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houseplant-central · 4 years ago

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if John Green wrote me as a character in one of his novels

Quick trigger warning: this post includes spoilers for John Green's "Looking for Alaska", as well as discussion of writing that glorifies mental illness and suicide.

My younger sister told me this morning that she had started reading a novel by John Green. No disrespect intended to the man, but I was concerned.

Among a variety of other media I consumed in my pre-teen years, it was likely the anthology of John Green's works I owned that contributed to my obsession with the collective "manic pixie dream girl" fetish of 2013. (An anthology of works that is still sitting on a bookshelf at my mother's house, hence where my sister must have found "An Abundance of Katherines"). Again, no disrespect to the man, but when all of your books (with the exception of "The Fault In Our Stars") have a "quirky" but "tragically mentally ill" teenage girl who is somehow also super fit and always looking attractive (despite afore mentioned mental illness she's supposedly dealing with), who will either pretend to die or actually die by the halfway point of the book to inspire your male lead to go on a soul searching journey-- something's going on.

Case in point, "Looking For Alaska", which (spoiler alert), I am going to spoil the plot of in the next few paragraphs. Alaska has the potential to be one of the most interesting female leads I've ever come across in teen literature. She's enigmatic, ridiculously quick-witted and undeniably beautiful. She's recovering from a complicated family trauma, and has moved out on her own to attend university, determined to carve out a meaningful life for herself, despite struggling with complex PTSD and manic depression.

Except the story is told from the point of view of a young boy named Miles, whose only real character trait is that he's hopelessly fascinated by Alaska. This could still work as a novel mostly about Alaska, but told through the eyes of her first love, Miles. Or as a chronicle of their friendship and love story. But for either of those to work, it would require Green to use Miles' point of view to flesh out both Miles' and Alaska's character. Instead, Miles remains a stand in for literally any teenage boy, with very little character qualities, and Alaska's "quirkiness" and attractive qualities elevate her to the most amazing person Miles has ever come across. Despite Miles and Alaska only being very briefly romantically involved, Miles spends the entirety of the book chronicling his attraction to Alaska and everyone else's love for her.

But it doesn't stop there.

All of Alaska's quirks are considered attractive, including her toxicity to her friends, her long disappearances, and jokes about her suicidal ideation and depression. Her mental illness is glorified as another thing that separates her from the "other girls" which hold no interest for Miles. Ultimately it's this glorification of her mental illness, especially her manic depression, that makes me comfortable labelling this work as one that falls into the "manic pixie dream girl" trope.

But it doesn't stop there.

Because Alaska kills herself. And this only creates more intrigue for Miles, who dedicates the rest of the novel to better understanding her, even when she is gone. Which again, could be quite a compelling, if depressing, narrative. But ultimately Green makes it so Alaska's death only makes Miles more in love with her. The friends who were once side characters express to Miles how much they miss her now that she's gone. The bully characters admit to Miles that they've realized they should have befriended her when she was alive, but could only realize that now that she's dead. Far from a warning that your loved ones will miss you when you're gone, "Looking for Alaska" was "13 Reasons Why" before "13 Reasons Why". It promised young readers that people who kill themselves teach their friends and their bullies their worth: the absolute last messaging any author should be sending to young readers.

This was indeed sub-par messaging for tiny, clinically depressed pre-teen me.

Back to the crux of the point, however. For a long time I was in love with this book, and the character of Alaska. I supposed I looked at her and her family trauma, similar to mine, and thought: "damn, my trauma just makes me cry whenever adults raise their voice, but this girl uses it to be smart, skinny, well-dressed, well-read, a little provocative, AND relatable. I must be doing something wrong." Thus, with Alaska and a collection of Tumblr posts and Arctic Monkey's lyrics in mind, I set about my several year long quest to become just that variety of manic pixie dream girl.

Enter: several problems. I did not struggle with mania, rather sluggishness and a loss of enthusiasm for life outside of novels and the internet; this meant I did not feel like running around in short skirts and knee socks being the life of the party in every situation like Alaska. I wasn't pixie sized; I struggled with my relationship to my body my entire teenage years, and I could never hop up on a table to give a drunken toast like Alaska, it might break. "Dream" is a little less quantifiable, but I never talked to anyone outside my handful of friends, so I had slim chances of becoming anyone's impossible dream. "Girl" I thought I at least fit, for the entirety of high school, but I came out as non-binary in my first year of university; so all together taking a look at "manic pixie dream girl" I was 0 for 4.

Nonetheless aspects of that romanticism of a broken childhood and that touch-and-go relationship with self-identity stuck with me through high school into college, and my greatest fear is either promoting that romanticization of real issues in real life, or in my writing. Because often I look at myself, or an aspect of my life and go "heh, that doesn't sound like a real personality trait, that sounds like something a female John Green novel character would do or say. Get over yourself."

So here, without further ado, is a look into that guilty pleasure of romanticization. John Green would start with something like: "they* liked used books that already had annotation in them." It's always a little detail with him, one that's considered a character "quirk". That's the one thing of his I picked up and is still in far too much in my writing today. A list of quirks instead of an actual character. (But that's a blogpost on writing for another time).

So: "They liked used books that already had annotation in them. They kept a collection of books on astrology, numerology, and tarot. They grew outdoor plants indoors under a lamp they bought from a weed dealer, though they didn't smoke. The plants were mostly herbs, and they used them in cooking. They had houseplants too. Their eyes were deep set. When they wore mascara it smudged near instantly underneath, but it still looked good. They had some sort of tragic backstory, that explained their oversized sweaters, and their late nights and their dark art, but the backstory was desperate and sweaty and felt like fingernails making bloody crescents in hands, and wasn't aesthetic, so it wasn't important. They owned a polaroid camera. They'd read the entirety of Beowulf for fun. They would somedays stare into nothingness for hours on end if uninterrupted, not thinking of anything at all, and be startled by the way time still continued to pass. But that wasn't terrifying, it was only quirky, somehow. They smelled like coffee. They couldn't seem to make themselves yell, even when they were angry or in danger, but that was also quirky, somehow, and cute, and not a huge safety issue. They liked the smell of pine trees."

I think it's important to romanticize some aspects of your own life. If it's important to you, then it's important to you. Liking your own quirks is much better than hating them. And romanticizing quirks like smelling of coffee is valid. But romanticizing your bad or difficult qualities as "quirky" is not good. (A note to fourteen year old me: "romanticize your love of already annotated books! But not your mental illness! Take that shit seriously instead, yo.") And thinking you're going to make your life better or more meaningful by copying Alaska is never a good idea; she didn't have a very good ending.

*they/them are my preferred pronouns!

Edit: I looked up "Looking for Alaska" and realized it's banned in some highschools in Canada and the states. I was about to redact some of my harsh standpoint that it's not a good read for younger teens, who might become too blindly attached to the negative messaging like I did, because I don't think banning books outright for heavy content is ever a good idea (banning books for hate speech is another debate for another time). But then I saw the suggested ban has nothing to do with the glorification of suicide and everything to do with the "offensive language, sexually explicit scenes, homosexuality and unsuitable religious viewpoints", which is ridiculous. I don't think it should be banned in any capacity-- I think reading it now (if I'd never read it before) would give me context for the manic pixie dream girl craze, and be somewhat of an enjoyable read. My hesitance about my sister reading it now is because she reminds me too much of myself at that age.

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octoberdecemberwrites-blog · 6 years ago

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It wasn’t Alec Lightwood’s fault—

Or at least that’s what he’d tried to tell his parents, anyway.

The party getting out of hand was maybe Isabelle’s fault—

Maybe even Clary’s—

But it definitely wasn’t his and he didn’t understand why he was the only one being made to pay the price.

The whole thing had started off innocent enough. One of the higher-ups at The Institute wanted to have a simple, Hawaiian themed going away party. Of course, being a popular, upcoming party planner in the Manhattan area, Alec’s name came up as a potential thrower of said party. And of course, because Alec was always looking for the next big party to throw, he’d readily accepted the offer.

The gig was one of the most expensive affairs that Alec had been trusted with to date, clocking in at around $50,000. Everything had been beautifully decorated, too, with a luau being recreated out of a large conference room, including free flowing cosmopolitans and professional dancers in shimmying, grass skirts—

And a goddamn fire pit.

God damn that goddamn fire pit.

It’d seemed like such an innovative idea at the time, bringing that classic, crackling flavor all the way from Hawaii to NYC, keeping that special magic alive that so often comes with relaxing on a beach after a long day of vacationing and sightseeing...

Alec remembered hearing the screams before he saw the flames.

One of the girls in grass skirts desperately hopped over the bar, as she poured mixed drinks right down the front of her outfit, hoping it’d quickly put out the fire. The other hired dancers soon followed her lead, nearly tearing the bar apart as they splashed around in alcohol and beer...

Which only caused the flames to increase.

And in turn, caused the screams to get even louder.

Eventually, the dancers were saved by fire extinguishers, and thankfully no one was severely injured...

Even though Alec’s party planning reputation had completely gone down in flames.

But at the time, Alec didn’t understand how it even happened in the first place. He could so easily recall making at least three rounds around the fire pit, each time asking one of his assistants to make a note to all of the event’s attendees about not standing so close to the fire. It was gorgeous, but it was fire, so while Alec could try his best to contain it, there were no guarantees that it wouldn’t shoot off sparks every now and then.

After the fiasco, Alec had heard through the grapevine that one of the very guests at the event had been encouraging the dancers to position themselves around the fire, since it would make for better photographs and all—

But the only leads Alec had to go on was that the guest was stunning and also a woman.

Apparently, no one had been able to catch their name.

Although, being able to properly place blame on the perpetrator didn’t matter too much to Alec right now. He was too busy focusing on his current plight—

Being forced to work a 9 to 5.

His parents had decided to temporarily cut off his access to their bank account, hoping to sway his interest in party planning and get him on the path to pursuing a “real job in the real world.” Maryse had repeatedly mentioned Izzy’s name as a comparison, wondering why Alec couldn’t get involved with computers or little, digital gadgets like his sister loved to do—

But Alec Lightwood knew that he wasn’t a goddamn nerd.

He was The Pretty Boy Party Planner of NYC, and as soon as his reputation recovered—

And as soon as his dad eventually cracked and gave Alec back his Black Card—

He’d be back to his former, glorious self, planning luxurious parties, getting sloppily day-drunk on margaritas and helping Maia figure out what size Louboutin she wore in US shoe sizes.

Until then, however, he’d resigned himself to his position as Sales Manager at Toys! Toys! Toys!, a store dedicated to brand name play-sets and pricey additions to Barbie’s dream-house. Alec snagged the job due to Jace’s stellar recommendation with the Hiring Department, which included the words “my brother is kind of a gay disaster but he has a good heart...I think.”

I think.

Alec scoffed at the words, even now, as he sorted through a box of detached doll heads.

Of course, he had a good heart.

It wasn’t Alec’s fault that no one had given him the opportunity to prove it to them yet. It was like every guy in Manhattan only wanted sex, sex sex—

As soon as Alec brought up the word relationship they’d pretty much disappear on the spot like a fucking magician.

“Excuse me...um...it’s Alec, right?” The voice came from somewhere behind Alec—

But he already knew who it was.

Magnus Fucking Bane.

The most gorgeous man that Alec had ever seen in his life. Magnus had only been coming into the shop for a few weeks or so, and he seemed particularly interested in any new shipment related to doll parts, dollhouses, doll clothes...

Alec began to wonder if Magnus had a child, some super cute, super spoiled, adorable little brat of a child, who had the privilege of having Magnus as their father...

But Alec hadn’t found the courage to ask Magnus about it yet—

Really, he hadn’t found the courage to ask Magnus about anything, not even to find out if Magnus liked guys or not.

“Hi. Hey. Yeah.” Alec moved away from the objectively creepy box of heads, and turned to face Magnus, directly. “It’s Alec. And it’s...Magnus...right?”

“You remembered.” Magnus offered Alec a bright, warm smile—

And Alec felt like he was going to pass out on the spot. “What brings you in today, Magnus?”

“Oh, just wondering if you got anything new in stock...maybe...something like a doll car? Barbie jeep? Is that what it’s called?”

Alec let out a light laugh, before folding his arms across his chest. “How is it possible that you own basically every Barbie-ish thing known to man and you still don’t know what a Barbie jeep is?”

“Sorry. I’m still kind of...new at this.” Magnus blushed a deep red—

And now Alec felt like a total asshole. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Magnus. I’d just assumed that you’ve been buying stuff for your daughter—”

Magnus hastily shook his head. “I don’t have a daughter.”

Oh my God.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

He has a son?

He’s been buying doll stuff for his son this whole time?

HE’S SO FUCKING PROGRESSIVE.

YASSSS KING. FUCK GENDER NORMS.

YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD DADDY.

PLEASE BE MY DADDY, TOO—

“Alec? Are you alright? You just kind of...stopped talking.” Magnus gave Alec a sheepish grin—

And Alec suddenly felt incredibly weak in the knees. Using all of the remaining energy in his body, Alec managed to formulate a response. “We have some new cars in the back. Ooh, there’s a new model that can fit your Barbie and all three of her ethnically diverse friends—”

“My...uh...Barbie...will probably just be riding solo.” Magnus smiled at Alec once again. “But please, lead the way.”

Alec quietly nodded, before nervously heading down a nearby aisle, trying his best not to trip over his own, two feet and fall flat on his face.

************************************************************

“Maiaaaaaaa.” Alec whined, as he plopped down on Maia’s living room couch. “I need helpppppp.”

“Do you actually need help? Or are you just being dramatic?” Maia took a seat beside Alec, her attention still focused on her phone.

“I’m not being dramatic. I am literally dying.” Alec whined again, before nudging Maia in her shoulder. “Magnus is so freakin’ hot. It’s ruining my life.”

“Is this the weirdo who comes in to buy all that Barbie stuff like once a week?”

“He’s not a weirdo! He’s just being a good dad...he’s just a really good daddy—”

“Alec, you know you’re no longer allowed to use that word in my apartment.” Maia finally looked up from her phone. “Not since you used that word to describe Luke. The man who is like my actual father.”

“Oh, boo-hoo, Maia! You’ve got a hot dad!” Alec openly rolled his eyes. “But now that I have your attention...please tell me how to make a boy like me, please, please, please—”

“Just be yourself, and I’m sure he’ll be into it.” Maia grinned, and casually shrugged her shoulders. “Seriously. You’re the most entertaining person I’ve ever met.”

“Maia, I’ve been myself my entire life and I am still single.” Alec groaned under his breath. “Can’t I just be someone else? Someone who Magnus will want to marry immediately?”

“Alec—Oh wait.” Maia’s phone began to chime in her palm, and she swiftly swiped a finger across her screen. “Oh, it’s Simon. He’s just sending me pics from backstage. He’s opening for Maroon 5 tonight.”

“Are you two still a thing? I thought he was dating my sister.”

“He is.”

“...And he’s also...dating you?”

“Yep.” Maia beamed, before setting her phone back in her lap. “It’s 2018, Alec Lightwood. Poly people exist.”

“I know poly people exist, Maia, I just don’t know what you see in Simon Lewis.” Alec scoffed and slightly shifted in his seat. “I think you’re settling. I gave you Jace’s number, didn’t I?”

“Alec, Jace is dating Clary.”

“Oh my God. What?” Alec, exasperated, threw his hands up in the air. “Everybody’s fucking everybody! Except me! Everybody is fucking and no one is fucking me!”

“Stop complaining. You’re white. And hot. And rich. Just get back on Grindr. Duh.” Maia reached for the TV remote, which had been resting on the table in front of the couch.

“I can’t go back to Grindr. I saw Magnus slightly bend over to pick something up from the bottom shelf once and I swear to Christ I saw washboard abs. How am I supposed to go out with a mere mortal after I’ve seen the abs of God?”

“Well, then, Alec Lightwood, you are freakin’ doomed.” Maia broke out into a chuckle, as she lazily flipped through TV channels. “Hey, what usually comes on around this time—”

“STOP.” Alec yanked the remote out of Maia’s hands, before eagerly pointing towards the TV screen. “Magnus! Look! Magnus! Look, look, look!”

There was now a very cheesy ad playing for Magnus’ Tarot Card Reading Services, complete with very cheap editing and awful font flashing his business’ number on the screen below. Magnus was featured prominently in the ad, too, in all of his lens-less glasses and dad jeans glory.

“Oh.” Maia turned her attention to the screen, a sly smile spreading across her face. “He is cute, huh? He looks really...wholesome. Wait, he runs a tarot card place? Aren’t those places mostly scams? And wait, what the hell? Is that Luke? Why the hell would Luke go to a tarot card place—”

“Who cares?! Don’t you see what this means?” Alec’s voice was filled with excitement. “If Magnus’ day job is running some corny tarot card reading place, and my day job is running some corny, corporate toy store...Maia, it means we’re in each other’s league. Magnus Bane is 1000% attainable. If I ask him out, he has to say yes!”

“Uh, no? I don’t think it means he has to say yes, Alec—”

“That’s it! The next time I see him, I’m going for it!” Alec emphatically clasped his hands together. “Tell Simon he’s not invited to our wedding, by the way.”

“Screw you, Lightwood!” Maia playfully threw a pillow at Alec’s head—

Before they began to laugh in nearly perfect unison.

********************************************************************

Alec wasn’t going to be able to do it—

Ask Magnus out.

Not today.

Oh God. Why did Magnus have to look like that today?

Magnus had come into the toy store wearing a perfectly fitted suit and Italian loafers, like he was fresh off some high-fashion runway.

It was the best that Magnus had ever looked, and Alec was having a hard enough time breathing. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to spare any oxygen to ask Magnus out on a date.

Not without dying.

But if Magnus ended up turning him down, maybe dying really wasn’t so bad.

“Alec...there you are.” Magnus was already smiling up at him. “I was worried you wouldn’t be in today. I...um...I really like...having your assistance.”

Alec anxiously giggled—

Fucking giggled—

Before letting out a shaky breath. “What did you...need assistance with...today, Magnus?”

“It’s kind of a weird question...” Magnus took a few seconds to continue on with his thoughts. “But...would you happen to have any...tiny fridges? Like...something that could fit inside a dollhouse?”

“Oh yeah, we have plenty of plastic accessories—”

“Oh. No. Not plastic. It needs to...um...it needs to actually work. Like. Something that could actually keep food...chilled.” Magnus glanced away from Alec—

And Alec’s own confusion soon showed on his face. “So, you’re looking for a...tiny fridge...that actually...works?”

“Right.”

“But...dolls don’t need to...eat...” Alec was still obviously puzzled. “I don’t quite understand. Is your son trying to put real food in Barbie’s fridge or something?”

“I don’t have a son.”

“Oh...” Alec subtly nodded in understanding. “So...you’ve just been buying all these toys for...for yourself...Are you a...uh...collector?”

“No.” A strange expression came onto Magnus’ face, as he roughly pursed his lips. “It’s just...I...I wish I could explain it to you, Alec, but it’s so—”

“For God’s sake, Magnus! Just tell the boy that you screwed up one of your spells!”

“Did you just...Did you just hear something?” Alec’s eyes went wide, as he looked around the room for the source of the previous phrase. “Um—”

“Magnus! Please! This exchange will go much smoother if you just admit the truth! He’s obviously smitten with you, don’t blow it by making him think you’re a complete loon!”

“Is that...was that...Did that come from your...pocket?” Alec quietly pointed towards the side of Magnus’ pants. “Is there...is there someone on speaker on your phone or something—”

Ragnor, who was currently about five inches tall, now forcefully poked his head through the lining of Magnus’ pocket—

And Alec struggled to suppress a primal scream.

“What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?” Alec whispered his curses, while also repeatedly forming the Sign of The Cross over his chest. “What the hell, Magnus? What the hell is that?”

“Careful, boy! I’m a person, just like you.” Ragnor’s voice was low with warning. “A very powerful person, actually, until my friend here, Magnus, convinced me to volunteer for one of his spells. I should’ve known better, the man hasn’t practiced his magic in centuries! But I still let him use me as a veritable guinea pig. Go on, Magnus, tell the boy what you were trying to accomplish with your magic.”

“I...was trying to change his outfit...” Magnus mumbled through the admission.

“I’m not sure the boy heard you, Magnus.”

“I was trying to change his outfit!” Magnus uttered a bit louder this time, before letting out a deep sigh. “I...Alec, it’s all just so stupid—”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid, Magnus.” Ragnor turned his body, until he was able to face Alec’s own. “My boy, ever since my friend has laid his eyes on you, he’s been positively enchanted by you. But he thought you wouldn’t be interested, what with your sense of impeccable style and flawless hair—”

“You think my hair is flawless?” Alec quietly directed the question to Magnus.

“I think everything about you is flawless.” Magnus’ response was earnest—

And Alec’s face lit up with a wide grin.

“As I was saying!” Ragnor grunted from his place in Magnus’ pocket. “My dear friend assumed that his own lack of fashion sense would make him unpalatable to your tastes, and so, he crafted a simple spell for dressing himself better. However, since he wanted to get it just right, he asked for my assistance, a stand-in, if you will. And...well...here we are.”

Ragnor motioned a hand across his tiny frame. “And here we’ll be, for at least another month and a half. Which is why I truly need that miniature fridge, my boy. Taking such small bites out of rather large foods is such a tiring task.”

“I don’t...I don’t think we have any...uh...small fridges...” Alec began to respond to Ragnor, still having to suppress his urge to scream. “But...I know a nerd! I know a nerd who probably owes me one for ruining my reputation. She’d, maybe, love to help you two figure this thing out?”

“Ah, yes. A nerd. She sounds lovely!” Ragnor smiled up at Alec. “If I trusted Magnus’ magic, I’d just have him shrink a regular fridge down to size, but I wouldn’t want it exploding or becoming sentient.”

“How many times do I have to apologize...” Magnus groaned, before shaking his pocket—

Which caused Ragnor to retreat back into its lining.

“You’re taking all this pretty well, Alec.” Magnus hesitantly made eye contact by looking above him. “Are you...Are you feeling okay?”

“I think someone put LSD in my water bottle.” Alec nodded along with his words. “I didn’t plan on getting super fucking high at work today, but that’s life, right? You win some, you lose some—”

“You’re not high, Alec.” Magnus slightly smirked. “What you saw is very real. I...well...I’m a...warlock.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m a warlock. I have magical powers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know, warlocks? Witches? Pointy hats? Borderline offensive Halloween costumes?”

“I don’t understand.”

Magnus finally let out a breath through gritted teeth. “Harry Potter.”

“Ohhhhh.” Alec smiled back at Magnus. “Cool, cool, cool. So, do you wanna’ like, go out on a date? Or nah?”

“You’re asking me out on a date? Right after...that?”

“Listen, I’ll be honest with you, Magnus. I’m still 98% sure that I’m high as balls right now. And usually, when I’m sober, I’m a very confident person, but you make me nervous as fuck and I could never ask you out if I wasn’t under the influence...so...yeah...” Alec smiled at Magnus again. “I’m asking you out right now. Do you wanna’ go out with me? Or maybe we can just go make out in the stock room?”

“I actually have a client to attend to this afternoon...” Magnus’ response trailed off, before he took a step closer to Alec. “But we can always reschedule making out for another time? And we can schedule that date for tomorrow night, if you’d like?”

“I’d like that very much.” Alec grabbed onto Magnus’ palms, soon giving them a gentle squeeze—

And Magnus, in turn, nonchalantly interlaced their fingers. “What time do you get off work? I can pick you up, maybe take you to this Italian place down the street—”

“Magnus, please! Just get the boy’s number and return us to the loft! Traveling in your pocket is most uncomfortable!”

“Little pocket dude is right. If you have a client, you should probably head back.” Alec sighed, as he let go of Magnus’ hands. “Can I just text you?”

“Of course. My number is N-O-H-A-R-R-Y.”

“Magnus Bane, what did Harry Potter ever do to you?” Alec laughed, while slightly adjusting his nametag. “Ugh. I should probably get back to work, too. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay.” Magnus didn’t move an inch, as he continued to stare over at Alec—

And Alec returned the concentrated gaze. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. You’re just...so...you.” Magnus openly smiled—

And Alec quickly returned the expression. “You’re just so, you, too. Now, go on, get.”

Before Magnus was even a few feet out of the store’s front door, Alec was already hunched over his phone and shooting off a string of instant messages to Maia:

PrinceOfParties: I think someone spiked my water bottle with LSD

PrinceOfParties: can you google if that’s possible

PrinceofParties: I was talking to a little man in Magnus’ pocket

BlackWonderWoman: Alec what the fuck are you talking about? If you’re high you should just go home early

BlackWonderWoman: And is “little man” code for Magnus’ dick? Did you see Magnus’ dick today?

PrinceofParties: no he had a pocket man!!! he was really little and kinda’ mean

PrinceofParties: OH AND I asked Magnus out!!! He’s taking me out tomorrow!!!

BlackWonderWoman: FUCK YES I TOLD YOU TO JUST BE YOURSELF

PrinceofParties: can you come pick me up? I don’t think I should drive

PrinceofParties: I wanna’ start getting ready for my date

BlackWonderWoman: But isn't your date tomorrow night??? Alec it’s like 1PM

PrinceofParties: please? : (

BlackWonderWoman: Alright! Fine! I’ll be right there.

THE END! ALSO ENJOY THIS BANNER I MADE FOR LITERALLY NO REASON L O L

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