLI! SAKURA! HELP!" She shouted, panicky.

Trolli and Sakura rushed in. "Oh no! Jukebox! Jukebox? W-Which is the real Jukebox?"

Behind Jukebox was Spookbox, except she wasn't wearing her usual demonic makeup and had clothes on that matched Jukebox. She just looked like an eviller Jukebox with her hands behind her back. Of course, her hands were not really behind her back at all, they were coming out of the cereal box. "I caught an imposter trying to steal our cereal!!"

"What?? Why would you do this imposter--are you the same one who tied my shoes together!? Hmph!" Sakura jumped up and down while asking this. "No! I'm not an imposter! Who is behind me, I can't see them! Stop being weird and help me! >_<"

"It's... You. Is this some kind of prank?" Trolli asked, looking quizzical.

"For real guys, it's me." Said Spookbox. "I think this is M. M stands for Me, so it makes sense that M would take the appearance of Me."

"What are you talking about??" Jukebox replied, still panicky. "I'm not M! I don't even know who M is! What do you WANT?"

"Hmm..." Sakura looked skeptically at the both of them. "Both of my senpais seem kind of sus... How can we tell?"

"It's simple. I'm good at games, so this imposter should have to play a game to prove it!" Spookbox suggested.

"Which game?"

"Project Libitina! It's scary, perfect for a Halloween special! And it fits with our theme, with our DDLC let's play being one of our flagship series!"

"Why didn't you think of that, other Jukebox?"

"To be honest I wasn't thinking about my channel's content at the moment, probably because I have a gun in my face..." Jukebox pointed out.

"Fair enough." Snarled Spookbox.

"So... I just have to play Project Libitina then? That's good I thought you were gonna take my money or something..."

"I'm also taking your money. Or should I say, MY money. Since you're pretending to be me."

Trolli and Sakura giggled at that remark.

"...Dammit"

"DEMONITIZED!" YouTube shouted from another room.

Suddenly, the screen went to black and white and froze in place. A rantsona appeared on screen, although it didn't resemble any real animal. It looked sort of like if you mashed a zubat from pokemon together with a teddy bear, made the resulting fusion really fuzzy and put a green cap with a red star on it. "ACTUALLY!" he said, although his mouth (which took up the whole face) only cut to a frame where it was open instead of having lip syncing. "Spookbox should not have been portrayed as the villain in this episode! She is a working class hero taking DIRECT ACTION against the bougie youtuber who makes millions off of playing video games! She was right to aim for recollecting Jukebox's wealth as a goal."

Sakura spoke up, since she was also a 2D character she could still perceive what was happening. Although she didn't move at all while speaking. "This is OUR video! Kindly bug off! No one wants to hear your deranged and incorrect-"

The odd rantsona shook violently for a split second, and the video cut to black.

Once the video flickered back on, Jukebox was jumping onto the couch, ready to play Project Libitina. "Wow, it feels like this video has been going on for a while! And we haven't even gotten to the game yet! So I'll keep it's introduction brief. Project Libitina was meant to come out in 2018, but Dan Salvado had several delays. Not this was in any way his fault, he claimed that after working on the game his health would rapidly decline and would receive death threats that made him scared to continue work. Eventually though, he was able to finish and now we finally get to play DDLC's sequel! Or... Prequel if Matpat is right."

Jukebox started up the game and watched as the intro played. A warning flickered on the screen, saying that the game was far too disturbing to be played by people without adaquete mental training and preparation.

"Wow can you imagine having that much motivation. Sick, scared, and he still finished the game? If only certain people could work with that much determination."

Jukebox looked indignant. "What, you mean me?"

"No." Trolli looked directly into the camera. This made everyone watching uncomfortable.

Spookbox swatted Trolli. "Cut that out! I'm supposed to be the creepy one."

"But-

"No fighting, I need to hurry up and film the gameplay segment." Jukebox interrupted.

"All right, with that out of the way, the beginning of the game gives you a nice recap on the portrait of Markov. You get to choose between playing as "Mister Jones" or someone just named "Squid". Squid looks kind of depressing, probably because there was pretty clearly an accident involved with her? I'm pretty sure the researchers tried to give her a powerful tentacle arm, but as you can see... It doesn't look like it worked very well."

"Sure this game isn't too much for you Jukebox?" Trolli asked, voice hinting towards actual concern. "Maybe the other box should have to play it first since it was her idea..."

"Nah don't worry, I'm a brave girl!" Jukebox reassured Trolli.

"So, we're playing as Mister Jones. He's a single father, his wife apparently died but it's not that important to the game really. He honestly seems over it, as mean as that sounds to say. But you see a lot of his internal dialouge and he doesn't seem too fazed."

"Right now we're doing an experiment to try and increase control over Libitina. She kept attacking researchers until we gave her a real bedroom. So my task is to watch her through the window until she gets so uncomfortable that she agrees to go back in her sleeping box instead."

Jukebox took a deep breath and swallowed.

"In fact, most of the game seems to be doing experiments on this kid. The catch is that she has mind powers and can mess with you and other characters in all sorts of ways. For example, since she can sense you coming to the window, by the time you look through it she's already staring at the window. As you can see she's pretty clearly scared of us, so she's going to try all sorts of things to get us to stop watching her. But if we can stay firm, she will become so distressed by being spied on that the only way she can feel any privacy is to go into her ventilated steel container we call her sleeping box. The goal is basically to make her wish she never demanded to have a real bedroom like a normal child."

Jukebox said this clearly, but her voice quivered a little midway through. "She will try everything to get you to stop watching her like I said. Right now I'm hearing things in my headphones like something is behind me in the game. Like an animal growling, someone breathing in my ear, twigs snapping from being stepped on. It's tempting to look behind yourself but if you do it reaffirms her power over you and she will get closer to the window when you're not looking. If she gets emboldened enough to reach you, you get a game over screen. But if you keep your eyes on her, it makes her feel powerless. See? She's trying to hide under her blanket. If she does that it gives you an opportunity to tap her window for giving her extra fear. Don't tap her window when she is looking at you though!"

"What happens then?" Spookbox asked, intrigued.

"I don't really want to talk about that, haha. You get a special game over, basically." Jukebox giggled nervously.

"Now, since she has the ability to draw nearby threats to you, you need to learn how to tell what noises are just her trying to trick you and what are actually dangerous. She won't approach the window when things are outside besides just you. So you can shoot whatever's threatening you. For being a chapter of the game where you just watch Libitina through her bedroom window, it's surprisingly unsettling for me- AAAA!"

A ghoulish person wielding a tool so bloody it was hard to tell what it was supposed to be used for yanked Mister Jones around in the game and swung the tool repeatedly at him. It moved with strangely few frames, like a rushed stop motion project. Jukebox was too late in reacting to the attack, and got a game over screen. The game over screen had Squid holding Libitina by her hand and leading her along a road in the middle of nowhere. They both seemed very happy about it.

"Ohh! Oh my god- that-- not going to lie, this game kind of gets to me. But I'm no imposter or a quitter so I'll just cut until after I find out how to beat this part! And that's just one of several things that can kill you in this part of the gsme!"

The camera cut to black just as Trolli started saying something. When it reappeared, Jukebox looked sweaty and Trolli and Spookbox were no longer in the room. "Okay, so, I finally got the win screen. It took a while, but we finally got Libitina to start shaking under her blanket, and at this point she can't or won't pull any more psychic nonsense on us. We still have to be careful about wandering enemies but we can freely look away from the window now. Any second now... Ah there we go."

A distant alarm went off in the game and a win screen popped up. "Success!" it displayed, over a background of research papers that were heavily scribbled on. A 2D anime style clip played of Libitina begrudgingly asking a researcher to please let her sleep in her sleeping box again instead of a bedroom.

"Now we can go on to the next task! Our need experiment is optional, and apparently is important to the lore according to literally the one post I could find online about the mechanics of Project Libitina. Seems like only a couple people have played it counting me, weird. The reason it's optional though is because it's "the main reason for the warning at the start of the game" but I'm a brave girl so we're doing it!"

Text scrolled on the screen as jukebox selected the chapter. "Knife Conditioning: to-"

Jukebox shuddered and turned off the game. "Yeah, no, not a brave enough girl for this. It's one thing to see disturbing stuff, another entirely to be the one causing it. I can see why this is a psychological horror game. It's just too much for me. Right you two?"

Jukebox turned around, and looked confused. "Trolli? Other Jukebox? Where did everyone go? Wasn't someone else here too?"

She shrugged. "Guess they got bored and left. Oh well! I'm Ivy Munger, and thank you all for a wonderful time!" Jukebox thought it over. "Well, maybe not wonderful but thank you for watching! And don't play Project Libitina unless you are REALLY sure you can handle the darker stuff. Apparently the game has a happy ending and I might get to that later in a future episode but I'm not doing the optional chapters I can tell you that much."

#tw body horror #tw knife #tw knives #abuse tw #long post

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

i read the first tales of the city last week after picking it up at an out of the closet (usamerican gay thrift shop chain) (i refrained from picking up any pulp sff bc i know i usually don’t get around to reading it, and any books with hairy shirtless men on the cover bc i was embarrassed, but like. the gay cashier isn’t going to judge me so if there’s anything left next time i go in... anyway) do you think i should read more of the series before gawking at the show

Great question ^_^

There's a couple of different answers to this:

1) In terms of continuity/canon, the Netflix TV series is set in the present day as a sequel to the book series. But it's a free adaptation, and diverges from the canon whenever it feels best to them.

It doesn't matter that much if you haven't read the series; the concept is, as in the books, ensemble cast of intertwined tales of queer chosen family in San Francisco - and that's the sort of thing you can pick up at any stage. And I'm not convinced that the new series meaningfully constitutes  "spoilers" either, because it's so clearly a parallel canon rather than a replacement or continuation.

THAT SAID. A bit like Picard, it leans heavily on sentimental nostalgia; I'm not sure why you would care enough about the indulgent, semi-deification of the characters if you weren't already invested in them.

2) There's also an older TOTC adaptation, with the same cast, which I haven't seen - but would still like to.

3) In terms of pleasure: I just counted on my shelf, and I own all nine TOTC books plus one of his others. I think the book series is fantastic. In contrast, I watched three episodes of the show and haven't bothered to finish it.

The books are a series where you'll either read one of them, or all nine. The first book is an essential part of our literary history and culture; but if you buy what he's selling, it's pretty irresistable.  

TOTC books are an interesting historical document - especially the first few which have a slice-of-life wit and a parodic eye. "The City" is Maupin's great love affair, so it's a document of that moment and that place - as well as notable for its groundbreaking representations of LGBT characters.

Beyond that, it's a string of sausages story and you stick with it because you love the characters. Maupin isn't immune to a very silly plot twist, but his observational character writing is always excellent; he seems to struggle with finding the narrative on which to hang his character work. Expect a soap opera twist at the point 75% through the novel when he thinks just having characters talk to one another isn't enough and something ought to Happen. But you know what? It is enough. I wish he had had the courage in his observational work to let it stand on its own.

I also think he has one of the most interesting treatments of AIDS in literature. His books are semi-autobiographical, written contemperaneously, and it's telling to me the way he chooses to almost step around it - for example, killing main characters in the time between books, so as not to tell the story of their illness on the page. In both TOTC and the Night Listener, he explores HIV through the experiences of straight characters. You get a real sense of him needing to approach this topic from the side, rather than head on. That's important to me, in and of itself, as a document of that part of our history.

4) I think the best run is books 5-7: Significant Others/Sure of You/Michael Tolliver Lives, with the last of those being the one I've read to death.

I didn't get on with book 8 (Mary Ann in Autumn), but it has a nice subplot about young gay trans man Jake connecting with this Mormon youth pastor missionary who may-or-may-not-be-gay. Book 9 (the Days of Anna Madrigal) was a travesty, absolutely terrible. The more you learn about Maupin's life, the more you realise the books are literally just things that happened to him - including having disappointing sex with a closeted film star. The reality of Book 9 is that Maupin is an married man living a quiet life, and not much is happening any more.

So if you're reading, you can stop after book 7.

5) One of the most important things about the series is how connected Maupin is to the world he's writing about. Filled with knowing references that his gay readers of 1974 would have understood, to people and places and bars and events and things you see on the street there.

The Netflix has attempted to replicate this by updating it for modern queer culture and modern SF. I don't think the writers are part of that world, it doesn't read as "real" to me.

For one thing, adjusting Jake from a young gay trans man who hooks up with the poly, married, older cis male protagonist - courageously, but with confidence - to one of the "young people" characters, having relationships with other young people newly created for the series. There's a subtle othering going on here, suggesting Jake's life is a "young person's thing". But in one stroke, they've erased the age gap, the open marriage, the long history of gay trans San Franciscans as an equal part of a historic community...trans lives are not validated by cis people's acceptance or by sex, but when you're adapting the longest-running openly gay character in literature, the character who comes to embody the life of a gay man over the course of 3 decades of books, and you choose to write the trans characters out of his bedroom, and into this nebulously modern queer space instead, you are Making A Choice.

I had horrible experiences in queer spaces, so the rosy-tint everything has doesn't read as real to me; and where are all those trans young artists living in San Francisco anyway? Yeah, Anna and Edgar are running an Instagram account, but the tale of the city is not the tech revolution, but the people crushed underneath it.

You know, what happens in the book series at the moment we move into the present day is that Mrs Madrigal has to sell her house - that iconic house,  the house on which everything centers - because she's an older woman in a rapidly gentrifying city that's shifting underneath them, and she needs the money.

But in the show, there she is, at Barbary Lane, luminous and surrounded by loved ones; it's giving us what we "want", part of the Maupin brand. But Barbary Lane is not the house, but the way the people within it create home for one another there. I think what it misses is that these are tales of the city, and like any lover, you adore it even when your heart is breaking - you have to be honest about that which you love, in all its imperfections; Michael Tolliver Lives explores that a little in 2016, what it means for the city to be gentrifying, but a series made in 2019 shies away from it?

To me, this sort of exemplifies the queerwash cowardice of the series. It's something hollow draped in a rainbow flag. Maupin was never cruel to his characters - but he never lied about them either. The series is safe, unwilling to criticise, unwilling to take risks, unwilling to look at the modern city or modern queer life with a clear and honest eye, it's like eating a wad of colourful cardboard.

[notquiteaghost]

there isn't enough nonbinary jon sims content, here is... well i started writing this as headcanons but this is really a not!fic about nonbinary jon sims. it’s 3′300 words

it contains: nonbinary trans masc autistic jon, jongeorgie, lesbian georgie, trans guy martin & tim, trans woman sasha, team archives trans solidarity, and not-insignificant amount of internalised transphobia and references to misgendering & general cis people bullshit

(also ftr i am heavily basing jon's experiences here as a nonbinary autistic person on my own experiences as a nonbinary autistic person) (this is like 80% projection) (what else is fandom for!)

also on AO3 if you prefer your 3k of bullet points to have better spacing

tiny baby [jon] who knows she isn't very good at being a girl but doesn't have the words to articulate why

her grandmother thinks kids clothes should be durable and practical so even tho jon is not a kid who climbs trees or plays football, her wardrobe is exclusively straight jeans & 'boys' t-shirts & large jumpers

she keeps her hair roughly shoulder length because that's the length it's always been but strangers still 'mistake' her for a boy a lot. this makes her feel a way she again hasn't got the words for

when she starts secondary school she continues to dress 'masc', never starts wearing makeup, never gets any interest in dating, generally fills out the checklist for everyone else assuming she's a lesbian

she knows she's definitely not a straight girl, so she shrugs and decides sure, she's a lesbian. it's a moot point, mostly, seeing as even if she did have any interest in dating she's the only gay person her age she knows

but she does get involved in some community support stuff – she spends a lot of time in the library as a teenager, and one of the librarians is a lesbian who takes jon under her wing a bit

coffee mornings and book clubs and things like that. sixteen year old jon and a dozen queer women all in their late twenties at the youngest. they joke a lot how often they forget jon isn't also a thirty-something

(this is that autism feel of having no interest in your peers but getting on great with adults)

and then she goes to uni, and then she meets georgie

georgie is a Very Out lesbian. she goes to clubs, she's heavily involved in the lgbt society, she has a rainbow flag hanging in her bedroom window. yknow.

jon likes her a lot, and still isn't really sure if it's romantic or not, but assumes that's more due to being gay than anything else

(no one has told jon about asexuality yet)

so when, one night when they're meant to be studying in georgie's room but instead are mostly drinking shit cheap wine and complaining about their professors, georgie looks at jon with this soft look on her face and asks to kiss her, jon says yes

and then they date

they're both living in one of those massive student houses with a thousand bedrooms crammed everywhere and only a kitchen for a communal space. georgie has lived there since coming back to finish first year, and jon moved in halfway through second year after a somewhat disastrous flatmate situation

so after they graduate, moving in together seems like the natural progression of things even tho they’ve only been dating for two months

jon is still, when asked, identifying as a lesbian and using she/her, but is also still dressing what other people now call butch. she always feels kind of weird about that term, but again, just chalks it up to the mess of complicated feelings being a gnc lesbian does genuinely involve

and then, finally, jon meets some actual trans people

jon has, circumstantially, known trans people. thanks to georgie, jon goes to a lot of lgbt soc things, and is passingly familiar with most of the lgbt people on their campus

but there’s a big difference between nodding at someone when you see them in the library and having an actual, proper conversation about gender

so, jon goes to a lot of social events because georgie does. without georgie, jon would probably not leave the house except to go to work and to the library (jon is not doing postgrad. jon’s library habits do not particularly reflect this)

mostly at these events, jon sits in the corner and reads, and only talks to other quiet antisocial people, while georgie circles back periodically to report on her social butterfly escapades

and at one, one of the other quiet antisocial people is a trans guy

he’s called harry, and he asks about the book jon is reading, and after they’ve been talking a while he says, “sorry, you probably get this a lot, but what pronouns do you use?”

jon just blinks at him and says “what”

“well, i’m trans, so i’m always really cautious about assuming,” harry says, easily, and this does not answer the question jon was asking

jon.exe has crashed

she(?) eventually says, “uh. she? i’ve never– she”

and harry, who has spent the last forty minutes discussing dante with jon and is already sure they’re going to be friends, says “want the trans 101? you’re making a face like you need it”

three hours later georgie finally reappears with the intent to actually interrupt (she’s drifted past periodically, but jon was always deep in conversation with harry, so she left them alone) and get going, and jon gets harry’s email address and is then very quiet as they walk arm-in-arm back to their house

just as they turn onto their street, jon says, “i, ah. i think i might be trans?”

georgie, who has for the past couple months been having something of a crisis after realising she definitely loves jon but she isn’t in love and she can’t figure out why, says “oh thank god”

jon, very bemused, “that wasn’t the reaction i was expecting”

“i think we should break up,” georgie replies, and jon stops walking. they’re four feet from their front door, but it’s late, no one’s about, so georgie decides sure, they can have this conversation in the street

“you– because i’m trans?”

“i love you, i really do,” georgie steps closer, takes jon’s hands in hers, “but i’m not in love with you. and it was driving me crazy trying to figure out why, but if you’re not a girl–”

“i can’t tell if i should be offended by this or not,” jon says, somewhat dazed, “i’ve been trans for an hour, georgie, i don’t know if this is transphobic yet”

georgie laughs, and presses a kiss to jon’s cheek, and says “it’s nearly midnight, we both have work tomorrow, let’s table this for later. we can look up names and what word i should use when i complain to other people how you always leave your shoes in the middle of the floor when we aren’t both on the verge of passing out”

and that sounds reasonable, so jon nods, and kisses georgie on the mouth, and then they go inside

the next day jon stops by the library on the way home from work and checks out almost every baby names book they have. georgie comes home and he’s sat at the kitchen table making a spreadsheet

“you don’t have to make it this complicated, you know,” she says, hooking her chin over his shoulder to read what he’s already got. the spreadsheet has a lot of columns.

“it’s my name,” he retorts, and she hums agreeably, then points to ‘jonathan’, which has relatively few ticks in any pro columns (god, this nerd), and says, “isn’t that your grandfather’s name?”

it is. he doesn’t talk about his grandfather a lot – doesn’t talk about his family a lot full stop, but she knows, even though he died when jon was still a toddler, the stories his grandmother told had a significant impact

“my parents didn’t name me after anyone,” jon says, quietly

georgie nods. she doesn’t say they’re not here now to offer an opinion, because that’s far harsher than jon deserves to hear, and it’s not like she ever needs to remind him of it either. he’s definitely already beating himself up for taking so long to come to this realisation there’s no one left around to tell him how they’d have reacted

“i think it suits you,” she says instead, and jon nods, and then she moves away to make a pot of tea and some pasta (it’s technically jon’s night to cook, but she was anticipating coming home to find him already hyperfocused beyond the point of no return)

a week later, jon looks up from the spreadsheet to where georgie is curled up on the sofa reading and says “ugh, fine, you win, you were right”

(georgie hadn’t pressed her point any further, jon is just like that)

“jon?” she asks, and he makes an exasperated noise and nods, then closes his laptop dramatically and stands. most of his spine pops when he stretches

“this calls for celebration” georgie says, also standing, “franco’s or monsoon?”

“franco’s. i’m going to eat a pizza the size of a car”

so then jon is actually going by jon, and using he/him, and isn’t dating georgie anymore but is still living with her and spending most of his time with her and factoring her into all his major decisions

he talks to harry, and other (binary) trans people, and reads a lot of blogs, and after a few months gets a referral to charing cross gic

by the time he starts at the magnus institute, he’s had top surgery and has been on T for years, and passes as cis completely, and he doesn’t know how to articulate it but this is. bothering him.

he’s not exactly… he likes being stealth, he doesn’t need to flaunt his personal life. he can understand the impulse, but he doesn’t share it. his feelings about gender and romance are no one’s business but his own

but. everyone assuming he was a girl itched – being miss simms, georgie’s girlfriend, she, it felt like wearing a coarse knitted jumper. it was exhausting

and, for a while, everyone assuming he was a man was a relief. it didn’t make his skin crawl, it didn’t make him want to scream, it was nice. it felt good.

it didn’t feel right. but it didn’t feel bad, either, and jon has never been gendered in a way that felt right. he thought that was just part of being trans

except. he moves to london, and he starts at the magnus institute, and he wears shirts and slacks, and the long skirts and patterned dresses some of his colleagues wear keep catching his eye the way men in three-piece suits used to, and that terrifies him

he was lucky, in a way, having no family left to care when he transitioned – if anyone reacted negatively, he could just cut them out of his life, and his social circle was already queer enough that was hardly necessary

but that doesn’t mean he escaped internalising a whole swathe of shit about what being trans should mean and how he should act and what he should want and if he wants to wear skirts then is he even a man? was he making it up all along after all?

naturally, he deals with this by ignoring it. he’s a man, men don’t wear skirts, he doesn’t wear skirts, that’s that.

he manages to keep that up until he’s made head archivist, and he’s given three assistants who are all also trans

(he doesn’t know if elias did it on purpose. elias knows he’s trans, of course, because he’s never bothered to get the name on his diploma changed, but the way elias reacted lead jon to assume elias may also be trans. and if that’s true, then selecting only trans people for the archives staff feels like a kindness more than anything)

and, the thing about them all being trans, is even if jon and martin are both rather fond of being stealth, and sasha and tim aren’t used to being out at work, and none of them are exactly friends, they’re the only people who ever come in the archives, so the archives very quickly becomes the Safe Trans Zone

they all vent a lot about cis people. sasha will walk in and the first words out her mouth will be “the next person to ask me if i’d had the surgery is getting their own surgery when i cut their tongues out”, and tim will make a commiserating noise and offer her the pack of donuts martin brought in

so when, on one of the rare afternoons when jon leaves his office to lean against tim’s desk and brainstorm organisational system ideas, martin walks back from the break room upstairs with a scowl and says, bitterly, as he sits back down, “oh so when cis guys wear nail polish it’s inspiring and breaking down gender roles but when i wear nail polish, jenny from HR gets to side eye me and ask if that means i changed my mind, because surely i’m the one who’ll do that and not all the men who didn’t have to do hours of therapy to establish they are definitely, one hundred percent for sure a guy!”

tim and sasha both make the standard commiseration noises, and sasha says something about the supervisor at her last job trying to say it wasn’t appropriate for her to wear trousers, and jon stops listening and runs away moves back to his office

he hadn’t noticed martin is wearing nail polish, is the thing. or, he had noticed it, but he hadn’t thought about it, and now he’s thinking about it. he’s thinking about it a lot

martin had– martin is a guy. martin is definitely a guy, if something of a feminine-leaning gay guy, the kind of feminine-leaning no one ever questions in cis guys, and it hadn’t occurred to jon to question martin, either, even though he’s trans, and. and.

he’s still circling round a revelation he can’t quite make himself have an hour or so later, when martin sticks his head round the door

“you, uh. you alright?” martin asks, incredibly tentatively. it says a lot, jon thinks, about how nice martin is, that he’s asking even though there’s a 90% chance jon will tell him to fuck off “you kind of disappeared abruptly, earlier. i didn’t upset you, did i?”

jon stares at him for a long moment, then says, “can i see your nail polish?”

“oh!” martin’s cheeks flush, just slightly, as he steps inside the office and lets the door shut behind him “uh, yeah, of course. it’s a little chipped, now, but, yeah”

martin’s nail polish is a light, pastel blue. it’s neat, and even, though his nails aren’t that long, and jon thinks he remembers martin saying something about mostly painting his nails to try and get himself to stop biting them. jon’s never really gone for nail polish, but it’s. nice.

“it’s, uh. it’s a good colour, on you,” he says awkwardly. martin flushes even more

“oh, um, thanks? did– are you alright?”

if jon was a different kind of person, this is where he’d open up to martin, and this would be the beginning of them becoming actual friends

jon is jon, though, so he just shoves all his emotions back in the box they escaped from, nods, and says “i didn’t sleep that well, is all. not really up to socialising”

(an aside about s1 jonmartin dynamic: jon is very good at shittalking martin when martin isn’t around, but in the face of martin’s genuine care and concern, he defaults back to a far more friendlier tone than he’s aiming for. he knows, on a level, that he and martin could be good friends if he ever got his shit together, but that is something else he’s currently repressing. he doesn’t need friends! he isn’t desperate for social contact at all! what’s loneliness!)

martin says “ah, okay, i’ll just– i’ll leave you alone, then”, and then jon makes himself focus on work, and then when he gets home he opens the group chat he’s still, thankfully, in with the trans people who got him through his first gender crisis and sends ‘help i don’t know if i’m a guy after all’

three people immediately send back a link to nonbinary.org

and that’s the rest of jon’s evening

he reads through every article. he reads several articles multiple times. he opens several new tabs, and gets a notepad to make a list of books, and eventually remembers to reply in the group chat

a week later, he bites the bullet and writes an email to georgie

nothing long, just, they still tell each other about big life events

and then, another couple weeks after that, when martin brings him tea, he says, “ah, martin, could i– do you have a moment?”

“of course,” martin says, and lets the door swing closed again, “what do you need?”

“i, ah. this isn’t very professional, so, you don’t– you are perfectly welcome to say no, of course, but i. um. would you– come clothes shopping with me?”

(ideally, jon would have asked georgie, but as much as he loves her (still), they haven’t talked properly in years, and she is cis. the best cis person he knows, but still a cis person. and he’d just, rather have a trans person, for emotional support, and no one in the group chat lives particularly nearby anymore) (or, well, some of them are, but when he asked they all told him to get over himself and ask one of his ‘lovely’ coworkers)

(why does he ask martin and not sasha?) (well, dear reader, he is nursing the beginnings of a crush) (not that he knows it. but that’s absolutely what’s happening here. martin is sweet and lovely and jon definitely finds him annoying and overbearing. yes. nothing else. no other emotions.) (his chest feels all weird when martin smiles because he doesn’t like him. that always happens around people he dislikes.)

“oh!” martin says, surprised. “uh, yes, of course, is– is there an event or something…?”

jon takes a moment to stare at the wall above martin’s head before he makes himself say, “i. am non-binary, and i need– different clothes.”

“oh, god, have we been–”

“no, no, this is a, a very recent development. he is still fine,” jon says, quickly, then pauses, then adds, more haltingly, “i think. i might, if – they, as well, maybe? just, to see”

“of course. d’you want me to tell tim and sasha?”

martin, jon thinks, is maybe not all that bad “yes, please”

“cool,” martin smiles, “i’m free this weekend? for shopping?”

“this saturday would be good, yes”

and then jon and martin go shopping! it’s probably not that successful of a shopping trip, because it takes jon like four shops before they admit what exactly it is they’re looking for, but they go to several charity shops and have fun trying to one-up each other with the most ridiculous/inexplicable item of clothing, and at the end of the day jon has three skirts (a knee-length black a-line skirt, a full-length black skirt, and a full-length black skirt patterned with red flowers), two necklaces, and a skater dress they probably can’t get away with wearing to work, but they really liked the way the skirt moved when they spun

other things that happen include lunch at a cafe where the staff definitely think they’re on a date and only martin notices and also martin is dying, both of them only managing to walk past a secondhand bookshop twice before they cave and go inside, and then emerge half an hour later both holding three books (two poetry anthologies and a sci fi novel; a psychology book and two history books), and martin somehow talking jon into trying on skinny jeans and then, again, leaving this mortal coil

jon doesn’t buy the skinny jeans, which is for the best really

the first time jon wears one of the skirts to work, sasha does a victory lap around the archives because “hell yes skirts are so much more comfortable, and now you swish! tim you should get a skirt. skirts for archives uniform”

and jon is still a prickly antisocial bastard but now he’s an outly nonbinary prickly antisocial bastard, and sometimes they walk into the archives at 2PM smelling of tobacco and holding a bottle of vodka, and then the archives staff all do shots and dramatic readings of the most ridiculous fake statements, because sometimes that’s how you cope with cis people, and that’s! valid!

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker #martin blackwood #jongeorgie #yelling at clouds #fic tag #draw jon sims in skirts. thank you.

[kitt-andrea]

What is Queer?

Gay 1 told me to ‘settle down, our lot can get married now so (I) should Stop complaining- and while (I’m) at it, get a job and stop dyeing (my) hair weird colours.’ I gulp down my imperative to scream at his condescending tone, and walk away. To be Queer is to be looked down upon, but to know one’s value and try to be better.

And the teacher stuck in the 70s hasn’t realised yes, I can study Queer Theory at university -And even as a word itself, it is one I treasure: Can he not tell I’m not slurring it across a room like his other student did just last week?

Just as the grassroots informed the naming of our theory of life, The tensions of which branch of non-normative identity one takes up Is present in its constituents too. But Gay 1 runs our Gay Straight Alliance, And important politics are formed in the process of making a capital-a Ally so I play nice.

It seems the Allies want to join the acronym too now, And the Lesbians and Gays are in pieces over how respectable they should be today. Being an Ally isn’t Queer, sorry, we say, but they never wanted to be Queer anyway.

Being Queer means knowing that co-operating is sometimes useful to the movement, But that ultimately your aims are totally disparate, and it is more useful to Find a group on the margins too for totally different reasons And find where the struggle does overlap- and in the space it doesn’t create mutual aid.

Grinding my teeth in the fifth meeting this week- with staff, or my own constituent students That tell me, maybe I’m too militant for liberation and should focus on Going to the raising of the flag at University House instead.

Queers look to total liberation, that is tied up in the liberation of everyone else too So we will demonstrate: against racism, to end the thinly veiled neo-colonialist war- For any cause that drives humanity towards a utopia, no matter how useless Such an endeavour feels. To be Queer is to actively oppose harmful structures.

No, this does still not make Allies Queer. Show me their action extending past A GSA meeting, into the streets for us and others, or to their homes- their bedrooms. Point to how they Queer their movement through the world.

Could a Heterosexual person be Queer? Queer 2 replies, ‘maybe if they are Trans.’ While I do agree, being Transgender is as much a way into Queerness as being Attracted to multiple genders, the implied definition for Queer (as told by Queer 3) Is simply non-normative gender and orientation, nothing more and nothing less.

We are a politics against purity, but did you see the same logic of LGBTQUIAP+ (and endless formations even less useful than that) Shining through? This is not who we are meant to be, damn it!

Let’s Queer the pitch and challenge these outdated lines of gatekeeping. What of the Ethically non-monogamous? What of those who practice kink and have Non-normative sex? What makes their variety of relationships not Queer? What even is Queer? It has dead bodies in itself, but birth and celebration too.

And I know that the cisgender heterosexuals in those communities Are still prone to shouting abuse or laughing at us or denying us access: I am adamant. Those ones Queer nothing. But some still do.

Consider the limited parental rights of those categories, or the working opportunities. Sexual violence is laughed at when other pain is consensual. There are powers at play When a BDSM scene creates a culture of consent stronger than its vanilla counterparts And when non-monogamy undermines the premises of an efficient nuclear family.

At my first social, I am told to use a fake name, and call the one I am under protection of ‘Amy’. The name stumbles across my lips but it is for our protection, no one can know she Studies … No one can know I’d teach if I could one day.

Is anything solidly Queer? Queer is a verb, I am Queer because of how I choose to Act in my life. I am Queer when my sex(uality)/ relationships/ gender undermine That which is the norm. When I struggle in solidarity and revolt against the logic of this world. Gay 1, or Lesbian 4 are not Queer because they uphold this Straight hegemony.

Queer is anti-capitalist, so join me on the streets in the march to Grenfell, Or smash your way to the top of Millbank Or mask up for when Mark Duggan…

The Queer cannot beg to be ‘like everyone else’, with a normal family and marriage, Or ask to join the army and kill some brown (queer) people for their country. We are a set of demands alight in a Molotov Cocktail- and if our flame makes the sparkliest rainbow, Then so be it. Queer is a potential found across gender and orientations, embrace it.

In a room full of the closest friends, she admits that maybe she too is a bit Queer, a bit genderqueer, that these norms do not fit her either, but she is afraid To come out- to family yes, but to the community of letters who should judge her not enough.

I am not a subcategory of anything or anyone, not even the Gay and Lesbian group. Queer means so much more than a simple identity, it is a statement of intent, A set of demands and constant striving to have made oneself who we needed as children.

We are the eternal collective of Dykes, Fags, Trannies- and above all else- filthy Queers. And we are here, we will eternally fuck this shit up in the name of glorious revolution-

My beautiful body that pleasingly straddles binary gender and sex is its own small Revolution. It is yet more beautiful when the binaries dissolve under the weight of A gender pluralism that recognises gender’s present importance but eventual death.

To kill gender and sexuality and leave only pleasure and people is our aim, for now we fight-

February 2018

#queer theory #poetry #queer riot #anti capitalism

[melleonis]

hey i’m gonna vent about some shit cw for like uhhhhhhhh suicide codependency n the Absolute Fuckery that comes with being a trans woman

PART I

i haven’t really talked about the living situation i just got out of on here, except sort of obliquely or in terms of isolated aspects of it. anyway this past summer someone i sort of knew from high school (A) walked into the liquor store i was working in at the time, so i was like hey. and then she came back with her boyfriend (J) and their friend and then suddenly i had a friend group, and pretty soon a d&d group, and we were all trans and/or queer, and that was a markedly positive change in my life.

there were red flags, however. A id’s as lesbian but is dating a trans man (gender is complicated, so maybe valid? but) who is 24 while she is 33 (nine-year age gap a hell of a thing) & also she was his high school biology teacher. sometimes when he talks about this fact she screams at him to stop. she has a problem with him smoking weed. she has a problem with his paganism. and like, i don’t think she’s intentionally cruel or monstrous? but she actively avoids, like, dealing with her shit ever, and bipolar or not, no one else is responsible for her behavior.

so, naturally, i got involved with her. briefly, and above both belt and board. and then she got too invested in me, told J she wasn’t sure she was in love with him anymore, and broke up with me. so that hurt, and we kept our distance for a bit.

and then i quit my liquor store job, which had turned abusive, and had to move out of my apartment - which is fine, because one of my housemates was some alt-right white supremacist fuckhead and i wanted to get out of there anyway - and A & J were like well...we have a guest bedroom. and what i had was a paucity of good options, so. i lived with them for four months while i got two new jobs. i don’t mean to sound ungrateful. i’m not ungrateful. but my gratitude has to be tempered by some facts, namely: 1) A still wanted to fuck me; 2) couldn’t; 3) resented me for it; and 4) would sometimes lash out at me because of it. and after i had a conversation with her about how we had become codependent and needed very badly to not be codependent, she...essentially stopped talking to me at all. descended into a frigid hostility. i barely left my room.

so, as soon as i had the money to get out, i put a deposit down on a place, and three days before i moved out she tried to kill herself. tried to talk J into killing himself with her. i was maybe seven or eight feet away at the time. so i bugged out and crashed on my brother’s couch, and she went to the hospital, but returned in time to be exactly as icy toward me as she had been.

so that was traumatic.

PART II

i’ve mentioned, i think, something about how long it’s been since i had sex with anyone. (you understand, i use sex as metonymy for, like, sexual/romantic intimacy, right? i don’t care about getting off, i just desperately, desperately need to touch and be touched, see and be seen. you understand this.) and the line i’ve been using with myself about this is something like ‘yeah i may be a transgender lesbian converting to judaism in fucking arkansas, but like can you imagine how hard it’d be for me if i weren’t pretty?’ only, i’m not sure being pretty is actually helping me at all here. like, people are attracted to me often enough (i think. i’m Actively Bad at interpreting people’s attitudes toward me specifically. i have no idea how to get better at it. but, just statistically speaking, i can’t be wrong about everyone i think probably wants to fuck me at least a little. and i am, genuinely, in fact, pretty.)

The Problem Is: women being attracted to me does not make them not transphobic, or, like, not straight. or not a chaser, or any number of things that make someone legitimately damaging for someone like me to be with.

The Problem Is: i am borderline and transgender, and so rejection will probably always feel like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the kneecaps of my validity as a person

The Problem Is: not having been touched by someone i didn’t regret in half a decade has reduced me to a raw sucking wound of need, which a) not a selling point; b) is making me much stupider about pretty women, when c) i was already very, very stupid about pretty women to begin with.

so, just to isolate a single instance from the fucking multi-hit combo of romantic disappointment from the past few weeks, two nights ago when my brother’s gorgeous punk rocker coworker flirts with me (and does she mean anything by that? i will never know) and i mention this to my brother’s best friend - who is trans - and they say “oh, i wouldn’t. she has a lot of internalized, like, homophobia. some transphobia. is Not Open to people talking to her about that,” that...feels real fucking bad, because, like, that’s not about someone not being interested, that’s about me never having any prospects because of What I Am.

and like i could be doing worse. i’m sufficiently in control of myself that when some 20-year-old trans kid propositions me, i can gently turn them down. my problem vis-a-vis that one 18yo coworker has become a “hey, be mindful of yourself and your behavior” problem and less of a “throw yourself out the window” problem. (the fact that it sometimes takes a lot of work for me to be a minimally decent human being doesn’t mean i expect a fuckin cookie for doing that. i’m just noting that i am still capable of doing that work and don’t need to quarantine myself.)

so anyway in the midst of a morass of romantic/sexual angst, gender insecurity, financial anxiety, and finally having the space to decompress from the latest in a long line of traumatic living situations, i get home from work last night and find a christmas postcard in the mailbox from an ex in Singapore, and spend several minutes sobbing on the floor. it’s good. i was long overdue for a cry.

[microsuedemouse]

this post got longer than anticipated so I'm putting it under a cut - it's just me musing about writing queer characters and how best to include representation in my work without making their queerness the focal point of their existence.

a couple of days ago out of nowhere an idea came to me to solve a narrative problem in a story I've been working on in various iterations for over a decade but haven't actually thought much about in definitely months, if not over a year

(which was interesting in itself, and speaks perhaps to that idea of letting a project shift to the back of your head when it's not cooperating with you, and maybe it will continue to simmer back there and when you check on it again it will have developed some)

but anyway part of this solution involved the introduction of another character, who would probably serve as a recurring but tertiary presence for the story as a whole, such as it is. (like so many of my projects, it's never had a singular distinct plot, so much as just a premise and a cast and possible storylines.) and said character, the moment I started writing her, very obviously to me, turned out to be trans.

and it all got me thinking again about the ways that gender/sexuality/related topics have historically existed in my writing and my characters and my worlds. I have been consciously aware of my inclusion of queer characters in my work since sometime in high school - probably around the time that sites like tumblr began to educate me more on social subjects and I started to become actively invested in them - but even now, some 10+ years later and having come to the understanding that I am neither straight nor cis, I am almost never compelled to make characters' queerness like... loud or obvious or A Point.

like. okay. so. if I'm being totally honest, there were many years during which I sympathised with R*wling over the whole 'Dumbledore is gay but it just Never Came Up' thing because I've got lots of characters whose queerness likely wouldn't come up in the story the way I was telling it. (I hope I don't need this disclaimer but: I no longer sympathise with that, or really anything she says. she is a terf and I do not support her.) because their gender/orientation/etc. doesn't necessarily have any impact on or relevance to their story arc as it exists in my head. I have characters who, yeah, you'll know they're gay, because they have romance subplots - but I also have others for whom it wouldn't be relevant to bring it up unless I engineered a reason for it to come up.

and I've been mulling it over for a few days and I think some of it probably has to do with my OWN feelings about identity and how it's perceived by others. being ace and bi and nonbinary are all parts of who I am, yeah, of course, but under most circumstances I really don't feel strongly about having other people know that. yeah, okay, it can be annoying sometimes to be Assumed Straight or Assumed Female but by and large those things are all very internal to me and I don't actually care what other people think when they look at me. so like, even though I 100% understand the importance of unambiguous representation, I don't personally feel the need for it in most cases.

so you wind up with me sitting here, looking at this new character who's not big enough in the story to have a whole Thing about being trans, and whose transness is far from the most interesting or relevant thing about her... wondering how to make it clear without feeling like I'm shoehorning it in. I know how to code her, how to include lines of dialogue and things that a sharp reader could pick up on and go 'hey this makes it sound like she's trans,' but I'd love to be able to be more direct than that without making it a whole Thing. it's a lot more relevant that she's a super-friendly party animal, that she's a nearly-full-time sugar baby, and most of all that she's a demon who uses human secrets like currency, collecting and trading them as social capital! being trans is not anywhere near the front of the list when it comes to prominent aspects of her character and with her being tertiary to the story I'm left wondering how to include it in a way that isn't overly obvious or like, crammed-in-for-the-sake-of-it.

and, idk. I think this branches off into a lot of other conversations for me, too. like how I don't relate to my peers' way of exploring and celebrating their queerness by talking about it all the time or viewing everything through that lens. or how I love when people have all kinds of different headcanons/reads of their favourite characters based wholly on what they want to see but that doesn't do anything for me personally - if I'm reading a character as queer, that's gonna be based on something I'm picking up in the text itself; that's just how I read. or how I'm not actually particularly more compelled by queer stories/romances than by cishet ones.

but I dunno. I dunno. I want to be a responsible and proactive writer who is direct about the inclusion of queerness in her writing, because audiences need and deserve that. but I don't wanna make queerness the centre of a character or story if it's not about that already, and I don't wanna shoehorn their queerness into the dialogue/narration just for the sake of having it there. (and as a writer, I can't rely on subtle visual cues, like pride flags in the backgrounds of scenes or whatever - like, if I mention them, I'm Making A Point Of Mentioning Them. if you draw a pride flag on a bedroom wall in the background of a comic panel and don't comment on it, it's just environmental storytelling, y'know?)

idk. I'm still growing as a writer, and I'm sure eventually I'll figure out how to do this in a way that works for me. but for now I'm left sitting here looking at another queer character wondering how to do her justice without turning it into a whole unnecessary ordeal.

#Courtney talks #writing #queerness #representation #also don't reblog please #not that I expect anyone to but sometimes with posts like these it happens and it weirds me out lol

[cwnerd12]

“Palace Magnifique” Rose stands on stage in a tastefully understated black gown, First Night, “Considerable changes have been made since First Night was last held, but Gilboa’s dedication to the fine arts remains the same. Tonight, for the first time, I am joined by a new Minister of Arts and Culture. I’m very pleased to introduce Miss Monique Broadnax.” She applauds politely as Monique makes a dramatic, sweeping entrance. She’s dressed in an elaborate gown with trains in trans pride colors. Rose maintains a tight smile as the crowd applauds wildly for Monique. David, sitting besides Jessie, cheers for her. Monique, “Good evening!” More applause, shouts of “YAAAAAS!” Rose’s smile tightens even more. Monique, “For years, the Shiloh Ballet has been a symbol of grace and culture. Tonight, we seek to continue the tradition of First Night, but to bring it into a new era. As this city changes, its culture must change along with it. Tonight, for the first time, new styles of dance will be incorporated into the performance, style of dance that have previously been considered to be less than. Tonight, we are once again blessed by angels, but we invite new ones to the table. Please, welcome our new dancers.” She and Rose graciously leave the stage to applause. Classical music plays, and ballet dancers pirouette across the stage. After a few moments of pure ballet, the music and lighting change; suddenly all colors and hip-hop. Vogue dancers appear on the stage, dancing furiously. Society people pretend not to be highly confused and/or outraged. Gays and AFG veterans finger-snap and shout “YAAAAAAAAS!” Jessie’s jaw drops in delight and David smiles and laughs at her astonishment. More fierce dancing.

(“Tomorrow Is My Turn” Nina Simone) David’s portrait hangs in the palace- bright and colorful, with a big, optimistic smile on David’s face. Monique leads a team of designers and architects, furiously taking notes, around the lobby of the palace, “There needs to be some actual life in this place, some warmth, I want plants, natural light, and some color. There should be design elements keeping in the celestial theme of the AFG, and maybe a few butterflies as a tasteful nod to history.” She turns around, “King David has stated that the most important thing is that the palace be open to all people. There should be no part of the palace that isn’t wheelchair accessible. Prince Jack lives here and he still can’t visit half the building. We’re beginning a new day!” In the council chamber, David sits and speaks into the camera, “Good evening. Today I signed into law a declaration of rights for the Citizens of Gilboa.” David has his picture taken for Elite Magazine. He smiles with brilliant charm. In his office, a reporter asks, “The impact of your kingship is being felt all across North America. Do you encourage those in other countries to take up the fight for their rights?” David, “Not unless they’re willing to go through hell for it. You think you know what the worst thing that can happen is, but then, something even worse happens, and then something even worse happens, and it just keeps getting worse and worse. If you think you can survive that, then, maybe.” On TV: David, “Citizens of Gilboa have a right to free speech and a free press.” Jack sits behind the cameramen, smiling supportively and giving a thumbs-up. At their own press conference, Adam and Liam stand behind two podiums in crisp new AFG uniforms. Adam, “With the cease-fire with Gath fully implemented, King David is beginning the integration of AFG forces into the Gilboan Army.” Elsewhere in Shiloh, buildings damaged by the Amalekites get repaired. Joel gets photographed as he holds up the declaration of rights, “I wrote this.” Asher is photographed smiling and leading a service in a synagogue. Shay is photographed smiling and standing in front of a proud group of Queens of Gilboa in their new uniforms. David breaks ground on a housing project for refugees as a crowd lovingly cheers and applauds. Abby poses proudly in her office. Jack has his picture taken. Photographer, “Can you turn your head a little bit, I want to get a better view of your scars.” Jack’s smile fades, and he turns his head. In his office, David explains to the reporter, “Being king really is exciting, I’m actually building things and getting things done.” He presses a button on his phone, “Abby, can you get me those reports I asked you for this morning?” Abby, over the phone, “Lick my BALLS, David! You aren’t the only person who’s busy today!” David laughs nervously, “We haven’t quite lost the informality of the AFG yet.” In their apartment, Jack watches an elevator being installed by the staircase. Back at Liam and Adam’s press conference, Liam says, “AFG veterans who wish to retire from combat will be given full benefits and recognition as veterans of Gilboa.” Reinhardt grins like a smug, handsome asshole as he poses in front of a display of weapons. Rose is photographed at her press podium. Monique is photographed in front of the still spray-painted MSS building, wearing a sparkly gold gown, and waving an AFG flag in the manner of Liberty Leading the People. David, “*announces equal rights, no discrimination based on religion, race, gender, or sexual orientation.*” Gay couples flood a courthouse trying to get married. One of the couples is Abby and Michelle, holding hands and giggling. Michelle wears a slinky white satin slip gown and Abby wears a feminine tux. At her desk, Rose receives a magazine: on the cover is Jessie, “Gilboa’s Mom.” Rose tosses it aside dismissively. Jack and David have their picture taken together, David standing behind Jack. Reporter, “Will Prince Jack be granting an interview?” Jack glances at David. David, “Oh, no. Jack’s made really remarkable progress in his recovery, but speech remains a real difficulty for him. I’d be glad to answer a few questions, though.” Jack tries to smile. At Liam and Adam’s press conference, a reporter asks, “Will either of you be returning to active duty?” Adam, “If King David asks us.” Liam grins, “This is a good thing because if I were Premiere Shaw, I’d be terrified to know that I had this guy coming after me.” He points at Adam. At sundown, Monique stands in front of a building, looking up at its neon sign. It flickers and lights up, PALACE MAGNIFIQUE. Monique claps and laughs with delight.  Reporter, “You’ve legalized gay marriage in Gilboa. Are you and Prince Jack intending on getting married any time soon?” Both David and Jack blush and laugh. Jack looks up at David. David, “Oh, man, I’d love to, but royal weddings are a big deal, aren’t they? I’ve got a ton of stuff that I’m working on, I don’t know when I can find the time to do a wedding.” Jack, “We should.” David, “Yeah, we should.” Rose watches as the cold stone facade of the palace lobby is taken down. She stoically tries to hide her sadness. Monique saunters past, followed by architects and designers, “The new stairwell should go over here. It creates more of a natural flow, has better feng shui.”

In bed, at night, Jack wakes up, rubs his eyes, and sees that he’s by himself. Slowly and carefully, he gets himself into his wheelchair and goes out into the living area. He sees a light coming from David’s office. He goes over and opens the door. Jack, groggily, “David?” David looks up from his work, “Oh, shit, what time is it?” He looks at his watch, “Damnit, I’m sorry.” Jack, “It’s okay.” David puts his stuff away, and says, apologetically, “I swear I was gonna go to bed with you, but I wanted to take one last look at these refugee numbers, I kinda got sucked into them and lost track of time.” He goes over to Jack, “Come on, let’s go to bed.” They go towards the bedroom. They both get into bed. Jack curls up on his pillow, away from David.

Jack at physical therapy: he does exercises for balance and coordination after brain injury. It’s difficult and strenuous but Jack powers through it with intense concentration and determination. Afterwards, his physical therapist, Josh, helps him back into his wheelchair. Josh, “You’re doing really great, Jack.” Jack, “Thanks.” Josh, “If it were based on strength alone, you could run a marathon tomorrow. Your issues are all related to balance and coordination, which are trickier to address. Are you continuing your exercises at home?” Jack, “Yeah.” Josh, “Good. You need to be walking around at home. Are you using your walker?” Jack, “Yes.” Josh, “You need to start using it all the time. It’s gonna be harder moving around with it at first, but once you start improving your coordination, it’ll be no problem.” Jack, “Okay." Josh claps him on the shoulder, “You’re doing good, man. See you Wednesday.”

Jack quietly goes into the council chamber, where David sits deep in discussion with his cabinet. He goes over to the railing at the top of the gallery. He rests his arms on it, and then rests his chin on his arms, watching intently. David, “Okay, what’s next on the agenda?” Asher reads, “Mental health care for AFG veterans.” David, “In the Elite interview, I talk a lot about my own mental health and how important taking care of it has been for me, by the time it comes out, I absolutely need to make sure that AFG veterans have full access to quality mental health care.” The minister of health, Miranda, says, “I have a good plan in place, but I need to go through it with military leaders and make sure it can be implemented.” David, “Excellent, when this meeting is over, You, Shay, and Caesar can stay and we’ll hammer out the details together,” he turns to Asher, “Anything else?” Asher, “Nope, that’s it.” David, “Sweet! Let’s get to work!” Everyone but Shay, Reinhardt, Miranda, and David gets up and leaves. David glances up at the gallery and spots Jack, “Jack! Hey!” Jack smiles at him, “Hey, babe.” Reinhardt rolls his eyes. David, “Hey, you should come join us, I think you’ll have some great ideas!” He pushes Jack towards the stairs, but then stops. They both stare down at the steps. David, “Shit. I guess I really need to prioritize making the council chamber accessible, huh? Do you think you could make it down the stairs if I help you?” Jack looks at the stairs warily, and then looks up at David, “Lunch.” David, “Oh, that’s right! Shit! I’m kind of busy.” Jack, “Okay.” David, “I’ll see you for dinner, though, okay?” Jack, “Yeah.” David leans down and kisses him on the cheek, “You go enjoy your lunch.”

In the kitchen, Jack and Michelle eat sandwiches. Michelle, “I got all my textbooks today. This afternoon, I’m taking Cameron on a tour of the campus. He already says he wants to go into trauma surgery, can you believe it? Most of my classmates still have no idea what they want to specialize in.” Jack, “Cool.” Rose enters, carrying a magazine. Michelle, “Hey, Mom.” Jack, “Hey.” Rose sits down next to them and lays the magazine out, “An advance copy of Elite came today. David looks very handsome.” Michelle, snidely, “Of course he fucking does.” Rose, “I say Silas looked better on his first Elite cover, but of course I’m biased.” Jack points at the picture of David, “Second. Second cover.” Rose, “Oh, I know.” Jack opens the magazine, and starts flipping pages. He lands on Michelle’s picture. Michelle, “Oh, I like that one.” Jack smiles and flips a few more pages to find his picture. In the image, he sits in profile, the emphasis on his scars, still visible through his hair. Jack tries to hide his displeasure. Rose, “It’s a very striking image.” Michelle, “Hey, I got something for the two of you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out two photographs, “Wedding pictures. You two can put them wherever you like.” She hands one to Rose and one to Jack. Rose looks at hers, and says with a hint of shade, “Well, you two look very happy.” Michelle, “What?” Rose, “I just imagined your wedding would be a bit different is all.” Michelle, “Was this before or after I vowed to remain a virgin and never marry?” Rose, “I was just imagining things.” Michelle, “Hey, you and Dad got married on an army base while you were pregnant. You can’t complain about my wedding.” Rose, “I’m not complaining.” Jack stares down at his picture in Elite. Rose, “What’s wrong?” Jack doesn’t say anything. Rose, “Do you not like the picture?” Jack, “Scars.” He flips the pages, and finds the picture of him and David, small and embedded into a page of text. Michelle, “Hey, that’s a nice picture.” Jack, “Small.” Rose, “Don’t fret over it, Jack, there will be other magazines in the future.” Jack grimaces. Rose, “Whatever you do, just don’t complain about it to David. Your job is to support him, not add to his worries.” Michelle, “So Jack is supposed to just be some subservient wifey now?” Rose, “He doesn’t have to be subservient, but being the king’s spouse does have its own unique responsibilities.” Jack, “Not married.” Rose, “When you are. I speak from experience. The success of David’s kingship rests largely on you keeping him happy. You have to give him everything he wants, and know what he needs before he needs it. You have to lessen his burden, not increase it.” Michelle, bitterly, “That’s how Seth was kept from us for ten years.” Rose, “That was your father, not me.”

In the evening, Jack lays on David’s shoulder while they watch TV together. David plays with Jack’s hair, “I swear, your hair is growing back curly.” Jack smiles, “Just messy.” David, “No, it’s curly. I like it.” He kisses the top of Jack’s head, and then yawns deeply, “Shit, it’s been a long day.” Jack, “Tired?” David, “Yeah, I think I might go to bed. You want to join me, or watch TV for a little bit longer?” Jack, “Join you.” David gets up, and then helps Jack up. David, “Lemme get you your walker…” Jack, “No. Myself.” David, “Come on, don't be stubborn, you need the walker.” He goes to get it, but Jack takes a few shaky steps on his own. David grabs the walker and hurries over, “Jack!” Jack keeps going, and then stumbles. David lunges and catches him, “Don’t give yourself another head injury!” He tries to get the walker again, but Jack pushes it away. David, “Jack!” Jack keeps going, walking slowly and unsteadily on his own. David gives up and hovers close behind him. Jack stumbles again, and David grabs him. David helps him re-gin his balance, and slowly, they make their way into the bedroom.

Jack and Reinhardt sit in David’s office. Reinhardt, “All right, I had my secretary draw up a report for you, everything you need to be briefed on should be in there.” Jack looks through a stack of papers. Reinhardt, “Anyway, I am BUSY-” Jack cuts him off, “Wait.” Reinhardt, “What?” Jack knits his eyebrows, “Questions.” Reinhardt, “What questions?” Jack, points to a page and slowly reads, “Arming rebels in Gath,” he looks at Reinhardt. Reinhardt, “I just thought why are we sending our troops to fight Shaw when Gath is full of rebel groups willing to do it instead?” Jack, “Terrorists.” Reinhardt, “The AFG was considered a terrorist group until you all took over.” Jack, “No… Amalekite terrorists.” Reinhardt, “The Amalekites never operated in Gath.” Jack, “No.” Reinhardt, “I mean, they blew up that one bomb but it was only so David would escape, right? And anyway, all of our intelligence says that the Amalekites died with Alek Amal, so we don’t have to worry about them.” Jack, frustrated, “No.” Reinhardt, “What? Are you saying they’re still working?” Jack, “No.” Reinhardt, “Then what the hell are you saying?” Jack sighs. He points to the list of rebels in Gath, “Bad guys!” Reinhardt, “Bad guys who are on our side.” Jack, “Can’t.” Reinhardt, “Can’t what?” Jack, concentrating to say the words, “Help… bad guys!” Reinhardt sighs with annoyance, “Well, it’s just a proposal, not a plan. Besides, you always get David to do what you say.” His voice is full of insinuation. Jack glares at him, “Done?” Reinhardt, “Yes, I’m done. And I have other meetings to get to, so if you will please excuse me.” He gets up, and leaves. Jack watches him leave, and then leaves himself.

Reinhardt walks into David’s office, “You requested me?” David, “You briefed Jack this morning like I told you to, right?” Reinhardt, “I did.” David, “How did it go?” Reinhardt, “As well as could be expected. We had a few disagreements.” David, “Disagreements? I told you, Jack is still your authority, if he gives you orders, you have to follow them.” Reinhardt, “That’s just it. Jack is not exactly the best person for conversation.” David, “What the fuck are you saying?” Reinhardt, “I can’t follow his orders if I have no idea what the hell he’s trying to say to me.” David, “Okay, before this goes any further, do you seriously not understand what he’s trying to say, or are you just being an asshole?” Reinhardt, “I need clear orders so that I don’t get blamed when they go badly.” David, “So you’re just being an asshole.” Reinhardt, "Am I supposed to be buddies with Jack now?" David, “Don't ask like you can't understand him!” There’s a soft knock on the door. David, “Yes?" The door opens and a secretary enters, “Sir, Queen Rose is here to see you.” David, “I'll be there in just a moment.” Reinhardt, “Should I leave?” David, “We will deal with this later.” Reinhardt, “Well, I’ll see you later, then.” He gets up and leaves. As he exits the room, Rose enters. Rose, “What is it, David?” David pulls something up on his tablet and hands it to her, “This.” Rose takes it. On the screen is an OMGossip headline, “Prince Jack’s Struggle.” Rose, “Ah, Andrew.” David, “I have been clear from the beginning, Jack is off-limits! There’s personal information in there! They say that Jack has migraines and seizures!” Rose, “He does have migraines and seizures.” David, “How could they know that?!” Rose, “The palace has over 5,000 employees, and this doesn’t include the employees of the hospital and rehabilitation center. Any one of them could have been paid to say something.” David, “I want it looked into and anyone who talked fired.” Rose, “Tell Thomasina.” David, “This isn’t the first time OMGossip has published personal shit. They’re the ones who published the fucking sex tape!” Rose, “So what are you going to do about it, David? This is all factual information. Under your new declaration of rights, they’re perfectly free to do it. There’s nothing you can do.”  David, “The only way they could have gotten that sex tape was from Gath, this is an issue of national security!” Rose, “Then discuss it with Minister Reinhardt.” David sits back in his chair, slightly deflated, “Jack’s recovery is hard enough as it is. I don’t want anyone adding to it. Can you, like, talk to Andrew?” Rose, “Andrew learned from his father to resent anyone named Benjamin, and it’s a lesson he took to heart. The fact that Jack got CrossGen only makes it worse. He won’t listen to me. He won’t listen to anybody. And besides. This is hardly the worst thing Jack has had written about him.” David, “That’s beside the point!” Rose, “Right now, you have much, much bigger things to worry about. I have the outline of my Council testimony finished, and we’ll be meeting about it this afternoon. You need to figure out what you want to say.” David annoyed, “There’s nothing to say.” Rose, “That’s not good enough. I'll see you this afternoon.”

At speech therapy, Jack slowly reads out loud from a book. He pauses and rubs his eyes. His therapist, Zoe, say, “Hey, you’re doing good, keep going.” Jack, “Headache.” Zoe, “Ah, gee, that’s rough. You look tired, did you get much sleep last night?” Jack, “No.” Zoe, “Well, make sure you take a nap this afternoon and try to catch up. We gotta keep going, though, come on.” Jack begins reading again, but he goes slowly and struggles with the words. He squints with pain and rubs his head. He pauses again, blinking at the pages in front of him. Zoe, "Are you sure you don’t want some aspirin or something?” Jack winces and then suddenly vomits on the table. Zoe jumps to her feet, “Okay, let's take a break.” Jack wipes his mouth with embarrassment.

Outside the council chamber, David speaks in low, conspiratorial tones to Liam and Adam, “OMGossip published a story about Jack and I am not happy about it.” Liam, to Adam, “I told you man, I should have beat the shit out of that motherfucker when I had the chance!” David, “What?” Adam, quickly, “We saw Andrew Cross at Council. Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it.” David, “Sine being in touch with the press is you guys’ job, I want you to pay attention. Ask around. where's OMGossip getting its sources? Is it someone inside the palace or from somewhere else?” Liam, “You want me to deal with it when I find out?” David, “What? No! No, don’t do anything stupid. If you find any information whatsoever, tell me immediately, don’t do anything else. With the declaration of rights, I’m not supposed to be doing anything to interfere with the press, and… Look, I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about me, but I want Jack to be left alone during his recovery, got it?” Liam, “Got it.” Adam knits his eyebrows in concern. David, “Adam?” Adam, “Yeah, I guess. I… are you sure we won’t be breaking the law or anything?” David, “Hey, I’m the king, the law is whatever I say it is.” Behind them, Thomasina steps out of the council chamber, “Your majesty, we’re waiting for you.” David glances back at her, “Okay, just gimme a second.” He turns back to Liam and Adam, “Just keep your eyes open, and whatever happens, I’ve got you guys covered. Come on.” He goes into the council chamber.

In the chamber, David sits at the table with Rose, Thomasina, Joel, Abby, Asher, and a host of other advisors. Liam and Adam find a place in the gallery. Abby begins talking, “Confirmation Council is largely symbolic, in the end, David is still king of Gilboa, no matter what, but it serves the very important purpose of setting a clear narrative on what happened during the coup, and establishing why David is king. Everyone directly involved with the coup is expected to testify.” Adam diligently takes notes. Rose, “Honesty is going to be our best course of action, since we have nothing to hide, and David has built himself an image of being somewhat unflinchingly honest.” An aide discreetly enters the chamber and goes up to David, "Sir, Prince Jack has cancelled his afternoon speech therapy for today.” David, "What? Why? What happened?” Aide, “He has a migraine.” David, "Where is he now?” Aide, “He’s in bed.” David. “Shit.” He stands up, “I have to go." Abby, “David this is very important." David, "I have to go be with Jack." Abby, “David, this is when you tell everyone why you're king!” David, “I've done that already! I’ve done it like five times! If someone doesn't understand by now, that's their fault. Figure out what I need to say, and I’ll say it.” Abby, “Some of it should come from you.” David, “Then we’ll reschedule! I have to go!” Adam watches him as he hurries out.

Jack lays in bed in a darkened room, eyes shut tight with pain. The door opens, and Jack winces at the beam of light that enters the room. David steps in and says softly, “Hey, are you okay?” Jack moans. David loosens his tie and takes his jacket off. He gets into bed beside Jack and puts his arms around him. Jack, “Work.” David, “Don’t worry about that.” Jack, “No.” David, “I want to be with you.” In too much pain to protest, Jack curls up close against David, and David gently strokes his hair, “I'm not going anywhere.”

David goes into Vesper’s cell and sits down. David, “Can I talk to you?” Vesper, “I have nothing better to be doing.” David sighs heavily, “I don’t get it… you murdered your wife.” Vesper, “Yes, I did.” David, “You turned your army on your own people. You murdered thousands, maybe millions of innocent people, and you murdered the person who loved and supported you and was the mother of your children… but when I talk to you, you seem pretty decent. You’re not like Silas or Warner. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would do what you did.” Vesper, “I know what you’re trying to ask, and I’m afraid it’s a question best left to the scholars- Why did Vesper Abbadon go absolutely batshit insane? Anyone else’s guess is as good as mine.” David, “Is that what you’d tell your kids?” Vesper, “Perhaps I’d try to give them something better, but… I’ve tried to explain it to myself countless times over the years. Every time I think I’m close to some sort of rationalization or explanation, I see how wrong it is, and I’m once again left with no answers. Evil is like that. Sometimes, it just exists with no why.” David makes a face. Vesper, “What other answers are you looking for?” David, hesitant, “Is there something wrong with the fact that… I actually kind of enjoy being king? I’m helping people! I’m getting stuff done! That… that feels really good. And it’s really scary to have that power. I don’t want to end up like Silas… or like you. I’ve already done a lot of things I regret, from before I was ever even king.” Vesper, “You know your own faults, and you’ve learned from your mistakes. You’re already doing better than I did.” David, “I thought for sure, I’d hate being king, but, I’d do it because doing the right thing is hard. I thought as long as I had Jack with me, I’d be okay. But instead, the work’s making me happy, and Jack…” he grows quiet, “Jack isn’t happy. And I don’t know how to make him happy.” He shoots Vesper a dirty look, “I know what you did to gay people, so I don’t know why I’m telling you.” Vesper, “You’re seeking a connection with someone who understands what you’re going through.” David, “Laura knows, she’s given me plenty of advice.” Vesper, “But she’s a busy queen with her own life and her own problems. I, one the other hand, am a captive audience. I have no right to judge you, and I won’t share your secrets.” David, “Yeah, I guess.” Vesper, “You care about Jack, right?” David, “He’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Vesper, “Then don’t ignore his unhappiness, or pretend it doesn’t exist.” David, “I don’t know how to make him happy! That’s the worst thing about being king- I can solve everyone’s problems except for the one person I care about the most!” Vesper, “I don’t have an answer for you, David, but I think you may have one for yourself.”

Hobbling slowly on his walker, Jack gets into the finished elevator in the apartment, presses the button, and goes up to the second floor. He gets out of the elevator, goes over to the stairs, and looks down them. He thinks for a moment, and then stands up. He puts the walker to the side. He clutches the railing, and carefully, slowly, lowers himself down the first step. With slightly more confidence, he goes down the second step, and then third. On the fourth, he stumbles, and falls violently down the flight of stairs. He grimaces painfully and sits up, rubbing his shoulder. He looks around for something to help him stand up, but it’s all out of reach. Panic washes over his face, but he takes a deep, determined breath, and tries to get up. He rises a few feet, but then stumbles over and is once again on the ground. He tries to get up, again, but falls. Panting, he tries once more, and almost makes it, but loses his balance. He lies on his back, teeth gritted, breathing deeply, seething. He lets out a scream of rage, and pounds his fists and feet on the floor. When his anger is spent, he breaks down and sobs with frustration. The door opens, and David enters. He sees Jack lying at the foot of the stairs, and runs to him, “Jack?!” He kneels down beside him, “Jack?! Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Jack, muttering, “I’m fine.” David, “What happened? Did you have a seizure?” Jack, “No. I fell.” David helps him sit up, “Do you feel okay? You aren’t dizzy or anything, are you?” Jack, “No.” He feels his head, “Did you dent your plates?” Jack grabs his hand and throws it away from him, resentful. David looks up at the walker at the top of the stairs, “Did… did you try to go down the stairs by yourself?” Jack, “Yes.” David, dismayed, “Jack, you aren’t even doing that in therapy!” Jack gives him a resentful look. David, “Are you okay?” Jack, somewhat defeated, “Yeah.” David touches his forehead, “You’ve got a bruise.” Jack turns his face away from David’s hand. David lowers it and sits quietly for a moment, “I know you’re not happy. I know you’re in a really difficult position, and…” he drifts off, “I don’t know what I can do to make it better for you.” Jack puts his hands over David’s, “You… be with you.” David, “Is that what you want?” Jack, “Yes.” David thinks for a moment, “All right. I should’ve had some time with you, anyway. Do you… want to get married?” Jack smiles a little bit, “Yes.” David smiles back, “Then we should do that. Take a couple weeks for a honeymoon. Finally take some time to be together. Does that sound good?” Jack smiles, “Yeah.” David, “Okay. We’ll do that.” He thinks for a long moment, and then smiles sadly, “I never really thought much about how I'd ask you to marry me, but I always figured it'd be a lot more romantic than this." Jack leans forward and puts his head on David’s shoulder. David puts his arms around him, “You're still what matters most to me.”