#because i had the earth-shattering experience of being ATTRACTED to men | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echo-bleu · 4 years

Text

jump and hope it’s not a cliff

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

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

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

It’s just a fact.

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

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

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

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

Read on AO3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinking about?”

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

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

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

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

It’s just a fact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why is it important?”

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

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

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

“But I’m gay,” Alec says.

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

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

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

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

Alec just shakes his head.

“Even romantically?”

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

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

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

“When did you start feeling attraction for me?”

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

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

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

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

“And asexuals can do that?”

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

“So what am I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?”

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

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

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

“What about dinner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he gives Magnus a wide smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your name is masculine, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know the parade is important to you—”

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

“Alright,” Alec nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Underhill nods.

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

“Thank you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I tried to just ignore him, but—”

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

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

Alec guides them both to sit down on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1.

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

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

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

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

“What is this?” he asks.

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

“The one they asked you to testify in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

“You did all this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Magnus blinks. “Four times?”

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

“Yes?” Magnus prompts him.

“Are you angry I didn’t tell you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you?” Magnus frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alec grabs his hand and pulls them through together.

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

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scorpiaiswifegoals · 5 years

Text

Big Lesbian Feelings

Listening to and reading about other people reflecting on realizing they are gay can be very confusing for me because so often it seems tide up in a character or specific person, but I can't say the same. My identity realization didn't pop up as, oh yes this girl is super cute I have a crush on her. I wish I could, that's a fun family friendly version of realizing you're gay. It's the sexless non erotic version that's palatable to heterosexual narratives of homosexuality. It's the easy to swallow romantic version.

No, I remember seeing art of naked or partially clothed women and feeling a desperate need to see more. Of sneaking, reading cosmo magazine to read about female pleasure and completely being engrossed in it. I remember the very first time I saw a pornographic depiction of a naked woman in a pop up add from a-z lyrics in 2004 and feeling like a switch had been flipped inside my brain. I remember sneaking pornography that was just erotic images of women alone and women masturbating for years and years as my primary source or pornography. I remeber seeing my first androgynous man and being like oh wow this is it yall the perfect parent approvable projection of my desire. I remember getting into bandom fanfiction in elementary school and gravitating immediately to male×male content because the men I liked were palatable when they were kissing each other, but not when touching women. Not when possibly touching me.

For years and years my greatest adulthood dream was to go and buy a physical pornographic magazine so I could hold erotic images of women in my hands and boldly purchase this content and own it as mine. I snuck looks at every plastic wrapped playboy magazine at the Barnes and Noble. The sexy beach babes calender at the mall kiosk. Sports illustrated swimsuit edition was my enemy and my friend.

I remember having romantic fantasies about what it would be like to be loved and finding someone to love but unable to maintain that fantasy if it progressed past violent sex and pursuit.

I remember kissing my first boy, of making out and having him touch me and feeling nothing and wanting to throw myself at him to satiate the gnawing empty place that men were supposed to fill up. I remember the first time a girl kissed me like technicolor, like a miracle, she did it in front of her mom and not even the fear I felt could surpass the wanting. I remember wanting to avoid content that was feminine and women focused because I could barely look at girls in school without feeling like I was doing harm to them. Still I craved it.

Yet somehow for years I didn't understand these traits as lesbiansim. I thought that my desire for girls was a fluke. Something that in some way meant something else. I told someone recently what really flipped the switch for me was about half way through highschool when boys and girls became so firmly separated and the bodies of boys were so different from the bodies of girls. Other girls around me found boys at school attractive and I just couldn't do it. Sure I had my male celebrity of the moment to fixate on and direct all my masculine attraction toward wasn't that good enough??? I'm still not 100% if my most basic appreciation of men and masculine traits are not something I learned how to replicate as a reflection of straight women.

One of the funniest things in the entire world to me is the ONLY hypermasculine man/character I've ever been interested in is Thor and CH version of Thor is considered a lesbian icon and the lesbian MCU projection. The irony.

So often I see lesbians talk about all their male friends and having masculine interests and I can't relate to that either. I avoided and rejected all things male. I have never experienced gender dysphoria and have always been highly feminine. I wanted everything in my life to be full of girls and girly. I loved sleep overs and girl scouts and all of those things because they allowed me to exist in a realm where only girls existed. I remember the wild desire of going to a pool party in middle school and the prettiest girl wanted me to jump in with her to show off for some boys that were there and not caring that the boys were watching but caring that she wanted to hold hands when we jumped in.

No I never really cared if boys were watching and I didn't notice when they were, but I learned how to emulate sexiness through consuming so much content made for men. I knew exactly how I should look, and be, and exist in the world based on what men liked. When I discovered feminism and got entrenched in feminist theory and queer theory my world kinda came unhinged because the next few years of my life just felt like pandoras box of rage. I was angry at the entire world for existing the way it did. I didn't want to like anyone I just wanted to destroy the parts of the world and myself that had created the self hating depression monster that lived inside me.

I still struggle to pull apart how all these pieces got stuck together but here they are.

The last two years of my life have been about relearning myself. Learning to love myself. Learning to embrace my desires and my truth. I'm finally starting to feel free. Less unhinged and afraid and more connected and at peace. The truth of lesbiansim for me was realizing that sure I was probably capable of tolerating some men touching me if I had to under specific circumstances and sure some men were attractive under certain conditions. Any girl any woman any femme dtf. I realized, sure I had a type when it comes to girls. Girls I preferred and found especially attractive. But as a rule: tall, short, skinny, thick, fat, blonde, brunette, electric green, coal black eyes or ocean blue, 18 or older all girls. This was a REVELATION because when I thought I liked boys it was always only this boy, this week, with this haircut while dressed like this.

Now that I allow myself to look at women it's like a fucking earth shattering experience sometimes just to go to Target. Lady walking into the store in front of me. Amazing ass show stopping booty. Barista too cute to handle can't order latte barista too cute. Girl in the chips aisle wearing high waisted leggings and a bralette can't look away suddenly I need chips too.

Gay

I'm Gay

Big Gay Surprise I guess

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caitsbooks · 5 years

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6 Summer Adult Romances!

Click here to view the full post on my blog, or read more to find out more about these books!

Despite still feeling kinda new to the romance genre, I wanted to compile a list of some of my favorite romance novel’s I’ve read, that I think are perfect for summer.

Whether you’ll be reading on the beach or nice and comfortable in air conditioning, these books will be the perfect addition to your summer!!

Read more for descriptions of each book, plus check out my blog to see 6 YA Romances that are perfect for summer!

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THE HATING GAME BY SALLY THORNE

Page Count: 387 pages Publisher: William Morrow Release Date: August 9th, 2016 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Lucy Hutton has always been certain that the nice girl can get the corner office. She’s charming and accommodating and prides herself on being loved by everyone at Bexley & Gamin. Everyone except for coldly efficient, impeccably attired, physically intimidating Joshua Templeman. And the feeling is mutual. Trapped in a shared office together 40 (OK, 50 or 60) hours a week, they’ve become entrenched in an addictive, ridiculous never-ending game of one-upmanship. There’s the Staring Game. The Mirror Game. The HR Game. Lucy can’t let Joshua beat her at anything—especially when a huge new promotion goes up for the taking. If Lucy wins this game, she’ll be Joshua’s boss. If she loses, she’ll resign. So why is she suddenly having steamy dreams about Joshua, and dressing for work like she’s got a hot date? After a perfectly innocent elevator ride ends with an earth-shattering kiss, Lucy starts to wonder whether she’s got Joshua Templeman all wrong. Maybe Lucy Hutton doesn’t hate Joshua Templeman. And maybe, he doesn’t hate her either. Or maybe this is just another game.”

This book is what finally pushed me into reading adult romances. Yeah, I had read a couple before this one, but this is the book that made me fall in love with the genre. I know it’s been talked about by most everyone, but if you haven’t read it yet, this summer is the perfect time (especially with the movie in the works)!

THE KISS QUOTIENT (THE KISS QUOTIENT #1) BY HELEN HOANG

Page Count: 333 pages Publisher: Berkley Release Date: June 5th, 2018 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Stella Lane thinks math is the only thing that unites the universe. She comes up with algorithms to predict customer purchases — a job that has given her more money than she knows what to do with, and way less experience in the dating department than the average thirty-year-old. It doesn’t help that Stella has Asperger’s and French kissing reminds her of a shark getting its teeth cleaned by pilot fish. Her conclusion: she needs lots of practice — with a professional. Which is why she hires escort Michael Phan. The Vietnamese and Swedish stunner can’t afford to turn down Stella’s offer, and agrees to help her check off all the boxes on her lesson plan — from foreplay to more-than-missionary position… Before long, Stella not only learns to appreciate his kisses, but to crave all the other things he’s making her feel. Soon, their no-nonsense partnership starts making a strange kind of sense. And the pattern that emerges will convince Stella that love is the best kind of logic… ”

Firstly, if you aren’t a fan of series, don’t worry. This is just a series of companion novels, so you don’t have to commit to them. But trust me when I say, after reading this, you will want to. I just love this book so much. These characters are just absolutely amazing and you will not regret picking this up!

JOSH AND HAZEL’S GUIDE TO NOT DATING BY CHRISTINA LAUREN

Page Count: 309 pages Publisher: Gallery Books Release Date: September 4th, 2018 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Hazel Camille Bradford knows she’s a lot to take—and frankly, most men aren’t up to the challenge. If her army of pets and thrill for the absurd don’t send them running, her lack of filter means she’ll say exactly the wrong thing in a delicate moment. Their loss. She’s a good soul in search of honest fun. Josh Im has known Hazel since college, where her zany playfulness proved completely incompatible with his mellow restraint. From the first night they met—when she gracelessly threw up on his shoes—to when she sent him an unintelligible email while in a post-surgical haze, Josh has always thought of Hazel more as a spectacle than a peer. But now, ten years later, after a cheating girlfriend has turned his life upside down, going out with Hazel is a breath of fresh air. Not that Josh and Hazel date. At least, not each other. Because setting each other up on progressively terrible double blind dates means there’s nothing between them…right?”

I have two Christina Lauren books on this list because I am addicted to their books. However, this one is by far my favorite of theirs. It’s a friends-to-lovers done so well, you won’t be able to put it down. I know I wasn’t able to.

RED, WHITE, AND ROYAL BLUE BY CASEY MCQUISTON

Page Count: 423 pages Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin Release Date: May 14th, 2019 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

The plan for damage control: staging a fake friendship between the First Son and the Prince. Alex is busy enough handling his mother’s bloodthirsty opponents and his own political ambitions without an uptight royal slowing him down. But beneath Henry’s Prince Charming veneer, there’s a soft-hearted eccentric with a dry sense of humor and more than one ghost haunting him.

As President Claremont kicks off her reelection bid, Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret relationship with Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations. And Henry throws everything into question for Alex, an impulsive, charming guy who thought he knew everything: What is worth the sacrifice? How do you do all the good you can do? And, most importantly, how will history remember you?”

You all knew I would have to put this book on here. It’s my obsession. The love of my life. I know this book is getting a lot of hype right now, but let me tell you, it deserves all of it. This book is really something special. Not only is it an adorable romance with enemies-to-lovers and plenty of wit, but it’s also a powerful read that you don’t want to miss.

THE UNHONEYMOONERS BY CHRISTINA LAUREN

Page Count: 400 Publisher: May 14th, 2019 Release Date: Gallery Books Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Full Review ]

“Olive is always unlucky: in her career, in love, in…well, everything. Her identical twin sister Ami, on the other hand, is probably the luckiest person in the world. Her meet-cute with her fiancé is something out of a romantic comedy (gag) and she’s managed to finance her entire wedding by winning a series of Internet contests (double gag). Worst of all, she’s forcing Olive to spend the day with her sworn enemy, Ethan, who just happens to be the best man. Olive braces herself to get through 24 hours of wedding hell before she can return to her comfortable, unlucky life. But when the entire wedding party gets food poisoning from eating bad shellfish, the only people who aren’t affected are Olive and Ethan. And now there’s an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii up for grabs. Putting their mutual hatred aside for the sake of a free vacation, Olive and Ethan head for paradise, determined to avoid each other at all costs. But when Olive runs into her future boss, the little white lie she tells him is suddenly at risk to become a whole lot bigger. She and Ethan now have to pretend to be loving newlyweds, and her luck seems worse than ever. But the weird thing is that she doesn’t mind playing pretend. In fact, she feels kind of… lucky.”

While Josh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating may be my favorite Christina Lauren book, this one is pretty close. Enemies-to-lovers, fake datings, and basically every other classic trope everyone loves found their way into this extremely fun read.

WELL MET BY JEN DELUCA

Page Count: 336 Publisher: Berkley Release Date: September 3rd, 2019 Purchase Options: Amazon, Indiebound, Barnes and Noble [ Click Here For My Review Teaser ]

“Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him? The faire is Simon’s family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn’t have time for Emily’s lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she’s in her revealing wench’s costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they’re portraying? This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can’t seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon, or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.”

Okay, I know this one won’t be published until summer is over, but I need to mention it. It’s absolutely amazing! Seriously, it’s completely worth the wait. The relationship is so perfect, the characters are all amazing, and it takes place at a Ren Faire!!! What more could you ask for?

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What is your favorite summer romance? I really need some good recommendations!!

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els-imagines · 6 years

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Can I get Mad Paradox changing class to Boom Bringer, eventually Dominator? OwO

niki took this >:P

“Boom bringer” ….. sparky sparky boom man// SHOT- mod sei

WARNING: This is quite long. Could be somewhat AU. It’s also a mess…

(Changes, as always, are brought about by a catalyst.)

(His comes in the form of the dimensional witch, Metamorphy.)

Metamorphy is probably the closest to an equal he will ever have.

It’s different from the monstrous potential that has wrought the El Search Party tragedy again and again. Having absolute control over unmaterialistic concepts such as time and dimensions are a matter on a scale beyond one’s comprehension.

It’s chaos. It’s madness. It’s death.

(Death is but a mere concept now, to the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox.)

Coming to a point where everything is coming to an end, where he finally looks and sees no end to the tragedy that Mad Paradox has become (that Mad Paradox causes), he meets her again.

The very sight of her makes his breath hitch, as the otherworldly flow of her powers gather like a hyperactive cocoon all over her.

Happy, beautiful, unbroken Metamorphy, who can command the very dimensions as if playthings, who has no need to use it like he does because she’s happy, this is her home.

She’s… not exactly fine (none of them have been since the start of their journey) but she. is. happy.

Looking at her makes something that might have been bitter, ugly envy pierce through the fog of obsession and longing, and wraps around his half-missing organs tightly. The very sight of her beaming smile makes his Mana flare in agitation, the cracking telltale of his power trembling and forming the beginnings of an aggression, before they are stilled again.

(There is a reason, after all, why this very timeline - the root of his pain and madness and tragedy - still exists. There is a reason why Mad Paradox, in other timelines, grants more mercy to the counterparts of certain people than he ever granted himself.

He didn’t stay his hand - they weren’t THEM - but their deaths were painless and quick. That’s more than could be said for other people.)

It still hurts.

(Envy. Jealously. Longing. Obsession. Hatred.)

Mad Paradox ignores her calls and curls into himself, tugging his hood completely over his head in a clear statement of “Leave me the fuck alone”.

Metamorphy’s smile, to those who knew her, fades a little. “So… a failure again?” She of course knows of his exploits. Knows of his dream.

She also knows of how terrible he is, what a monster he has become.

Metamorphy didn’t care about that though. (It’s been a long time since she has cared about the death of strangers, since she has felt grief and guilt.) Add had stopped going with them after obtaining his power, and left the Party in search of his timeline, but that hadn’t stopped the bonds and fondness nor the left out space always ready whenever the brooding, maniac time-traveler came back.

He’s different, Metamorphy thinks as she squats down with her skirt tucked in. She ignores the way her power prowls dangerously, behind the façade of bubbles and sparkles and happiness (wHo HurT OnE oF hEr fRIenDs?).

She doesn’t know what answer she expected (what enemy she was supposed to crush), but somehow, she’s surprised when Mad Paradox, after a long moment of heavy silence, curls into himself further and, with an air of despair and hollowness, tells her:

“It’s not working.”

Metamorphy’s smile cracks.

“I can’t find her at all. I can’t go back. No matter how much I travel, how much I destroy, it isn’t working. It’s been so many years since I started and it isn’t working at all.”

Ah.

She knows this voice. She knows this body language. She remembers it.

(All of them are broken, shattered; deadened shadows of the happy children they used to be.)

Add starts trembling, violent shivers wracking his tiny, vanishing frame, which starts breaking apart.

Metamorphy’s pupils dilate.

“I’m so tired.”

In front of the visage of one of her (tentative and most likely unwilling) friends, Metamorphy’s heart, for the first time in a long while, starts pumping for something other than excitement and joy.

(What is this feeling? What is this emotion? It’s not nice. It’s unhappy. It’s bitter. I must do something about it.)

She doesn’t hesitate.

“You punched me.”

“Haha funny abo-”

“You punched me.”

“…Yup~ It actually felt sort of good. You’re SO squishy-”

A pissed off Mad Paradox finds himself forcefully dragged off by a cheery Metamorphy off to some unknown location, his cheek still retaining cracks from where the taller woman had promptly punched him after witnessing his NOT-breakdown.

Metamorphy expertly ignores the death glowing in his eyes and whoops excitedly as they reach - somewhere. Glowing rocks, the el’s power brimming in the spiritual veins of the earth, ancient buildings…. There’s even weird machines on wheels, large constructs of wood, and other weird things.

“We are in one of the places where the dimensional rifts are the weakest. It’s not so bad like with the Demon Realm, but I often play around here.” Metamorphy explains. “All that junk are things that fell from the rips I randomly opened here. They are interesting, aren’t they~?”

A sane person would be worried over how Metamorphy was casually playing around with dimensional rifts. Mad Paradox is not a sane person.

Mad Paradox, momentarily distracted from his despair by his anger, narrows his eyes as Metamorphy goes rummaging in one of the buildings and pops up again with a bizzare doll of straw.

No, that wasn’t straw. It looked more firm. Wood? Gum? An analysis confirmed it to be a material which had been bathed in different clashing energies.

“Punch this,” she says.

Mad Paradox stares blankly.

“Punch this,” she repeats and shakes the object in his face, her beaming smile particularly attracting the urge for one to punch her. “You were– bored, right? Well guess what~ It’s time for you to partake in new stuff~~”

“I’m not a barbarian like you,” Mad Paradox says loftily, scathingly.

“You are a noodle,” Metamorphy smiles blithely against his blistering glare. “C’mon, children need start early-”

“I’m not a fucking child, brat.”

“-to build themselves up into healthy young men. Now punch this, use your science stuff to help you with your punches, if you can’t do it-”

Here, she pauses. “If you think you’re too tired, then…” Her smile widens, “Why not take a break and try something different?”

Predictably, Mad Paradox takes none of her shit.

Also predictably, Metamorphy takes none of HIS shit.

(Metamorphy is probably one of the worst possible matches for him. The line between timelines and dimension is so thin, really.)

Both of them are stubborn, bull-headed people (monsters), but Mad Paradox is a tired and broken creature, and Metamorphy’s determination drives her to further heights. It doesn’t take long for Mad Paradox to give in and bend his rage on that poor, unliving thing.

“Are. You. Satisfied?”

“Nope.” Metamorphy tsk’s as the wormholes between time shears apart the training dummy (which had been glorified as Number One). “I said punch it. With your fists. Not… THAT.”

Sadly enough, no matter the terror that he inflicted as Mad Paradox, he had never quite gotten over the fragility of his physical state, and his body being reduced to half-constructed shards had only worsened that.

It’s manageable, since he has always had his powers. But Metamorphy is one of the few people who can counter him. She cannot shut him down, nor really suppress him (likewise to her, to his consternation) but she proves an annoyance and hinders him, like a fly.

(A fly he can neither crush nor bat away,)

So, Mad Paradox turns to the science and technology that he hasn’t touched in a long time.

(Nostalgia. Rememberance. Awareness. Has it really been such a long time since he started?)

It feels alien, with the difficulty of someone who hasn’t practiced in a long time. He had thought he had given up on his Nasod Research when he finally grasped the coordinates of timetravel, but somehow…. somehow looking at all the machines dumped at his feet by Metamorphy, looking at the codes that appear in his mind’s eye…

Something… stirs, inside him.

(Not yet. It’s not strong enough. Try again.)

He builds again. He constructs. And soon enough, the beginning prototypes of what will become the Nasod Armour are tested against the dummies (and Metamorphy herself, because Mad Paradox is a bitter son of a bitch).

He doesn’t particularly enjoy the activities forced upon him at first (but anything else than that empty madness is better), but soon, he can see why Metamorphy has taken a close approach to combat with her magic.

The crunch of Not-wood beneath the pressure of his technology, the way he watches it break, the way his prototype improves day by day, at an insane speed that is forged on by his obsession for perfection.

(It’s bizzare. It’s weird. It doesn’t eat at him, it doesn’t take pieces of him and swallow them whole. It’s… steady. Safe. Humane, almost.)

(Soon enough, Mad Paradox is not satisfied with just humane.)

But what cements his acceptance of this “hobby” of his is when the demons start arriving in this world, when the Henir cult starts stirring chaos, and very familiar people arrive in search of Metamorphy.

The fallen Prince. The Nasod Queen. The Brat #1.

For all he occasionally calls Metamorphy a brat, Elsword Sieghart has forever merited the main title of Brat in his head.

(The rips are opening in frequency. Dark El. Henir worshippers. Elrianode’s awakening. The chaos wrought by the rifts between Elios and the Demon Realm.)

(Are you coming with us, Add? The Brat asks, easy going smile plastered on his face. There’s no judgement in his eyes. There’s something in there, though, that makes Mad Paradox’s spine shiver and oh, oh, he now remembers why he left so hurriedly then.)

(He agrees.)

(He’s not doing it for anyone. He needs samples. Experiments. Living bodies.)

Attacking a breathing, comparatively alive creature is different from hitting the objects of Metamorphy’s stash. It’s significantly harder, but- but…!

It’s addicting.

Isn’t it curious how armour and crystal gives away to soft flesh under his attacks? Isn’t it fascinating? Isn’t it amazing?

He starts with the weaker test subjects, he starts improving his Armour, and starts relying less on his power of time travels (variables were unacceptable in his science).

Watching destruction bloom underneath his fists and lives disappear with just a mere CRACK! is different.

Mad Paradox learns. Mad Paradox improves. Mad Paradox starts to live.

And soon enough, the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox becomes known by another name, in this timeline that had given birth to him.

Doom Bringer, is what they will call him.

(He’s still broken. His body is still half shattered. And the mark of the Mad Paradox will never, ever disappear.

But this… this is acceptable.)

Ever since he was a child, long before he became a slave, Add had always been particularly thirsty for knowledge.

That thirst for knowledge had become buried underneath the obsession for a past long passed, had been pushed aside in favour of unleashing destruction underneath the prompting of the Dimensional witch. That thirst wasn’t a thirst so much as a want for perfection, for control, for a way to defy fate in a way his battered, physically weak body had not been able too.

He is not weak anymore, but he hasn’t succeeded yet.

After the war with the Demon Real calms down (heavy casualties and destruction and a war-torn Elrios left in the aftermath), Mad Paradox Doom Bringer is faced again with the obsession that had plagued his entire life, with no insects or experimental subjects to take the brunt of his rage and madness.

The war is over. The demons have retreated. The El’s barrier is up and again.

However, after years of fighting in a timeline with the technology he had seemingly surpassed as Mad Paradox, he has been forced to reconsider the role of Nasod Technology in his goal.

The perfect Nasod Armour thrums within him, filling the cracks where organs and limbs are missing in an array of complicated codes that holds his body together.

Maybe, he thinks, he has been going about it the wrong way.

Nasod Technology (and physical combat, but he was loathe to admit that to Metamorphy’s smug face) had helped him in various ways. It had solved most of his problems.

Maybe, just maybe, it could also take him–

(Because Doom Bringer is Mad Paradox and Mad Paradox’s obsession is the past and not even death will change that.)

Doom Bringer, with no war to fight and no enemy worth enough to stand against his bloodthirst and full-on lunacy, throws himself fully into Nasod Research, like he had so long ago, in a blurry time when he had been a child who fell in the prison of the Ancient Library.

A result of such research is further improvement upon his Dynamos, which haven’t been used to shatter timelines in a long while. The new Dynamos are comparatively tame, less prone to death, but deadly all the same. They are configurated according to his whims and necessities.

An example is their individual fighting capabilities. Immersed and busy with his research, fighting has lost its catharsis to him and while he still thrives in the pleasure of crushing his enemies physically, he is far more conserned with research, thus he has no time to deal with small fry.

He eventually creates Apocalypse for this same purpose, but that is further into the future.

With his powers of timeline (defective, failure, dissatisfying), he bids (a very rude and violent) farewell to his original timeline and starts to gather knowledge everywhere in an attempt to craft a correct path.

It’s improvement, he is pushing forward and it’s- it’s better. It’s working.

And of course, it fails.

(But of course, fate seemed to not want him to return to Mother no matter what.)

If there’s a terrible effect caused by his immersion into THIS, then it’s probably the state of his mind. Without madness, grief, hatred and rage clouding his mind, he realizes too late (again, again, again) of a miscalculation in his research.

It’s fatal enough that it promptly destroys all the other calculations.

He snaps.

It’s been a long time since any timeline has crumbled underneath his madness. When he comes to himself, his insides are lurching as the Nasod Armour tries to keep up with his body’s destruction.

Looking at the remains of a destroyed timeline, he can only feel numbness spreading through his entire being, a familiar madness and bitterness taking a hold of his mind as his Dynamo and Apocalypse rampage and destroy the physical representation of his failure.

However.

He recalls something.

(”Why not take a break and try something different?”)

He blinks slowly, as the memory of the witch flows through his head.

Try something different?

Becoming Mad Paradox had given birth to obsession and endless time paradoxes.

Becoming Doom Bringer had smothered it with lunacy and bloodlust and war.

What could he do, this version of him that wasn’t consumed by neither madness or bloodlust?

His Dynamo and Apocalypse stop without him saying a word, and fly to his side as he stares out at the endless abyss that surrounds him.

Slowly, but surely, life starts coming back into his expression. (It might have not been a necessarily good thing, all things considered, but who cared?)

His shoulder start shaking, trembling.

Then, he starts laughing.

“Kuhuhu… I get it… I get it now…!”

In the end, where did the error started and where did it end? Was it when he became a slave? When Aster started his experiments? When he became Diabolic Esper? When he put aside his obsession to rampage through a wartorn field of corpses of demons?

Perhaps the error lies in his obsession itself.

He is tired and done. No matter what he does, he is never able to travel back to that happy timeline. No one can understand time paradoxes better than he, and with a mind that isn’t completely fogged over with madness and possessing knowledge wrought by his research, he has no choice but to admit it, admit that he can never return, admit that his happy timeline has forever ceased to exist for him.

In that case…

In that case, wouldn’t it be better to create a whole new world himself?

His own perfect little universe, crafted from his own hands.

“Kuhuhu…I won’t give up… I will create my own world of perfection…!!”

Doom Bringer Dominator covers his face in an effort to stifle his not-quite-sane laughter, but there is no mistaking the wide grin spreading across his face.

Mod Niki: It took me hours to write this I’m Dead.

#els imagines #mod niki #elsword #add #Mad paradox #doombringer #dominator #aisha #metamorphy #immortal #elboi #gen #time travel #AU #plot bunny #my back hurts #my neck hurts #*endless scream*

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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In which Hussie says to hell with it and talks about all her slash WiPs even though she has no idea when they will be posted.

I love Olivarry and Coldflash. But my problem with reading those fics are that I miss Iris like a limb if she's not also part of Barry.

I felt the same way before I ever shipped Westallen, and I didn't even ship them for the longest time. Nor was I particularly interested in Iris as a character until sometime mid-way S3.

(It was when she burst into frightened tears in 3x9. Something in me immediately went PROTECC and it hasn't turned off since.)

I think it was more the sheer intensity of Barry's love for her that fascinated me. Not that a man fixating on a woman and obsessively pinning all his happiness on her is new or healthy phenomenon, but it was also deeper than that, character-wise. His love for her is so tied up in his self-definition, and the myriad ways their childhood bond helped mould their adult selves.

(And the fact that no matter how this love can change in nature, he will never be immune to appreciating her beauty and sexuality as a woman, which is so important to me as a slash fan and WoC. Seeing women be desexualized unless they're active romantic interests makes me want to scream. You can find people attractive af without wanting to bang them! It doesnt make you any less close! Not all close m/f relationships have to be sibling-like! Aargh!)

Regardless of how it came about, I need Iris to have that importance in Barry's life no matter who (else?) he's in love with. Which is why I started writing slash myself. It's a relief to me to know that she's there in every story I write, like a personal touchstone if nothing else. There you are my darling, you aren't forgotten.

Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU - Barry's love for Iris and the pain of her rejection is the springboard of the series. His struggle to reconcile with her over the years drives his character trajectory as much his love for Len and Oliver does. And there is so much she sees and evolves and goes through herself that the stupid boy cannot see until the very end, caught up in his own pain as he is.

The Assistant Verse - Barry and Iris are queerplatonic partners in a poly sexual relationship. Iris is the one who dolls up her boy in lipstick and booty shorts and sends him into Len's path in Paint It Red. Many years later, in Every Kind of Love, she descends wrathfully on Oliver from half a world away for doing her darling wrong, bringing her own broken heart for Barry to nurse.

This is one of the most wholesome Westallen relationships I have ever written, even though I'm pretty sure it will generate the least interest.

For The Good of the Realm - in the first draft Iris was Barry's first love and heartbreak pulled apart by politics, but in the second revision they're again queerplatonic partners and childhood best friends who call each other "soulmates". They had hoped to be married to each other and be kept safe from political matches. But then Barry becomes betrothed to High King Oliver and must be sent to Starling Court as the reluctant new Prince Consort, while Iris sets out on her mission to emancipate the tribes of the Middle Kingdom. They gift each other two halves of a magical "heartstone", a conduit of emotional resonance that connects two people across leagues of distance. In the fear, alienation and intrigue of the Starling Court, its Iris's love and safety that Barry holds onto, even while he falls in love with his husband.

Call Me By Your Name - Barry and Iris go to Greece in the summer before college, each hoping it will lead to a resolution to the magnetic push and pull they've been feeling for years. But when Barry meets and falls in love with Oliver and realizes he's gay, he is devastated at both breaking Iris's heart and not being in love with her. Because he really wants to be; she's always been his home and the future he's envisioned - to lose that terrifies him. It's a story about Barry and Oliver's sexual and romantic awakening, but also about how Barry and Iris manage to break down their own expectations of what it means to love one another forever and build something much truer and real.

A Stitch in Time is solidly Queenwestallen now. I was going to have Iris evolve into an undefined queerplatonic partner for Barry and Oliver but that ship is long gone.

For Love Or Money - Barry and Iris were childhood sweethearts and married young, Barry's tech startup and her career both took off. By their mid-twenties they should be the couple that has it all.

Except for Iris finally realizing she's ace and sex-repulsed. This is a terrible shock to both of them and not a small blow to Barry's self-esteem because she's the only woman he's ever been with. But they decide they're too in love to divorce and Iris tentatively suggests that Barry takes the opportunity to explore his interest in men, leading him to engage Oliver's services as an escort. Iris has to discover for herself what it means to be an asexual woman but Barry falling in love with Oliver is an issue they both have to deal with as a couple. Meanwhile Oliver has to reconcile the fact that not only is he falling for a client but one who is very much in love with his wife.

Mercury Rising - my Earth-13 Coldflash mob boss AU and oh is Iris ever there! This is my most delicious iteration of her - not as Barry's support but as his combatant, his antagonist and the eternal thorn in his side. Her unwitting role in Barry's betrayal that drives him to criminality, her bull-headed faith in the goodness of his character even in the face of his escalating violence, calling him to account every step of the way till he does the one thing she cannot forgive. The resulting single-minded determination to take her former best friend down without compromising her own moral code even as the undeniable magnetism between the two of them wreak havoc with their lives, and final realization that even after everything she can never give up on Barry Allen. Hate is truly just love with its back turned and what makes them tear each other to pieces even as it brings out their noblest and most human instincts.

Queen of Starling - On Earth 42, Beatrice Allen is adopted by Harrison Wells when her parents are murdered and taken away to Starling City - but even distance can't make her less in love with the best friend she left behind.

Here's the kicker of this story - Iris dies. Her death bisects Beatrice's story in two - the halycon days of her girlhood and the shattered trauma of the next fifteen years where she has to collect the pieces of herself out of her lover's grave to rebuild herself into the mother her children need, the superhero the world needs and to let herself love again.

The Awakening - Curse specialist Iris West and alchemist/ lore master Barry Allen are part of the Men of Letters team that go into a old cursed and haunted mansion to retrieve the Book Of The Dead, last known to have been in the hands of disgraced former Man of Letters and necromancer Eobard Thawne. The team is led by their chapter's chairman Harrison Wells, but the expedition is funded by eccentric millionaire and hunter Oliver Queen.

The blue-collar hunters and elitist Men of Letters don't trust Oliver, being seen as a mere hobbyist or thrill-seeker in the absence of any real tragedy or family legacy to put him on his path. But Iris distrusts him because she's the only one who can see his clear attraction to her best friend and childhood sweetheart Barry. Iris has spent her life as Barry's protector, himself being something of a pariah in the community due to his rumoured supernatural parentage and open empathy for the spirits and monsters they hunt. It's Iris that sees the way the house draws in both Barry and Oliver and the patterns of the hauntings that occur around them, she's the one who is as terrified for Barry's safety as Oliver as the house sucks them deeper into the tragedy of its past and she's the one that finally deduces how the malevolence of the house works and what it wants.

From Dusk Till Dawn - I think this is the story that has Iris in it the least. Eobard kidnaps Barry at age fifteen and subjects him to an experiment that backfires badly, leaving him dead and Barry with only a fraction of powers he was destined to have and no connection to the Speed Force. ARGUS immediately finds him and forces him to manufacture a rift with the Wests so they can claim him without suspicion, mould him into one of their operatives and train him to hunt the other metahumans Eobard created.

This is an Olivarry story where Barry rediscovers hope and love through his secret protection of Oliver. But its the memory of Iris's love and the happiness of their childhood that keeps him tethered to his humanity through the next eight years, it is her that he goes to the night before what he believes will be his final sacrifice ("You have always been the best part of me. Keep that part of me inside your heart and I can never die. Keep me and don't let me go, Iris"), it is her, after everything, that leads him home, and it is her that seeks out Oliver and asks him to help Barry heal.

This is not including my Coldwestallen fics The Scarlet Rose (Snow Queen/ Beauty and the Beast fusion) and The Adventures of Snart The Cat (Bastet turns Len into a cat and charges him with protecting Barry and Iris's unborn child).

So yes, I absolutely started writing slash because I missed Iris West. It's not just her though. None of the ladies are relegated to ship support. In the Polyam AU Lisa Snart specifically rips into Barry for ignoring her emotional needs as a friend while on the outs with Len, Oliver's fixation with Barry in Stitch in Time and resulting neglect of his friendship with Laurel has serious repercussions, Caitlin couldn't give less of a damn about Barry's romantic exploits in her incarnations as Killer Frost. Even in For The Good of the Realm where he's her foster brother and charge, Caitlin is more wrapped up in manoeuvring him away from court intrigue, legitimizing her own presence at his side and being a ball of identity issues. And I absolutely love my dark!Felicity AUs where she is outright antagonistic and disapproving of Barry's love interests and sometimes of Barry himself. In the Olivarry stories where she is supportive and sympathetic, Felicity and Oliver themselves still acknowledge their own romantic potential. Which means Barry and Oliver falling in love creates tension between the three of them, and the men have to learn how not to hurt her or take her support for granted while they figure themselves out.

The relationships between men and women in every flavour and intensity makes stories so much richer and deeper and three dimensional. I am done being conditioned as a woman to erase ourselves when we inhabit the bodies and stories of m|m men.

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hibiki-the-beast-archived · 6 years

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All of the questions, since you seem a little needy today

A kind anon showed some mercy with me. No one can resist my cocky smile, right?

When was the last time you masturbated?I barely masturbate. But yesterday I did, after I dreamed of ravaging a cute prey and woke up completely ruttish. Who knows, maybe it was not even a dream?

Do you enjoy being fingered/fingering?I enjoy the former over the latter, but in the end I would do both.

How do you feel about food during sex?'Food' like blood? Very appreciated. Other kind of food doesn't need to be involved.

What do you do directly after sex?Smoking, eating my partner out or just staying on top of them. When the submissive part is mine I might mainly focus on getting back to reality - hopefully with the help of the dominant. Yes, I even enjoy to cuddle afterwards, but I suppose this was another question.

Cuddle with the tip in?Torture for me as a sub, torture for me as a dominant. If the next round should not take place within the next two minutes I prefer to pull out.

What’s the nastiest sexual thing you’ve done?Many of my naughty fantasies are not fulfilled yet. Knifeplay was an earth-shattering experience for sure, same for wearing a chastity cage and having a ruined orgasm thanks to it. We better don't talk about my crimes here.

Name a follower you would fuck.Really? This is embarrassing...and hard to choose actually. But if I had to pick someone it probably would be @the-devils-proof telling by mere appearance.

Name a follower you have fucked.@aki-in-tokyo Come on, just admit we are a match made in heaven...or rather hell.

What’s the sexiest part of your body?I suppose it is my tongue, but it only becomes sexy since I know how to use it right.

FuckMarryKill: DJ Khalid, Rick Ross, Fat JoeI actually googled them. I am in killing rappers, and they all look like being into this kind of music.

Would you ever be with a trans person?I never thought about it, but in theory I would not have a problem with it.

Riding dick or doggy style?Riding is definitely more exciting.

Ever fucked in a school?No.

Most random place you’ve had sex?On a playground. No, not with an underage, I might be disgusting but this would be even too much for me.

Would you ever be part of the mile high club?No?

Name three of your spots.Neck, hips, feet

Fuck on the first date?Very likely to happen.

Do you suck dick?With pleasure.

Do you eat ass?Sure.

Do you eat pussy?I might not be that much into women, but in fact this is one of my favorites.

Do you like kissing?I liked to kiss only one or two persons so far. However I could refrain from it.

Is farting during sex sexy?No.

Ever fucked in the shower?Kind of.

How old were you when you lost your virginity?I don't have memories left of the time before my transformation. My actual virginity I lost only a year ago anyway during a night that turned my whole world upside down.

Do you prefer sex in the morning, afternoon, or night?The night is my time and the one I am most likely to be in heat, so I prefer it for this kind of activity, too.

Do you like drunk sex?I am horrible drunk, but I definitely would like to get taken advantage of while being half unconscious.

Do you like high sex?Never had it. The only drug I would consume is weed anyway.

FuckMarryKill: Nicki Minaj; Cardi B; Kash DollI am not interested in doing anything to those persons.

When was your first kiss?The kiss of eternity? I think around 175 years ago. Any other kiss does not matter much, besides of the kisses I shared lately with a very special someone.

How did you meet the person you lost your virginity to?Referring to my actual virginity again; he approached me via tumblr. He provoked me. He threatened me to teach me manner with an electric collar. I paid him a visit and made clear that I did not take it as a joke.

Have you ever faked an orgasm?How is this supposed to work for a male? Spitting on their back?

Ever painted/been painted on?No, but sounds like an interesting idea.

You like sex toys?Not that much. A little more when I can use them in someone else's company.

What’s your favorite sex position?Missionary or standing.

Sex on a bed, couch, or floor?Bed is rare since I don't let anyone into my bed. Couch is too small for going crazy. It is likely I would do it on the floor.

Do you like car sex?Never had it, I think a car is a little small though for raging yourself out.

You get instantly horny; what happened?I probably got humiliated verbally.

FuckMarryKill: Trey Songz, Chris Brown, August Alsina.Not interested in this kind of game anymore.

Describe your crush.I don't know who I should consider my crush (there is someone, but putting things into categories is something I refrain from doing mostly). The men I feel attracted to are mainly tall, tattooed and more or less muscular - and have a weak spot for violence.

Woukd you ever be with someone with an incurable STD?Depends on when I learn about this. When I am already on fire I probably would not say no to them anymore.

Rate your head game.Is this supposed to mean oral? I did not give much oral so far, but when you add passion, my swift tongue and my willingness to deep throat I would give me an 8 out of 10 probably.

Rate your sex.As dominant: 7/10; as submissive: 5/10...but how should I know?

Would you fuck someone outside of your race?So a werewolf? I would. Or a western man? I would. Especially because they are so tall. I have a certain weakness for this idea.

Describe the type of freak you are.'Freaks' was the name for the fans of my former band...however you could say I am all kinds of freak. I am a violence and fight freak, mainly. If my partner does not struggle or complain I have to suppose they are already dead, and corpses do not stir me up.

Ever tasted your own nut/cum?Yes.

Into golden showers?Mh...rather into omorashi.

Body count: Under or Over 25?I don't know what my body count is. But I am not as thin as many Japanese men.

How do you feel about nipple play?As an addition to other things, yes, of course.

Where do you like to be nutted on?In fact my face. A wonderfully degrading gesture.

Which are you better at: topping or bottoming?Topping. I may be a hungry and tough bottom who endures everything, but if I am the actor and not only the reactor I am probably more fun. Assumed you never wanted to see someone's eyes water because of submissive pleasure...

What do you consider “too small?”Anything less than ten centimeters probably, as erected blood penis.

Is play fighting foreplay?I could not imagine a better foreplay.

Do you like angry sex?Yes. This is the nonpareil.

How long should a quickie be?Not much longer than ten minutes.

How long is “too long” to have sex?A session can last a whole day even, or longer, so there is nothing that is too long.

How long is “too long” to go without sex?When you feel ruttish even an hour spent without sex can be too much.

Is “no” relevant in a relationship?I think so. But the aim for me is to never need to say no to anything the dominant demands.

Do you believe in no-strings-attached sex?Of course.

Would you have sex in a public bathroom?Sure.

Would you have sex in a changing room?Sure.

Who was the last person you had sex with?Again something embarrassing. There are three people I had sex with during the last months, but I will not name them here.

Describe your type.Already done so earlier: Tall, tattooed, maybe pierced (because I react strongly to being in touch with metal and silver) and not afraid to take off their kid gloves to touch me. Or at least into the finger things in life, means: Violence, blood, fucking with morals.

Name 3 turn-ons.Forced feminization, getting tied up (preferably in humiliating ways), anything pet play related.

Name 3 turn-offs.Doctor-patient-roleplay, anything feces related, feeding (as in making someone grow fat).

Name something that would make you stop in the middle of sex.My partner triggering my submission in any way while I am dominant.

Would you answer a phone call during sex?No.

Would you ever pay for sex?No.

Would you accept money for sex?When it is part of a roleplay, then yes.

How do you typically feel after sex?Either very exhausted and vulnerable but proud of myself for being strong and good, or just exhausted and satisfied.

Do you like your body?Yes.

Ever sent nudes?No. I would do though if someone was interested.

Have you ever cheated on someone?Kind of.

Have you ever been cheated on?Not that I knew and not as if it was possible.

Would you have a threesome?Yes, maybe.

Would you have a foursome?Maybe.

Would you take part in an orgy?Maybe.

Would you let’s train be ran on you?If it is the thing I think it is then definitely yes.

How often do you masturbate?Not often. It is not my thing and does not give me much satisfaction. Maybe once a month.

Sex with the lights on or off?On.

Sex with music or tv in the background?Music, yes, if it is fitting. TV, yes as well, if my partner pretends the movie is more interesting than me while I please them.

Do you have a cousin you’d fuck if you weren’t related?No.

In your last relationships, rate the sex?I don't want to.

Do you sleep naked?Yes.

How often do you go commando?Happens, in summer I prefer it so I do it regularly.

Are your nipples pierced? If not, would you get them pierced?No and no. I doubt it would fit me.

Do you dive right into sex, or converse first?Both can be exciting, depending on the partner, but an animated conversation can be very erotic and get me in the mood.

After taking your clothes off, what’s the first move?Who says the fun begins after taking the clothes off? And who says I have a standard program for sexual situations?

Do you make the first move?I mostly have to, but I prefer it the other way round, especially because I have a hard time approaching handsome and intimidating looking men (well, approaching in general is harder for me than you might think).

Have you ever had sex with more than one person in a day?Can't remember, but I doubt it.

Do you like dryhumping ?Yes.

Can you twerk or do a split on a dick?No...

Have you ever been recorded during sex?No, but my exhibitionistic vein would highly appreciate it.

Do you watch porn during sex?No, porn is not my cup of tea in general, but same for watching TV during sex when it comes to my partner.

After fucking, do you try becoming friends with a one night stand?Usually not.

What’s your kink?I have many...but being a pet is my favorite one because it is all natural for me.

Would you hook up with the same hook-up again?If it was good, why not?

Ever made a relationship from a one night stand?No.

How romantic are you during sex?Oh. Not at all.

Describe your sex in 5 words or less.Feral, physically and mentally intense

Now I am quite exhausted, I hope you felt entertained...and grant me a little reward?

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xparrot · 7 years

Text

today in fanning

(crossposted from dreamwidth)

So we recently watched the FOX show Lucifer. And now I want there to be more of a fandom for it, because it tickles me in just that fannish way. In some ways it's a hard sell because it's not exactly a good show; it's tropey and cliche and even at its best, it's a cautiously shallow dive into some deep waters. Though based on the Lucifer of Gaiman's The Sandman and other DC comics, those horror/philosophy stories are a very loose antecedent; the show is a lightweight police procedural -- albeit with supernatural elements, but those arcs are usually the B-plot to the murder of the week. It follows that established genre of the main het pair of a by-the-books (usually female) cop teamed up with a wacky (usually male) "civilian consultant" with a mysteriously vital skillset, and plays it straight, UST and all. The civilian consultant in this case is the fallen angel Lucifer, recently retired from Hell and looking for entertainment and purpose on Earth by helping solve crimes. He owns a night club and goes to therapy (one of my favorite parts of the show, poor Dr. Linda) and hides his divine nature under the most impenetrable cover, which is that he tells anyone who asks that his legal name is Lucifer Morningstar, you know, Satan, and the reason that identity only goes back five years is because that's when he came up from Hell, which he used to rule, because he is in fact the Devil, and also he would appreciate it if people would stop blaming him for all their sins. And yes, those scars on his back are from when he cut off his wings. And no, he is not a method actor. Really. The procedural cases are run of the mill and the angelic mythology isn't anything too original -- but it's developed nicely, and the cast is beautiful and has fabulous chemistry. It's one of those shows that just feels like everyone has fun making it together. I don't have any OTPs in particular, but most combos of the characters are entertaining. I lowkey ship pretty much any relationship that isn't blood-family (and those platonic relationships I naturally adore). And Lucifer himself is pure fannish catnip for a certain type of fan, that is, if you have a thing for the devil-may-care lunatics and wildly inappropriate hedonists with darker backstories who secretly care more deeply than they ever should, and are slowly realizing they want and want to be more, and occasionally shatter into a glorious mess of angst...yeah, he pushes my buttons hard. The star Tom Ellis does a great job with the part; he deftly walks the line between obnoxious and charming, projecting confidence, glee, and menace without losing comedic lightness. He is supposed to be supernaturally attractive and he sells it well -- he's not the hottest guy on TV (which isn't to say he's any trouble to look at, and the directors -- many women among them -- know how to shoot those dark eyes and fitted suits to excellent advantage) but he carries himself like he knows he's irresistible, which is what counts. And he is so very good at maniacally smirking at people like he's about three seconds away from either going down on them or going for their throat. He's also great at being completely emotionally devastated. I can point to the exact scene I really fell for the character and with him the show; it's partway through second season and I would be embarrassed by how cliche a fangirl I am, except that unabashed fanning like this is really just fun. The Lucifer show is such a marvelously old-school fan experience for me, a so-so but cute show with a fun cast and a few shining moments of fannish delight. (It's old-school in less fortunate ways as well -- especially first season is problematic, with obvious and oblivious racism, sexism, consent issues, etc. That improves, but other issues remain. Throughout the show it all but ignores other faiths -- like Supernatural, it's not exactly Christian in that Christianity or Christ is never name-checked; but Christian mythology is all that's explored (I actually prefer no mention to badly handled dismissal or appropriation, but ymmv.) Like most procedurals, it tends to tilt more conservative than I'm really comfortable with, in the politics of crime and also socially -- like, Lucifer is canonically bi/pansexual, but we see him with way more women than men, while the demoness Mazikeen we also see being sexy with more women than men.) The first season is on the slow side -- actually it feels bizarrely old-fashioned; without contextual clues I swear I'd have mistaken it for late-90s TV, down to how it's shot. The second season is when the show hits its stride -- not only does it have a stronger story arc, but it expands the cast (including adding the gorgeous and hilarious Tricia Helfer; with her and another, the main cast is more female than male) and develops all the character relationships, mixing and matching in unexpected ways and giving everyone a chance to shine, such that a lot of chars who start out annoying end up becoming awesome. Maze especially is by-the-numbers seductive torturer in season 1; in season 2 she starts making friends and the actress gets a chance to show her range, particularly her comic side. Also Dan, who starts out as the stereotypical 'douchey cop still hung up on his ex-wife' but moves into a more solid supportive friendship with Chloe (exes who have genuinely moved on romantically but are still friends/family is so one of my kinks) -- and also ends up in ridiculous situations with Lucifer, which I suspect is because the actors play off each other so well they started writing to it. The third season (which the show is finishing up now) has been extremely erratic; the plot arc isn't as directed as 2nd season's, and the characters are regressed somewhat. But it's had some good stuff, too, enough that I'm hoping it gets renewed. And meanwhile I'm looking for fic, which is pretty slim pickings -- it's a mid-sized fandom, but the focus is nearly all on the main het pairing of Lucifer and his detective partner Chloe, and while I don't mind the ship, it's one of the less interesting aspects of the show to me. As is my wont, I mostly want gen team-Lucifer stories. (That or Lucifer/Dan stories, because it would be too funny. There needs to be an episode that Lucifer and Dan wake up naked in bed and handcuffed together and have to solve a murder together by figuring out what happened to them, which might be easier if Lucifer would stop suggesting that they should have sex (again?) to see if it sparks any memories...)

#my post #lucifer #squee #brought this over from my dw/lj #for a proper tumblr post I know it should have gifs #but I'm old school!#also haven't gone to the Lucifer tag and no one I know posts about this show at all #it must have a tumblr fandom somewhere #should go looking

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notagarroter · 7 years

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dear notagarroter :) I read your tag about “that line is like the crux of the whole film... and book” and it really interests me why, for you, it is? as for me (and only for the book, haven't seen the film) this line didn't stand out. it rather struck me as just sentiment? elio wants to be near feet, fingers, ankles, knees, all things that never get old :P. and the pull was something “larger than soul, body, earth itself.” care to elaborate? please do ignore me if not and have a lovely day :)

This ask is in reference to my tags on this quotation:

You know what’s weird? My favorite moment in my film is one I shouldn’t be able to relate to: when Michael Stuhlbarg, who plays my father, says, “As for our bodies, there comes a time when no one wants to come near them.” That moment shatters me.

Okay so... first of all, I'mnot saying my experience of the story is "correct" or the "onetrue way" or anything. CMBYN isa complex, layered work of fiction and is open to many different readings andinterpretations. If you want to read itas a straightforward soulmate love story, that's more than fine.

For me, the story is also about the phases of life of asame-sex-attracted man. In this reading,each of the male characters represents a stage of life. Elio is the adolescent just discovering hispotential for same-sex attraction. Thebrashness of youth gives him the boldness to seek out what he wants. Oliver, alittle older, is in the full bloom of manhood. He's the object of everyone's desire, but he also has more awareness ofthe risks that come with acting on your attractions. Prof. Perlman has settled into middle age: heis happy and successful in the path he followed, but he also has regrets. He looks at Elio and Oliver and recognizesthat while he still feels that kind of desire, it's too late for him to have itreciprocated -- no one will ever again look at his body the way Elio looks at Oliver's. This is what he tells us in his speech: hehad his chance when he was young and good-looking, but he was too shy or scaredto take it, and he'll never get that chance again.

And then there's Anchise – the old man, whom Elio can only view as"creepy". Oliver views Anchisewith more compassion, as a "lost soul", but neither of them imaginesfor a moment that Anchise is a sexual being with his own active desires. Prof. Perlman is the most sympathetic toAnchise, because he sees his own future in him – as an object of fear,derision, or pity, but never of lust.

I'm not saying any of this is *true* -- that no man over fifty everfinds love or sexual satisfaction with another man. Obviously that is not the case. But a lot of people do feel that way, and Ithink that's what Prof. Perlman is talking about in his final speech. He feels that, as a middle-aged man, the onlyplace left for him in the sexual economy is to watch over his son's affair,providing guidance and support. Soon, hewon't be allowed even that privilege, as he becomes "creepy" in theeyes of the young.

As to why this would be the crux of the whole story... Normally I prefer to take a text on its ownand not speculate too much on the author. But in this case, I can't help but be aware of the fact that Aciman,while writing the story, was closest in age to Prof. Perlman. I know very little about Aciman's real life,but I can easily imagine that Perlman is at least to some extent speaking forAciman. The meta-statement of Perlman'sspeech may be that, for a middle-aged man, this kind of sexual adventure canonly happen in the realm of fantasy. Andthat's exactly what Call Me By Your Name is, in a literal sense – a middle agedman's fantasy of the love affair between two young, beautiful men. So while on a surface level, it would seemlike the crux of the story should be some event between the protagonists, Elioand Oliver, I think in a larger sense, the story is really about middle agelooking back on youth. And that's whythat particular line is so crucial to the whole narrative.

I hope that answers your question...

#cmbyn #cmbyn meta #call me by your name #gay death #ennisgarlaend

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redkiteradio · 5 years

Text

7 Trends You May Have Missed About fireinsidemusic

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote greater than a decade in the past, the woman who came being regarded only because the piano Instructor available what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her own long run.

Im relocating away currently to a spot so distant, in which no person is aware my identify, she wrote while in the lyrics of a tune referred to as Relocating.

When she wrote that tune, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance audio writer who loved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, extensive walks and every thing about New York.

On a type of beloved walks, by Central Park in the intense sun of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. After the attack, the terms to her music arrived real. She moved away, away from New York City, from her previous life, and all but her closest mates didn't know her title. To the rest of the globe, she was — much like the a lot more well-known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 many years previously — an nameless image of the city nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, to the 10th anniversary of the attack, she's celebrating what appears to be her complete Restoration from brain trauma. She's 42, married, with a small child. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and he or she would like to tell her Tale, her way.

Her health care provider told her it could consider 10 years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my lifetime has actually been redefined by Central Park, she reported many days back, her voice tender and hopeful. Prior to park; just after park. Will there ever be considered a time when I dont Feel, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch home within a wooded subdivision in the Ny suburb. She sat inside a dining room strewn with toys, surrounded by photographs of her cherubic, dark-haired two-year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand crammed 50 % the home, and at one position she sat down and played. Her participating in was forceful, but she seemed embarrassed to Engage in quite a lot of bars, and shrugged, rather than answering, when asked the identify on the piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June four, 1996, the day After i was harm.

Hers was the 1st in the string of attacks by the same guy on 4 Gals above 8 times. The last target, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was beaten to Loss of life as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning store, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.

Still the assault within the piano teacher may be the just one individuals seem to recollect quite possibly the most. Section of the fascination needs to do with echoes of your 1989 attack around the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened people in a means the assault to the jogger did not because its instances had been so mundane.

It didn't take place in a very distant Element of the park late during the night, but in close proximity to a well known playground at 3 inside the afternoon. It might have transpired to anyone. The tension was heightened with the thriller on the piano academics identity.

For 3 days, as law enforcement and Medical professionals experimented with to find out who she was, she lay in a very coma in her clinic bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers had been on family vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. At last, one of her students recognized a police sketch and was capable of determine her in the clinic by her fingers, simply because her facial area was swollen over and above recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is giving a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Avenue, then putting her long hair in a ponytail and heading out to get a stroll. She does not remember the attack, While she has heard the accounts from the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a fact I learned and memorized, she stated. As though I were a college student in school learning record.

She would not think about The person who did it. I might need been angry for the minute, but not much longer than that, she claimed. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I assume by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical professional at The big apple Healthcare facility-Cornell Medical Center, as it was acknowledged in 1996, instructed reporters that she had a ten percent probability of survival. Health professionals experienced to eliminate her forehead bone, which was later changed, to help make place for her swelling brain. When her mother manufactured a community attract pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Right after 8 days, she came from a coma, very first inside a vegetative state, then inside of a childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept very little and talked continuously, often in gibberish. I was acquiring mad at individuals when they didnt reply to these phrases, she explained.

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she experienced minimal limited-time period memory and would ignore people as soon as they remaining the home.

Over a number of months, she needed to relearn how to stroll, gown, go through and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to play guitar for her. He encouraged her to Participate in the piano, versus the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could well be annoyed by her inability to play how she as soon as had. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, actively playing the remaining-hand component although she performed the right.

That was my best therapy, she explained.

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In August, she moved back again house to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited aged haunts and referred to as good friends, trying to revive her shattered memory. I used to be pretty obsessed with remembering, she mentioned. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists assumed her development was wonderful, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had missing the ability to cry, just as if a faucet inside of her Mind had been turned off. One particular evening, 9 months just after she was damage, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham Motion picture A Time and energy to Get rid of. Just right after her father had gone to mattress, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Adult men who experienced raped his youthful daughter.

The faucet opened, along with the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mothers and fathers, my father, and whatever they went by, she said. Very little by small, my sensation returned, my depth of thoughts returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to school and obtained a masters degree in songs education.

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Not everything went properly. She and Mr. Scherr break up up 5 years after the assault, while they remain good friends. She dated other Guys, but she generally advised them concerning the attack right away — she couldn't support it, she reported — and they by no means called for just a next day.

We have to discover you someone, her Pal David Phelps, a guitar player, explained 4 yrs back, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For as soon as, she didn't say nearly anything with regards to the assault until she bought to learn Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her power.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had normally visited her at her bedside when she was from the medical center, married them in his Occasions Square Business. She wore a blue dress and pearls. Though she was Expecting, within a burst of creative imagination, she and her good friends recorded Although Had been Young, an album of childrens tracks that she had prepared prior to the assault, such as the track Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, created the CD. On it, her spouse performs drums and she plays electrical piano.

Is her existence as it absolutely was? Not specifically, though she is reluctant to attribute the dissimilarities to her injuries. Her previous two piano learners remaining her, with no contacting to clarify why, she mentioned. She has resumed playing classical new music, but easy parts, mainly because her daughter isn't going to give her time for you to exercise. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she stated.

She would want to drive more, sensation stranded from the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She attempts to be content material with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgical procedure at what on earth is now referred to as New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Clinical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann once the assault, said last week that her level of recovery was unusual. Shes fundamentally normal, he stated.

Other gurus, who are not personally aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns circumstance, are more cautious.

Regaining a chance to Enjoy the piano may well entail an Pretty much mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers should do, claimed Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation drugs at Big apple College Faculty of Drugs. The moment Mind-injured, you will be always Mind-injured, for the rest of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay claimed. There is not any overcome, There's only intensive compensation.

The greater telling part of a Restoration, in his check out, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and youngster as an important victory.

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For her portion, the piano teacher appreciates she has modified, but she has manufactured her peace with it. I was type of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a kind A, but I had been ambitious, she states. Why was I so ambitious? I used to be a piano Instructor. I dont know what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the individual Im designed to be.

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emilyl-b · 5 years

Text

11 Ways to Completely Ruin Your fireinsidemusic

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote in excess of ten years ago, the woman who arrived to get known only as the piano teacher supplied what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her personal future.

Im relocating absent now to a place so distant, where no one appreciates my name, she wrote inside the lyrics of a song named Going.

When she wrote that tune, she was younger and vivacious, a piano teacher and freelance tunes writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, prolonged walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the bright sun of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. After the attack, the words to her track came correct. She moved away, from Ny city, away from her previous lifetime, and all but her closest mates did not know her identify. To the remainder of the earth, she was — such as far more famous jogger attacked in Central Park seven a long time before — an anonymous symbol of an city nightmare. She was the piano teacher.

Now, around the 10th anniversary of your assault, she's celebrating what appears to be her complete Restoration from brain trauma. She's forty two, married, with a small kid. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she hopes to tell her Tale, her way.

Her physician informed her it might choose ten years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I truly feel my lifestyle has long been redefined by Central Park, she stated various times ago, her voice comfortable and hopeful. Before park; after park. Will there ever be described as a time Once i dont Assume, Oh, This is actually the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch property inside of a wooded subdivision in a Ny suburb. She sat in a very dining space strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, darkish-haired two-12 months-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand crammed 50 % the area, and at a single issue she sat down and performed. Her taking part in was forceful, but she seemed humiliated to Perform more than a few bars, and shrugged, as an alternative to answering, when questioned the name in the piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was damage.

Hers was the first inside a string of assaults by the exact same man on 4 Ladies more than 8 days. The final target, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was overwhelmed to Loss of life as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in prison.

However the assault about the piano Instructor would be the one particular individuals seem to be to remember one of the most. A part of the fascination needs to do with echoes from the 1989 attack within the Central Park jogger. But it also frightened individuals in a method the attack to the jogger did not because its conditions had been so mundane.

It didn't occur inside a remote part of the park late in the evening, but near a well known playground at three within the afternoon. It might have occurred to everyone. The strain was heightened by the thriller in the piano academics id.

For three days, as law enforcement and doctors tried to learn who she was, she lay in a coma in her clinic bed, nameless. Her mom and dad were being on vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Lastly, certainly one of her learners identified a police sketch and was able to recognize her while in the medical center by her fingers, for the reason that her deal with was swollen beyond recognition. The police did not release her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then putting her lengthy hair inside a ponytail and likely out for a wander. She would not keep in mind the assault, Though she has read the accounts from the law enforcement and prosecutors.

To me its like a simple fact I discovered and memorized, she mentioned. As if I had been a pupil in class learning history.

She won't give thought to The person who did it. I might have been offended for a instant, but not for much longer than that, she stated. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I assume by our expectations he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health care provider at Ny Hospital-Cornell Health care Middle, as it was acknowledged in 1996, told reporters that she experienced a ten percent prospect of survival. Doctors had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards replaced, for making room for her swelling brain. When her mother built a community attract pray for my daughter, thousands did.

After 8 days, she came out of a coma, initially within a vegetative condition, then in a very childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept very little and talked continuously, in some cases in gibberish. I had been acquiring mad at folks if they didnt respond to these text, she stated.

youtube

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she had minor shorter-expression memory and would forget visitors when they remaining the room.

Around quite a few months, she had to relearn how you can walk, dress, go through and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Enjoy guitar for her. He encouraged her to Perform the piano, from the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could well be disappointed by her incapacity to Enjoy just how she after had. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets with her, taking part in the left-hand aspect though she performed the appropriate.

Which was my ideal therapy, she explained.

In August, she moved again household to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited old haunts and called buddies, hoping to revive her shattered memory. I used to be quite obsessive about remembering, she stated. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her development was marvelous, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had lost a chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her brain had been turned off. Just one evening, nine months right after she was damage, she stayed up late to watch the John Grisham Motion picture A The perfect time to Get rid of. Just following her father experienced long gone to mattress, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult men who experienced raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mom and dad, my father, and what they went by way of, she claimed. Minimal by small, my experience returned, my depth of head returned.

youtube

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to high school and acquired a masters degree in new music instruction.

Not every little thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years once the assault, however they continue to be mates. She dated other Adult men, but she usually informed them with regards to the attack immediately — she could not assist it, she claimed — plus they by no means called for the next date.

We've got to discover you an individual, her Close friend David Phelps, a guitar player, stated 4 several years back, in advance of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and beginner drummer. For as soon as, she did not say everything with regards to the attack until she acquired to be aware of Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her energy.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced often visited her at her bedside although she was within the medical center, married them in his Moments Sq. Office environment. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Although she was pregnant, in a very burst of creativeness, she and her friends recorded When Have been Younger, an album of childrens music that she experienced composed before the attack, such as the music Going. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her partner performs drums and she plays electric piano.

Is her everyday living as it absolutely was? Not accurately, however she is unwilling to attribute the dissimilarities to her injuries. Her last two piano college students remaining her, with out calling to elucidate why, she explained. She has resumed taking part in classical new music, but uncomplicated items, mainly because her daughter would not give her time and energy to apply. As for jazz, I dont even try out, she claimed.

She would want to generate a lot more, experience stranded from the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She attempts to be information with remaining residence and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a clinical professor of neurological surgical treatment at what exactly is now known as The big apple-Presbyterian Medical center/Weill Cornell Clinical Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the attack, said final week that her degree of Restoration was scarce. Shes essentially typical, he stated.

Other specialists, who are not Individually knowledgeable about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns circumstance, are more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Engage in the piano might entail an almost mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of exactly what the fingers ought to do, reported Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation medication at New York University School of Drugs. Once brain-hurt, you happen to be often brain-wounded, For the remainder of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay mentioned. There's no remedy, There's only intensive payment.

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The greater telling Component of a recovery, in his view, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and little one as a significant victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor is aware of she has adjusted, but she has designed her peace with it. I used to be type of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a Type A, but I was ambitious, she states. Why was I so ambitious? I was a piano Trainer. I dont know what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im supposed to be.

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homestuckcanonconfirmer · 5 years

Text

9 Things Your Parents Taught You About best keyboard for learning piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote much more than ten years in the past, the woman who arrived for being regarded only given that the piano teacher supplied what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her possess upcoming.

Im going absent now to a location so far-off, exactly where no person is familiar with my title, she wrote while in the lyrics of the track identified as Relocating.

When she wrote that tune, she was young and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance tunes author who loved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, prolonged walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, by Central Park in the brilliant Sunshine of the June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to life. Following the assault, the text to her music arrived genuine. She moved absent, out of New York City, from her previous life, and all but her closest pals did not know her identify. To the rest of the earth, she was -- much like the far more well-known jogger attacked in Central Park seven yrs previously -- an anonymous image of the city nightmare. She was the piano teacher.

Now, around the tenth anniversary on the attack, she's celebrating what appears to be her complete Restoration from Mind trauma. She is forty two, married, with a small child. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she wants to tell her Tale, her way.

Her health practitioner told her it might consider ten years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my daily life has become redefined by Central Park, she mentioned numerous days ago, her voice smooth and hopeful. In advance of park; immediately after park. Will there ever certainly be a time when I dont think, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch household within a wooded subdivision inside of a The big apple suburb. She sat inside a dining place strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, dark-haired two-yr-previous daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 % the area, and at 1 point she sat down and performed. Her participating in was forceful, but she appeared embarrassed to play more than a few bars, and shrugged, as an alternative to answering, when asked the title from the piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that day, June four, 1996, the working day After i was harm.

Hers was the main within a string of attacks by the same guy on 4 women over eight times. The final target, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was overwhelmed to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning shop, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in jail.

Still the attack within the piano Instructor is definitely the 1 people today seem to keep in mind one of the most. Component of the fascination needs to do with echoes from the 1989 attack to the Central Park jogger. But What's more, it frightened people today in a means the assault to the jogger did not because its instances ended up so mundane.

It didn't occur within a distant Section of the park late in the evening, but around a preferred playground at three in the afternoon. It might have took place to anyone. The strain was heightened from the mystery of your piano academics identification.

For 3 times, as police and Physicians tried out to find out who she was, she lay inside of a coma in her clinic mattress, nameless. Her mother and father ended up on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Finally, one among her pupils regarded a law enforcement sketch and was able to discover her during the hospital by her fingers, simply because her experience was swollen beyond recognition. The police didn't launch her identify.

youtube

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is supplying a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Road, then putting her very long hair in the ponytail and heading out for your wander. She isn't going to bear in mind the assault, Whilst she has listened to the accounts in the police and prosecutors.

To me its just like a truth I discovered and memorized, she stated. As if I were being a college student in class finding out heritage.

She isn't going to consider the man who did it. I might have been indignant to get a minute, although not for much longer than that, she mentioned. How could I be angry at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I assume by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at New York Hospital-Cornell Medical Heart, as it had been identified in 1996, informed reporters that she experienced a 10 % chance of survival. Health professionals had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, for making place for her swelling brain. When her mother created a community attract pray for my daughter, thousands did.

After eight times, she arrived out of a coma, first in a very vegetative point out, then in a childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept little and talked regularly, at times in gibberish. I was getting mad at individuals once they didnt reply to these words, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers patient, she experienced tiny limited-expression memory and would fail to remember site visitors the moment they still left the room.

Over many months, she had to relearn ways to stroll, gown, read through and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Enjoy guitar for her. He encouraged her to Enjoy the piano, towards the advice of her physical therapists, who imagined she might be discouraged by her incapacity to Participate in how she when had. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets together with her, actively playing the left-hand part even though she performed the correct.

That was my most effective therapy, she claimed.

In August, she moved back again residence to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She frequented outdated haunts and identified as friends, seeking to restore her shattered memory. I had been incredibly obsessed with remembering, she stated. Any memory decline was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was wonderful, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had misplaced a chance to cry, as if a faucet inside of her brain had been turned off. A person evening, nine months right after she was damage, she stayed up late to observe the John Grisham Motion picture A Time and energy to Get rid of. Just after her father experienced gone to bed, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who had raped his youthful daughter.

The faucet opened, along with the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mother and father, my father, and the things they went through, she claimed. Tiny by minor, my sensation returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to highschool and acquired a masters degree in audio training.

Not everything went properly. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years once the assault, however they remain friends. She dated other Gentlemen, but she always informed them concerning the assault instantly -- she could not support it, she stated -- and they by no means called for any second day.

Now we have to locate you someone, her Pal David Phelps, a guitar player, stated 4 several years back, right before introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and newbie drummer. For once, she didn't say nearly anything with regard to the attack till she acquired to find out Mr. McCann, then when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had normally frequented her at her bedside though she was in the hospital, married them in his Situations Square Workplace. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, within a burst of creative imagination, she and her close friends recorded When Had been Youthful, an album of childrens music that she experienced prepared prior to the attack, such as the music Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, generated the CD. On it, her spouse plays drums and she or he performs electric powered piano.

Is her lifetime as it absolutely was? Not accurately, while she is hesitant to attribute the variations to her injuries. Her final two piano pupils still left her, with no contacting to clarify why, she reported. She has resumed enjoying classical music, but straightforward pieces, since her daughter isn't going to give her time and energy to practice. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she said.

She would like to drive extra, sensation stranded from the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She tries to be content material with keeping property and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological medical procedures at what is now referred to as NewYork-Presbyterian Medical center/Weill Cornell Health care Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the assault, reported very last 7 days that her degree of recovery was uncommon. Shes generally usual, he explained.

Other professionals, who're not personally informed about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, tend to be more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Engage in the piano may well require an Just about mechanical procedure, a semiautomatic recall of what the fingers really need to do, explained Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation medicine at Big apple College Faculty of Drugs. Once brain-hurt, you might be usually Mind-hurt, for the rest of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay said. There is not any overcome, There's only intense compensation.

The more telling Portion of a Restoration, in his view, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and boy or girl as a substantial victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor is aware she has altered, but she has designed her peace with it. I was kind of a hyper ---- I dont know if I had been a sort A, but I used to be formidable, she suggests. Why was I so bold? I had been a piano teacher. I dont determine what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im designed to be.

Correction: June thirteen, 2006, Tuesday An post on Thursday about Kyle Kevorkian McCann, a piano Instructor who was beaten and sexually assaulted ten years ago in Central Park, misstated the title of her album of childrens tracks. It truly is Whilst Have been Youthful, not When Were being Young.

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eyesaremosaics · 7 years

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Thoughts on Aries ?

Sorry this took so long, I haven’t been inspired to write lately. My first love was an Aries, as were three of my roommates/best friends, so I have a soft spot in my heart for them. Even though most of those situations ended poorly.

Aries generally get along best with the opposite sex in my experience. They see the same sex as competition, often unconsciously. Aries men are very childlike in their attraction. They love and admire women the way a little boy feels about their mother, or a prepubescent boy noticing girls for the first time. Their whole being lights up when they see you, and often they get nervous and sheepish around the object of their affections. Aries women have the same childish enthusiasm, yet they often do the pursuing.

What I love about Aries, is their nobility. The best way to describe the core of an Aries is a knight in shining armor. Both men and women. Aries are ruled by Mars, so they are warriors. They have strong energy and enthusiasm. Even if they are tempered with water or earth in their chart, there is still this dynamic energy that emits from them. The through line of Aries is: “I do.” They often act impulsively, or in the moment.

Occasionally this impulsivity gets them into trouble. They can sometimes appear brash, crude, or insensitive. The truth is that they have little tolerance or time for bullshit. They speak their mind, and they don’t beat around the bush. You will always know where you stand with an Aries. My Aries lover saw a dress of mine and his first words were: “it looks like you’re wearing a giant napkin.”

One has to have a good sense of humor to understand Aries. They are naturally combative, but playfully so. Everything is an unconscious game for Aries, they love witty banter (think screwball comedy from the 1930’s, Charlie Chaplin was an Aries). Harassing each other back and fourth is the way to know an Aries likes you.

Aries often has this complex of having to be terminally unique, or devils advocate. Many Aries I have known will argue against something they don’t even believe in, just for the thrill of the argument. Aries needs to win. Their whole self worth, self concept is wrapped up in “winning”. The deepest core fear of an Aries, is that they will not be loved, even though a winner.

Aries fight for the underdog, they love impossible odds, lost causes. Strife pushes them to grow, and they work well under pressure. When the heat is on they don’t waste any time. They will get it done, and most effectively. They are fiercely loyal to their friends, and when an Aries cares for you, they will melt your heart with the purity of their love. It comes to you unconditional, as a newborn baby smiling at you for the first time.

Aries start out as idealists, and are hopeless romantics. Hard knocks in life deeply wound Aries, and may embitter them as adults. They are so disappointed that things are not as they pictured them to be. This can be a problem in the romantic sphere, because they have this rosy picture perfect perception of how love should be, and when that illusion shatters, they lose interest quickly and fall deeper into the despair of disappointment.

They put objects of their affections on a pedestal, and their idols are always falling.

Aries are very creative. They often have hidden genius or talent which comes naturally to them, almost as though they were merely a vessel to embody this gift. They are often skilled artists, wether it be as a musician, an illustrator, painter, craftsman, jewelry maker, photographer, dancer, etc.

My first roommate when I moved out at 18 was Sabrina, who was a tattoo artist. She was a true Aries, born right in the middle of the sign, with lots of Gemini in her chart. This made her very fussy, she was passively angry a lot of the time, sarcastic, always cracking jokes or making amusing assessments and observations about others. Her hair was all the colors of the rainbow, she changed them often depending on her mood.

She had every part of her body pierced at some point, and was covered in tattoos. The Gemini made her a bit of a gossip, but she was hilarious. Sabrina didn’t have many girl friends, so she really treasured me. I think I reminded her a lot of her mother (who was also a libra), and it showed. Aries are uniquely thoughtful. Everyday I would come home, and find her sitting up waiting for me. Her whole being would light up when I opened the door and she would cry: “Megan! You’re home!”

It felt like having a child greet their parent excitedly when they get home from work. The joy is so genuine. It’s really sweet. She would slap a picture on the coffee table and push it toward me. “Megan! I drew you!” She was an illustrator, and so talented. Looking at her drawing melted my heart, she made me look much prettier than I am, and that was the way she saw me.

My other roommate Jasmine, was a make up artist. Ironically, Sabrina and Jasmine were best friends all through high school, but broke up senior year because Sabrina stole Jasmine’s boyfriend. I asked Sabrina why she did that, and she looked very hurt in her eyes. She smiled and looked to the floor, before saying: “jasmine always wanted to be… A ‘pretty’ girl.”

Basically, jasmine had been ditching Sabrina for 'cooler’ friends. This really wounded her, so she retaliated by taking Jasmine’s boyfriend. Jasmine held her grudge toward Sabrina forever. She refused to even talk to her. It wasn’t about the guy for jasmine, so much as it was about betrayal of trust. Jasmine had a lot of Taurus and Capricorn in her chart, so she could be a little more shy than Sabrina. They both had an awesome laugh, especially jasmine. Her laughter sparkled through the whole room, and was the most distinctive thing about her.

When I moved to SF, it was because of Jazzy. She worked at MAC, and I did online orders for Nordstrom. One day we met on the escalator, and she asked me: “do you want to move to the city with me?” “Why would I want to move to San Francisco?”She looked at me incredulously and said: “why WOULDN’T you want to move here??”

All Aries women I know have masculine energy, even if they dress and look very feminine. They are assertive, with strong opinions. If they don’t like you–they will make it known. They get bored easily, and restless. Aries needs to constantly be doing things, traveling, creating, going to events or pursuing hobbies. They often have many hobbies. Also they have a high libido, and can be a bit boy crazy. They identify with men pretty easily, they feel more comfortable around them in many ways.

Sabrina would fold origami when she was anxious. I could always tell when she was having a hard time, because little origami creatures would freckle the landscape of our living room.

Aries have rose colored glasses when they are in love, more so than any other sign, even Pisces. They see the beauty and potential in you that not even you yourself can see. They aren’t always good at words, or expressing themselves verbally. Their actions, their creations are the true insight into their inner life.

Some Aries aren’t necessarily an artist, but they will have a flair for whatever it is that they do. For example, Jazzy wasn’t a painter, a writer, or an artist in the conventional sense, but she was a make up artist. She could paint people’s faces in such a way that she brought out their inner beauty and confidence. That’s what Aries is all about, empowerment and they want to serve as an inspiration to others.

My first love, he could do it all. He played every instrument, he was a filmmaker, a set designer, light technician, painter, illustrator, and a songwriter. He had this non stop flow of creative ideas coming to him all the time. He probably… Is the funniest person I ever met. He used to have me in stitches laughing so hard.

Literal conversation we had once: Me: “you’re not cool enough to be Oscar the grouch.”Aries: “oh yeah? Well you’re just NOT COOL.”Me: “yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.”Aries: “I did. And he sentencing you to 8 to 10 years of… STILL LAME.”

Or I asked him what his favorite color was, and being the contrary Indian that he is, he said clear.

Me: clear is not a colorAries: yeah huh, there are colors in the rainbow you can’t see. Me: yeah, but they’re not clear. Clear is transparency, it’s a state of being. It’s not a color.

He just kept talking over with me, and refused to accept defeat. He was generally in playful spirits, but he had a lot of sadness and tragedy in his life. I find this to be true of a lot of Aries. They smile through their broken heart. The sad clown.

Aries hate to be wrong, and they hate to be left out. Deep inside they feel like people don’t notice or value them, which is why they seek validation for their accomplishments or just their appearance in some cases, they just want to know that they are still relevant, that they are seen and valued. It’s a bit hard for them to admit, but they need people. They are similar to libra in that way.

You will never be bored with Aries, they are always ahead of you, always pioneering. In fact, their pioneering spirit is what I admire the most about them. Though if they are not careful they can dip into vanity. At times they can become self indulgent when they are licking their wounds. They are painters, painting themselves a lovely world. They say the world either breaks or hardens the heart, this is especially true of Aries. They go one way or the other. They either receive enough stimuli to support their dreams to keep them optimistic champions, or they are knocked down so many times that it makes them bitter and hard–even bullies on occasion.

This is a very effective smokescreen for their insecurities. Their brass offensive exterior is actually just a little kid who feels hurt they were picked last in the second grade.

They will walk through fire or take a billet for their loved ones. They will speak up for those less fortunate than them that they identify with. If they have Taurus or Scorpio in their chart, it will make them darker, more of a brooding personality with trust issues. Scorpio in particular can give them a vindictive flair.

The dark side of Aries lies in this feeling of futility. They either feel elated and inspired to make a difference in the world, or they feel abandoned by it, swallowed by the pointlessness. They tend to kick the can around in terms of past failures, misfortunes, traumas. They can spin their wheels and throw a pity party me in a while. However, this is typically not their MO.

Aries is very resilient, they bounce back from windfalls pretty quickly and with great vigor. Challenge excites them, it brings out the best in their nature, and you’d be surprised what they can do.

If they have a lot of earth in their chart, oh lord, they will be stubborn. You would have an easier time dragging a mule uphill than getting an Aries to back down or change their mind. Even if the facts are stacked against them, they will not back down.

An Aries sexuality is spontaneous, fiery and passionate. Sex is mental for a great many signs, but Aries is often turned on by sexual organs alone. There is a raw animalistic quality to it, they have stamina for days, and a bright enthusiasm about it. Some Aries like to be dominant, but ironically, since their personalities are already so dominant they actually are rather submissive. Their desires are intense, and they like it rough.

My Mars is in Aries, which is my sexual placement, and every lover I’ve ever had has complained that I want it too much, and I take too long. People with heavy Aries influence are passionate, they have violent and immediate sexual impulses. It’s like being a cat in heat. Elizabeth Taylor (though a Pisces) had Aries in her chart which gave her this sensuous quality. There is something very childlike and pure about their sexuality in a way.

As a cardinal sign, meaning they are initiators, they like to make waves, get a project set in motion… Though they often get bored or abandon things halfway through. Aries affections can turn off suddenly, one day you are in their good graces, one wrong move (usually against their morals or if they are less evolved ego) and they will pull the plug.

Aries can suddenly be done with a relationship if it ceases to challenge them or maintain their interest. Routine relationships will bore the fuck out of Aries. They are generally loyal, if they were to cheat, it would be because their relationship was on the outs for a long time. They will try really hard to court their lover again and again to rekindle the flame… But if that fails then they will move on, often abruptly and in a seemingly insensitive way.

Romantic disillusionment is damaging to an idealist, because it shows them they were wrong about the world. They were wrong about a person. It makes them question themselves deeply. For the most part Aries has a strong sense of identity. Their personalities and their image are bold, they make a statement. People notice them, most especially their eyes, like little dancing lights in their head, full of fascination and powerful focus wherever they direct their full attention.

They have agile bodies, usually stocky in build for males, more compact. Girls are generally on the shorter side, if thin they are lean and athletic, sprightly in their step, and ready for anything. Arian women are like Joan of arc. They have a message, and a mission in life. Aries will speak their truth no matter the opposition.

Aries women can be domineering. If they are less evolved on an emotional level, they can be “mean girls”, or elitist in nature. If they are more evolved, they will be very forgiving and inspiring friends who try to see the good in every one. My first love never once raised his voice to me, never hung up on me, never called me a name, not once. He was noble, and respected women–in spite of being a philanderer. He had a high code of morality in terms of how you talk to people, expectations and etiquette were important to him.

If Aries has a lot of water in their chat, it will make them a bit more shy. They will be more reluctant to let people in, but once they do, the beauty of their playful spirit will start to unfold before your eyes. If they have earth, it will ground them, making them more solid and less verbal. Words mean little to Aries, they want action.

Aries comes up with creative ways to show their affection for others. They love surprises, or something that shows you really notice or pay attention. They are thoughtful creatures when they want to be, yet if their needs are not being met, they can tend to become less aware of others, indulging in their own self destruction.

Aries really don’t mean any harm (in most cases) when their actions hurt someone, they feel deeply guilty about it. I remember telling my ex after holding it inside for a long time, all the actions he had taken that had hurt me. I think he genuinely was not aware of how deeply he was affecting me. When I told him in detail, he let a few silent tears roll from his eyes. I could tell how sorry he was. He didn’t have to say anything. I could see it in his eyes.

Aries can hold grudges. Oh lord can they hold grudges. They privately lose respect for people who cross them, and they are never the same in their mind again, yet they are also capable of deep forgiveness, it just takes them time to get there.

Aries have strong opinions about what they will and will not allow in their space. They can be difficult at times, wanting things to go their way most of the time. They can be a bit selfish in this respect. Compromise is not one of their strong suits.

In my experience, Aries (men especially) are the most likely to discredit astrology. Many I have met hate it, say they don’t identify with it at all.

I’ve had quite a few Aries women who saw me as a threat for some reason or another, and treated me very unkindly in the past. I refuse to stoop to that level, so I don’t entertain it. It’s really a shame, because I liked each and every one of them, yet they found it necessary to be childish.

My acting mentor was an Aries. She was harder on me than anyone else. People often fled her classroom in tears because they could not handle her piercing honesty. She constantly put me under fire in front of the whole class, picking me apart, just being really brutal with me. The truth is: she was invested in me. She knew I could do it, and she was tough love because she knew I needed someone to kick my ass out of being lazy and complacent.

I remember doing a scene in class, and when she gave adjustments afterwards, she stared at me intensely for a long minute. When she finally spoke, I could feel the irritation in her voice. “Trust. Is a word you need to learn. Not just on stage, but in your life.” I fell silent, as did the whole class. She continued: “do you even want to do this with your life?” She proceeded to rip my performance apart mercilessly. I stared at the floor shaking silently, trying to hold bank the tears in my eyes. It was humiliating. I felt so raw. My partner Jamil (who was a Scorpio might I add) even he felt sorry for me and put his hand on my leg in attempts to comfort me. Right as he did so, Gloria raised her voice angrily and shouted: “DON’T touch her. She’s not fragile. Let her do this!”

She dismissed us to our seats. I was still fighting to hold it together. She changed the subject and continued on with her lecture. I shook so violently I lost feeling in my limbs. Finally I could contain it no longer, I burst out: “Gloria!” Tears pouring down my face, contorted with shame and pain. She turned to me, not phased in the least by my distress.

“You remind me of my mother!”Her voice went suddenly soft, with a rich tenderness as she said: “I know baby.” She ran over to me quickly as I rose to my feet and embraced me tightly. I sobbed into the crook of her shoulder and said: “I just want you to be proud of me.” “I am baby, for you breaking through this right now.”

She knew exactly what I needed, pushed all the right buttons to facilitate change in me. This is what an evolved Aries is capable of. I always thought she didn’t like me, but she believed in me. She was hard on me because she knew I was capable of better, and was frustrated with me for not actualizing my full potential. Aries give sound and solid advice. They have zero tolerance for bullshit. If you ever want someone to give it to you straight, Aries and Sag are the impulsive truth tellers.

Aries are facilitators, champions, generals. They are the personification of the ID. The infant, inner child, who shouts into the void: “I am”. They are enterprising, full of new and exciting ideas, always down for an adventure. Laughing at their misfortunes. As Aries Mary Pickford was quoted saying: “this thing called failure, is not the going down but the staying down.”

They are the knights in the crusade, the hopeless romantic at the end of the archway. The partner in crime, the accomplice. They are the best friend on your favorite 90’s show. Dirty feet from climbing trees, they are the fireflies dancing in the open field at night. They are stargazing, witty banter, a screwball comedy from the 3O’s. Bette Davis, Joan Crawford (both Aries), aerial silks, road trips, a puzzle in pieces on the floor. Pyrotechnics, extreme sports, skydiving. Emotive dance, precision, discipline. The power of dominion and purpose.

Aries is a blood red satin, skin exposed, hot summer nights with the windows left wide open. The view from the tallest mountain, the inside of an intricate tree house, they are Peter Pan, tinker bell, searching forever for his shadow as it mocks his every move. They are survivors, playmates. Wild children, the lord of the flies.

They are full force creation, obstinate, stubborn, yet eternally brave. Pewter goblets. Black ribbon zig zagging up your spine, gleaming vinyl. They are bright red lipstick, hair falling into disgruntled eyes, fingernail markings along your back. They are pulling hair, pulling teeth. They are passionate oblivion, reckless abandon. Childlike devotion. Action, adventure.

They are pirates, explorers, divas and kings. The cold steel of an elegant blade, the thrill of hand to hand combat. They are stimulants, the cloud of confrontation. Strong lean muscles, bare skin exposed. They are the last soul standing in defiance. They are the hero.

#asks #astrology #aries #zodiac

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yeehawbisexualold · 7 years

Text

You’re Like Captain Hook

CS Modern AU. A while ago, I saw the prompt “your voice sounds just like my phone sex operator's voice” and simply couldn’t ignore it.

for @sailorkillian as a little pick-me-up

5.1k words. Rated M for My Man, this is a phone sex AU what do you expect? ~ also on ao3

Emma wouldn't say that she's lonely. She's actually the least lonely she's ever been. She has close friends and even co-workers that she likes. She prefers being single—too many past hurts and the distinct lack of need for a significant other, especially one of the male variety, keeping her content.

But she has been a little... hard up, lately.

It's not difficult for her to convince someone to take her to bed. It's pretty damn easy actually; all it takes is something short and a come-hither smile. What is hard is finding someone that doesn't repulse her and, even harder, finding the desire to go out in search of someone.

She's been working hard lately—bills don't pay themselves and all that. What started off as a desperate need to keep herself afloat became a steady job. So, while she's stable enough to not need to work herself to death, she still feels the need to prove herself worthy and maintain her position. And the harder she works, the more responsibility her boss gives her, leading to her total exhaustion. The only free time she has she tends to spend watching Netflix or going out for the occasional drink with friends, not looking for someone to hook up with.

She sees the ad when she's looking into a new skip online. It's off to the side of her screen and an ad of this variety wouldn't pique her interest if it weren't for the fact that it was marketed towards females. She's only ever seen phone sex commercials clearly aimed towards men, with busty women saying some flirty shit. This ad though is of a man who bares a remarkable resemblance to Chris Evans (honestly she wouldn't be surprised if it was a photoshopped image of him) sitting on a couch with a phone to his ear and a flirty grin, "Ladies, you don't have to be lonely," written across the bottom.

If done properly (it rarely is,) she thoroughly enjoys a man talking to her in bed. It's hard to find porn with decent enough dialogue to put on while she takes care of herself, so dirty talk is usually something she goes without.

She writes down the number on the ad and decides that if she's in the mood when she's finished her research for the night, she'll give it a shot. Worst case scenario, she wastes ten dollars. Best case scenario, she has a satisfying orgasm.

At exactly 11:41, she finishes her research for the night. Although she's not feeling particularly horny—finding out how scummy men can truly be tends to do the opposite of arousing her—she's still very worked up. So she dials the number.

She is greeted by an operated voice system that prompts her to press numbers in correspondence to what kind of service she would like. She starts with the basic five-minute block that she is told can be extended per minute or per block for an additional charge—$10 down payment and a $1.99 per extra minute or $15 for an additional ten-minute block.

The voice she hears after the dial tone takes her by surprise. She knows it shouldn't. This is a phone sex operation service; the person is being paid to sound sexy. But take her by surprise, it does.

"Hello, love," the man says in a rich, British-accented voice.

"Uhm, hi."

She's actually nervous. Why is she nervous? It's some random dude over the phone whom she will never meet in person.

"Let's start off with the basics. How would you like me to address you? Your name? A particular pet name?" He drills off the questions and she's taken off guard because she hadn't even thought of that. Of course, he would ask her what she wanted to be called.

"I—I don't know..." she trails off unsure. She really didn't think this through.

"Relax, love. We're not going to do anything here that you don't want to do," he soothes and she knows one thing’s for sure, the man, with his voice, was born for this. "If you don't want to give me your name, that's fine. You're under no obligation to reveal any information about yourself. Although, if this ends up being something you enjoy and would like to do again, some would be nice. This doesn't have to be anything sexual either. We can simply talk if you'd like. This is all entirely up to you."

"I don't really know what I'm doing here so having to decide how this plays out doesn't calm my nerves."

"Ok, let's get the big question out of the way. Are you looking for something sexual or just someone to talk to?"

"I'm here for sexual," she blurts out and thank God he can't see her because she's burning a bright red that's worked its way down to her chest.

"Alright," he chuckles lowly and there's a slight shift to the tone of his voice that sends a shiver down her spine. "I can do sexual, love. Is that what you'd like me to call you? Love?"

She's never been fond of pet names. Neal used to call her baby which squicked her out and Walsh only ever called her anything other than her name when he wanted something or when he was apologizing. But the way he says love makes her stomach feel all tingly inside, an intensity level one step above butterflies, and it doesn't feel cheap or condescending, so she finds she doesn't mind it at all.

"That works for me. What do I call you?"

"Hook. Captain Hook to be precise."

Do they background check these people before hiring them? She's gone from being slightly reassured to feeling like this man hasn't entirely got a grasp on reality.

"Hook?" she asks astonished.

"That's it. The first ever caller I got had a thing for pirates and she seemed to like it enough and the next thing I knew, it became my signature. So, Hook it is," he explains and she's back to being reassured.

"Pirates? Oh my god. What does that entail?"

"Honestly, a lot of nautical puns," he confesses.

"Ok, I'm definitely going to need to hear one of those." "When I jab you with my sword, you will feel it," he growls, and holy shit. She never would have thought that would have been her cup of tea but damn did it do something for her if the slight jolt to her center counts for anything.

Her gasp must have been audible because he then asks, "Liked that one, did you, lass?"

She nods but then realizes he can't hear that.

"Maybe."

"Is that the route we’re going tonight?"

"Another time." It's actually been a pretty enjoyable experience, entertaining at least, so far and she can picture herself calling back again. "Let's get to it."

"As you wish then, milady. Take off your pants," he demands.

She puts him on speaker and does just that.

"Are they off?"

"Uh-huh."

"Now, your shirt."

She rips her shirt over her head and he says, "Ok, love, now I want you to lie back and get comfortable."

After propping up a stack of pillows and leaning back against them she asks, "Now what?"

"Now, I want you to take your hand and as lightly as possible, run it up your thigh, slowly. Can you do that for me?"

It amazes her what just a voice can do to a person, her skin itching and her blood starting to pulse in her ears.

"Mhmm."

"Now do it again, up the inside of your thigh," he breathes, the combination of her teasing touch and his voice sending a shiver up her spine. "I don't want you to touch yourself yet though."

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" she inquires. "Touching myself?"

"Oh, you're a smart one, huh?" he chuckles and she hopes he does it again before their time is over. "I want you to take your nails and gently scratch right where the inside of your thigh meets your center. Imagine it's the stubble of my cheek rubbing against you."

He continues on like that for an indiscernible amount of time—but really no longer than a total of 25 minutes because she went ahead and paid the extra $30 for 20 more minutes—telling her what to do and when, whispering completely filthy things in her ear, and coaxing her to not one but two earth-shattering orgasms.

He tells her she's been utterly brilliant and she asks him if it's possible for her to get him if she calls again. He gives her the information to contact him again and she tucks it away for future use, noting that they share an area code.

—

It's been just longer than a month and she's called Hook a total of four times now. She'd probably be a little ashamed at having become slightly dependent on a stranger over the phone to bring her sexual release if the orgasms weren't so good.

They usually start off by chatting a little; he's unbelievably easy to talk to. She knows it's his job to make her feel comfortable and wanted, but it never feels forced. It doesn't take long for them to get down to business though and he gets her worked up and over the edge in an embarrassing amount of time.

Although she doesn't feel like she's doing anything wrong, she hasn't told anyone. How do you tell your friends you've been calling a phone sex operator once a week?

She's meeting David and Mary Margaret at a nearby Italian restaurant because David wants her to meet his new friend, whom he met in a coffee shop of all places, over a month ago. Which isn't something new for her. David is the most annoyingly charming person she's ever known, the only person coming anywhere near being his wife. Between the two of them, she's constantly meeting "new friends."

She waves off the hostess when she walks in, having already spotted her friends sitting at a high top table. David stands to give her a hug and she gives a very pregnant Mary Margaret a stern look so that she doesn't do the same.

"Isn't that thing almost out yet?" she asks taking off her leather jacket, leaving her in a simple but nice, black dress.

"God, I hope so," her friend sighs.

"Where's your friend?"

David simply points behind her and she turns to see an incredibly attractive man walking up to their table.

"Hello, lass. Killian Jones," he says and dear lord, he's British. Upon seeing her outstretched hand, he shifts his jacket from his right hand to his left or, she should say, to his hook. "Apologies, love. I normally wear a wooden hand when meeting new people but the hook is easier to drive with and I forgot my other attachment at home."

"Don't apologize. I like it. You're like Captain Hook," she blurts out without thinking and before she can apologize for being so ignorant he bursts into laughter, tossing his head back and clutching at his waist. It's a wonderful sound. "Get that one often?"

"Please don't," David implores, leaving her more confused.

"Yes, but not for reasons your thinking. You see I'm a writer but I'm only just now getting somewhere with that so for the past couple of years I've been doing something else part time to keep stable," he explains, jovially.

"Doing what? Being a pirate at kids birthday parties?"

"No, although, that's actually a decent idea. I'm a phone sex operator."

Her heart drops into her stomach. How many British phone sex operators can there be that live in the area and respond to Captain Hook? She tries to keep her expression neutral, to keep from alerting her friends to her distress and to not offend him with her horrified face.

"What does that entail?" she asks and an odd look crosses his face. "Phone sex, that is?"

"Well, my specialty is being a pirate. I'm actually fairly highly rated due to it. What I do is mostly a lot of roleplaying. You wouldn't believe some of the things that the women that call are into." "Is it all like that?" she inquires, trying to act as if she has no knowledge on the subject when in fact she has a great deal.

"Mostly. I get the occasional woman who's just lonely and wanting someone to talk to but a majority of my clients want things sexual in nature, typically things they are ashamed of getting elsewhere."

They're momentarily interrupted by the waiter asking for their drink orders. Mary Margaret gets a water and out of solidarity, so does David. She orders a red wine and Killian does as well.

"Wine?"

"I'm typically a rum man but it sounded refreshing," he shrugs, with a grin.

"Because of the whole pirate thing?"

"That's not the sole reason but it does go well with my image, doesn't it?"

Damn, he's even more charming in person. What with his glittering eyes, cocky grin, and restless eyebrows, she's not sure she'll be able to make it through the meal without sweeping everything off the table and demanding he take her right there, in full view of the diners. She'd like to find out how the naughty things he describes to her over the phone work out in person.

Ignoring her growing interest in the point of his ears, they chat amicably—about "anything other than this baby" as per Mary Margaret's orders—until the food comes. Once the meal is nearly finished, Mary Margaret gets a nose bleed.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she waves Emma off, holding a maroon cloth napkin to her face. "This happens. We talked to my doctor about it and he said it's a common side effect. Something about the blood vessels expanding and blood pressure. It's just been a long day for me."

"I'm sorry. If you weren't feeling well we should have postponed," Emma chides her friend.

"No, I wasn't feeling bad. It just snuck up on me," she assures her. "We hardly get together anymore and David wanted a chance for you and Killian to meet."

"But we should be getting you home now," David interjects grabbing Mary Margaret's jacket and dropping cash on the table. Emma moves to do the same, having finished her food, but he waves her off. "Stay. Enjoy your night off. Make a new friend."

After the couple walks out the doors of the restaurant, she turns back to Killian.

"I almost think she did that one purpose."

"Aye, I'm inclined to agree."

"Have you been on the receiving end of one of their set ups before?"

"Once, a couple weeks after we met. I was invited out to a bar to meet up with them and a lass named Regina," he explains but then a rueful grin overtakes his face. "Another fellow by the name of Robin was there, playing darts with mates though, and she spent more time making snippy comments in his direction than listening to anything Mary Margaret or I had to say."

"Yeah, that might have been more of an effort to spur something into action between them than between you and her."

Despite Mary Margaret's obvious displeasure, Regina and Robin have been flirting around the edge of something for nearly a year. Regina hurls insults at the guy with venom that would fell the strongest of men but Robin just responds with a haughty 'your majesty.' One would think that would make for the opposite of a good match, but that one wouldn't know Regina Mills and the way that her belittling is a clear mask for her attraction and worse, her feelings.

"I gathered as much when Mary Margaret called the man over to tell him about how I was a new friend of David's and how sure she was that Regina and I would hit it off."

"Did you?"

"Hit it off? I suppose," he ponders rubbing his chin and she doesn't think of what his stubble would feel like beneath her own fingers. "She made a rather tactless comment about my hand but other than that, the banter was enjoyable."

"She, uh, yeah, she does that."

"But enough talk about her. I have a question for you."

"Alright," she says hesitantly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms under her chest.

"Please, don't take off running right away."

All she gives in response is a nod.

"I've recently acquired a new... client. Lovely lass. Good humored, hesitant but acceptant to new things, alluring voice, pays for a nice chunk of time. I've only had a handful of conversations with her but, and not to offend you, you sound an uncanny amount like her."

At least three, possibly four, large and heavy rocks have settled in her stomach. She knew where his train of thought was going before he finished but, god, she hoped it would take a turn. Tempted to ignore his wishes and run out of the restaurant as fast as possible, she eyes her exit options warily but decides against it. If she were to bolt now he would likely mention it to David. Staying and discussing it with him was her only option.

"That's not a question," she finally says.

"Are you her?"

Renounce the idea or beg him to keep his mouth shut? Deny or plead?

She decides to be brave and answer truthfully. She'll never be able to call him again and surely he'll know she lied if she suddenly stops needing his services.

"I am." Lord help her.

"Then you're even lovelier than I imagined," he discloses, slanting himself forward and propping his elbows on the table. If the hue of his eyes was overwhelming before, they're crushing now with the added sparkle.

She blinks, startled by the admission. "You imagined?"

It shouldn't be a revelation. She's spent enough time, laying in bed after they've hung up, breathing heavily, and wondering just what he would look like. She'd basically just settled on him having long curly hair and a mustache, though.

"Well, yeah, from time to time."

"Time to time?" she asks, dazed.

"All of the time." His eyes aren't so shimmering anymore; they've darkened, become more intense. "It's impossible not to imagine the face that goes with the voice."

"So you imagine all of your customers?" She leans forward herself, bringing her face closer to his. They've entered flirty territory now.

"Some, not all," he corrects, tilting his head slightly. "It's hard not to wonder but it's easy to picture celebrities and such to ease the curiosity. I'm not often actually aroused when working. Things are typically more clinical on my end. A few, I ponder in more detail than others. But you, I've spent the most time envisioning."

"Oh?" she breathes

"I was correct in guessing your hair color, length even. I imagined running my hand through it—"

"Your rings would get tangled," she interrupts.

"That's likely but it can be worked around. Now, your eyes, I imagined brown. You couldn't imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to discover such an alluring shade of green. And you're bone structure, bloody hell, it's splendid."

She doesn't answer. She can't answer. She just sits there flustered, flattered, and flummoxed.

"Too forward?" he asks, easing backward off the table giving her much needed space to think.

"I've put men in handcuffs for less," she finally settles on, not wanting this man, no matter how attractive he may be, to get the best of her.

"You're a cop?"

"Bail bondsperson."

He tilts further back in his seat, astonished.

"That's unbelievably attractive."

She's feeling awkward now. It's not unusual for men to be interested in her line of work but this—the way he's been looking at her since he arrived and his frank compliments—just feels too... genuine. She doesn't do well with sincerity; she never has. It's probably a result of going so long without anything of the heartfelt variety.

While his sincerity does unsettle her, it doesn't make her tense up quite as bad as it usually does. And, fucking hell, he's insanely hot. She knows he can get her over the edge with just his voice so she decides to do something she might regret later.

"Can I trust you to keep all of this to yourself?"

"If that's what you wish, love, you have my utter discretion," he says solemnly.

That decides it for her. "How'd you get here?" she asks grabbing her jacket and purse.

"I walked," he answers, practically stumbling out of his chair. "I don't live far from here."

"Alright, buddy. Follow me to my car."

The ride to his apartment really is short but still too long for her liking. By the time he shuts his front door behind her, she's about ready to burst and releases a tension she didn't know she was holding when he pounces on her with his mouth.

Nine times out of ten, she'd be annoyed by the forwardness. Thankfully for him, this is time number one. It was perfectly clear where this was headed and she's actually relieved he made the first move.

After a few minutes of swirling tongues and wandering hands, he begins pushing his hips into hers. She takes the hint when she feels his hands moving down her legs, and raises one of them up his hip, helping him lift her into his arms.

When he drops her on the end of his bed, he immediately steps back to remove his clothes.

"God, you wear a lot of layers," she notes after he's peeled off his jacket and begun working on the buttons of his vest.

"Aye," he chuckles and she's slightly amazed—definitely aroused—by the dexterity displayed with the speed of unbuttoning the damn thing.

"One thing’s for sure, you're good with you hand."

"Oh, love, you haven't seen good yet," he growls and she's embarrassingly wet.

She slips her dress over her head as he begins working on his pants and then they're left in nothing but their underwear. He advances on her and she crawls backward up to the top of the bed. They both still when she's backed up against the headboard and he's hovering over her.

"Bloody hell. I don't even know where to begin with you," he groans but then, "Actually, I do."

He latches his lips onto the pulse point of her neck and begins sucking with just the right pressure. Before she can smack him away, warning against hickeys, he licks a hot stripe up the skin and stops behind her ear. He flattens his tongue against the back of her earlobe and then sucks the whole thing into her mouth, nibbling the soft skin between his teeth.

He then kisses along the edge of her jaw and brings his lips back to hers. As he dizzies her with his tongue, he unlatches her bra, nimbler than she herself can do with two hands. He pulls back to look at was he's uncovered and groans deeply.

His eyes flit back and forth as if unable to decide which one to start with. In the end, he chooses the right, wrapping his lips around the bud of her nipple and lavishing it. He switches between light swirling motions and fast flicks of his tongue. When she feels the cool metal of the curve of his hook against the other, her brain short circuits.

Just as she's about to scream that she can't take it anymore, he lifts his head. She nearly sobs in relief but is equally pleased and dismayed when he promptly turns his attention to the other breast, moving his hand, agonizingly slowly down her stomach.

"Hmmm," he hums when he reaches the edge of her waistband, curling his fingers and rubbing his knuckles gently up and down exactly where she needs him.

"Fucking, fuck," she gasps when he presses the ring of one of his fingers into her clit, rubbing the gem in a luxurious motion.

He releases her nipple with a wet plopping sound and grins up at her. "Yeah?"

Mouth slack, she nods. He tucks the tip of his hook into her underwear and starts sliding down her body with the movement of her underwear. When she realizes his intent, his breath ghosting hotly over her center, she shakes her head.

"No," she demands in what's barely more than a whisper. "Take those off and get back up here"

"Aren't you curious about what I can do with my mouth?" he asks with a smirk. She shakes her head. "How about just a taste then?"

Before she can answer, her head falls back as he licks up her center. She grabs weakly at his hair and yanks his head away.

"Ok, ok," he sighs, leaning back and pulling off his boxer briefs. And just of fucking course, the man has a pretty dick. It wouldn't be enough for him to simply have great looks, a sexy voice, and talented fingers. No, he needed a great dick too.

He moves between her hips and she spreads her legs wider, allowing him to settle between them.

"I'd ask you if you're ready but I gathered as much when I was down—" He cuts off with a moan when she wraps her fingers around him and guides him to her.

"Anything else to say?"

"Not much."

Then he's pushing all the way in, filling her in the most wonderful way. It's all she can do at first, to lay back and let him thrust. But eventually, she spurs herself into action, curling one of her legs to wrap around him and clutching tightly at his shoulders. She moves one of her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and the other down his back to grab a handful of his ass. It's a great ass and she tells him as much.

"Believe me, lass, when I tell you the same," he laughs breathlessly into the skin of her neck.

His thrusts get faster and he drags against her clit in just the right way and before she knows it, he's sending her tumbling over the edge with gasping, sobbing breaths and fucking stars behind her clenched eyelids.

She lays there, breathing heavily, a loose-limbed puddle on the mattress as he follows her into release. She can't be bothered to do much of anything after he rolls off of her, in the long span of time it takes them to regain their senses.

"That was..." he murmurs once his breathing has evened some. He sounds far too enamored for her comfort and this is where the regret sets in.

"A one-time thing," she states getting out of the bed to redress.

"What no post-coital cuddle?" he inquires and it doesn't sound harsh, just slightly pained.

She fixes him with a hard look.

"You're not going to tell David right?"

"I gave you my word," he says with furrowed brows and flops back heavily against his pillows.

"Thank you," she mutters, slipping her shoes back on. She heads out of the room and almost doesn't hear his soft request for her to get home safe.

—

She doesn't call him again after that. Oh, she's tempted more times than she would like when she crawls into bed frustrated, remembering just how lust-inducing the sound of his voice is. But she just can't bring herself to do it.

David and Mary Margaret ask her out a few times but she turns them down with lame excuses of not feeling well or having too much work to do. She's sure they sense something amiss but they don't push her. She's grateful for that.

It's around nine in the evening, a few weeks after she left Hook—Killian—alone in his apartment to post-coital cuddle himself when she gets a call from an unknown number. She almost ignores it but it could be someone with information on her latest skip so she answers it. When she hears the voice on the other end of the line, she wishes she'd ignored it.

"Hello, love."

"This isn't your number," she states.

"Not the one you call, no," he replies sounding nervous, something she hasn't heard from him before. "I have a separate phone for work."

"Oh," she says feeling silly.

"Yeah."

There's a brief, awkward silence.

"David suspects something happened between us," he blurts out. Before she can berate him, "I didn't tell him anything but he won't let it go."

"Well, I have been kind of ignoring them," she sighs heavily, relaxing back into her pillows.

"Emma—" he begins but stops himself. She waits for him to continue. "I... I normally don't draw any attachments to my clients. If someone suddenly stops calling the only disappointment I feel is for the loss of money. But with you, well, I became attached."

"My vagina probably had something to do with that," she says dryly.

"No. Well, yes. But I had already developed feelings for you before we even met. I enjoyed our conversations immensely and that just doesn't happen for me. And while the other night was delightful, what I would like to continue the most is our communication." "Look, Hook," she says, ignoring the rhyme, "I've been described by multiple people as prickly so excuse me if I find it hard to believe that what you miss is talking to me."

"But that's just it! I quite fancy you for your prickliness."

She's stunned into silence.

"I'm not asking for anything serious right now," he pleads. "I just want the chance to get to know you better, to see if this can become something. And I really feel like this will become something wonderful."

She almost wants to hang up. Emotional confessions and requests for more are not things she's used to. But he sounds so earnest and she really enjoys the orgasms she has when he's involved.

So, she doesn't hang up. Instead, she says, "Ok."

"Ok?"

She's slightly annoyed at his tone of surprise, but she doesn't blame the guy. She did walk out on him immediately after sex and proceed not to call him for weeks.

"We need to start slow, though."

"Perfectly acceptable."

"And no telling David and Mary Margaret until I say so."

"Mum's the words, my dear."

"And keep the dirty, pirate puns to a minimum."

"I'll try my best."

They meet for coffee a couple days later, before one of her stakeouts. He's just as charming and handsome as she remembered—she kind of hoped he wouldn't be. So when he asks if she'll be willing to meet again, "Say, tomorrow evening for wine and a movie?" she says yes.

They don't make it halfway through the film before he shows her just what she'd missed out on with his mouth before.

#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs smut #my fic #combat hate w smut?

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