#my queer mantra
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my greatest act of rebellion will be surviving in this world. to be openly myself, no matter what. if I am ridiculed or threatened or beaten or killed I will do so with pride and as myself. I would rather die at the hands of another than take away the chance to be an example of trans joy and queer happiness and survival in the face of those who wish me dead. if they hate me for it, so be it. I’d rather be a victim on a list than a singularity in a void. let me lead by example and have the courage to do so. I am an unrelenting force, I will not be silenced. they will fear me because of my unwavering dedication to hope and love and survival.
I will not be beaten down by this world. I will not be beaten down by this world. I will not be beaten down by this world.
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good toys don't think. i don't think. good toys don't think. i don't think. good toys don't think. i don't think. good toys don't think. i don't think.
hard cnc/misogyny/detrans/etc. blogs DNFI
#queer nsft#nsft#sub nsft#bi nsft#wlw nsft#wren speaking!#this has been one of my edging mantras lately i rrlllyyy like it#dumbification
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I want to kiss someoneeeeeeee
#yearning hours#it just seems so nice i want to experience it#and with someone i like and enjoy the company of and feel safe with#repeating the mantra that 20 years old is still young in my head#being a late bloomer is not a bad or shameful thing#and also#20 IS STILL YOUNG#ITS TOTALLY NORMAL TO NEVER HAVE KISSED SOMEONE AT 20 AND IM SICK OF ACTING LIKE ITS NOT#not that anyone is shaming me its all internalized babeyyyy#lesbian#queer#cloudy rambles
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“I don’t see color” moms + “I don’t care if you’re gay, as long as you’re not bothering me” dads
#to be clear#if you’re not Seeing Color then you’re not acknowledging racial inequality or issues specific to poc#and saying As Long As Ur Not Bothering me implies that gays are gonna sexually harass you or smth#and also that talking about queer struggles by itself would bother you so they need to just shut up about it#just in case anyone didn’t get it#this is the mantra of older suburban neolibs and ‘socially tolerant’ moderates of both parties#lots of political posts lately but in my defence I did warn you guys in my bio#neolibs#neoliberals#moderates#political#political memes
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i need to have sex with someone who doesn't have cptsd /Lh
#i have a lot of nickels is all /ref#this post is about queer sex#i keep thinking this but don't think my partners need me to say it to them necessarily lol#i am not going to go into detail (mantra)#i just want to experience uncomplicated sex there's no shade for my lovers who need accommodations#i just want to not be super hypervigilant and abruptly end things as much#mine#don't be mean on this post
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damn I forgot that I spent the morning on the phone w my bank trying to get what is likely a scam charge to go through so that my package can be delivered (I know I'm likely being scammed but I'm so fucking medicine anxious that I took the risk) and I won't know the result until tomorrow and I'm so anxious about it I just completely blocked that out
#plus something else happened which made my brain snap#and i dissociated for hours#fell asleep#woke and sobbed for an hour and discouated for another#and then decided to do QUEER DISCOURSE BC IM SMART AND HEALTHY#whatever ive been being so good i deserve a breakdown#trying is so hard#and i felt an Emotion today which i havent felt in months leave me alone#ik it means therapy is working but i have NO idea how im meant to deal w this#i only felt like half of that i know#TIPS didnt work i did paired muscle relaxation and breathing and stuff#was too weak to get out of bed#to do anything else#i tried my best#thats all i can do#(always mantra)#idk why im postinf this im just trying to tether myself i think#this is real im real i felt those things and other people DO exist
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Thank you so much, everyone, for sharing your experiences! Your last paragraph is my feeling exactly!
I take a lot of pride from my singing voice, and I was worried that losing a high register would make me a worse singer...
Thank you, everyone, for showing me that its not what I lose, but what I gain. And anything lost can be regained with hard work and vocal training. 💜
Hi Dave! I noticed in a previous post of yours that you sing alto in a choir!
If you feel comfortable answering, how has hrt effected your singing voice?
I am also an alto that can range from a high F to most of the tenor range, and I am very interested in starting testosterone. Being as I sing in a semi-professional capacity, Im worried that if I start T I will lose my range that i know my director relies on.
Have you noticed a large difference in your vocal range since starting T? Have you dropped any high notes or gained any low ones?
No pressure to answer, its just always nice to see fellow trans mascs in choirs. 💜
hi! i actually sing bass, not alto!
before T, i sang soprano (though i did expand down to a low alto/high tenor range just from practice and a bit of help training from my choir director at the time)
after going on T, my voice completely switched from soprano to bass. i lost my high range; my mid range lowered, and i gained a low range.
its also worth noting that there was a period during the shift where my voice hadnt settled yet, and it could be frustrating to try and sing; it cracked and squeaked and was generally inconsistent
i didnt sing professionally or anything and just rolled with the change, so i dont have any particular advice on that front? i sang in choirs before, during, and since, but only ever recreationally.
(i can say that my singing voice was a big part of my identity, and i was scared about it changing and prepared to grieve it. however, i ended up not really feeling that way; i love my bass voice and get a huge amount of euphoria from it!)
#repeating this like a mantra#really thabk you everyone so much#i have a few fellow queers in choir but they are all very fem aligned#and my director is as supportive as a 60 yr old baptist can be#he doesnt understand pronouns but he always uses the right names#he might be upset he losing one of his best altos#but i dont think hed pass up on more low voices to support the bass section#i have asked if i could be moved to tenor YEARS ago#and he lamented that my alto tone was too rich to be lost from the section#but that was back when all of the altos were shy ass homeschooled kids#now we have people that know what theyre doing and im not section leader anymore so the section isnt relying on just me#really thank you#this has helped immensely#mc og
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Some U.S. election news updates (as of afternoon November 7, 2024):
Many states, including major battleground ones, have started recounting votes on their own despite there still being no national call for a recount. Some of these states recounting or considering recounting as of November 7, 2024 include: Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Nevada, Arizona (considering), and Texas (considering).
Most news outlets have been covering state laws regarding recounts and what a recount could mean. Notably, right-wing sources like Fox News have not mentioned the possibility of a recount or the high demand for one (hmmm).
In cities such as Chicago and Philadelphia, people took to the streets in a peaceful protest to demand a recount (wait, you can protest peacefully?? without starting an insurrection?? Crazy).
More information alleging Trump cheating has come forward, although many people are expressing their frustrations over there being little to no coverage of election interference by the mainstream media. Additionally, many Democratic voters are vowing to boycott news sources such as CNN and MSNBC due to their apparent tone-deaf and lackluster response to the allegations.
On Twitter, hashtags such as “Do Not Concede Kamala,” “Recount 2024,” “He/Trump Cheated,” and “Rigged” continue to trend nationally since election night.
Also in the Twitter hellscape, Elon Musk has been removing posts with resources, posts alleging Trump cheated, and posts with information on how to check your ballot and demand a recount. This is awfully suspicious and concerning behavior from someone who has also been accused of bribing voters, which is a federal crime.
Many people are also sharing their grief over the extreme likelihood of programs and services such as Social Security, Medicare, SNAP, the Department of Education, and others being diminished or fully gutted as many Republican lawmakers and Trump have promised to do. Already today (Nov. 7), House Republicans have proposed a bill that would reduce social security payments for U.S.Americans who receive disability benefits or a pension.
There are also concerns over imposed tariffs, the United States losing its NATO membership, and the potential dissolving of the United Nations.
Many MAGA Trump supporters have started to be more emboldened, not just in the Twitter space. Multiple parents have come forward to share that young boys at their children’s schools have also begun repeating the “your body, my choice” mantra, leaving other kids in distress.
Speaking of distress, nationwide, queer and trans people have been largely absent from work and school. Since election night, LGBTQ+ and other helplines have had long waits due to such high demand.
TW: suicide mention, skip the next paragraph
There’s been over 2000+ suicides of just LGBTQ+ individuals since election night and the numbers keep increasing drastically.
End TW
Politically, sitting President Joe Biden addressed the nation today to discuss a “peaceful transfer of power.” He addressed people questioning Donald Trump’s win and the election system saying: “It is honest, it is fair, and it is transparent, and it can be trusted, win or lose."
Needless to say, no one was pleased by his response and are still demanding an investigation or recount.
Other political figures such as Bernie Sanders and the Obamas’ released their own statements regarding the election.
The Obamas’ had a very professional yet disappointed statement.
Bernie Sanders however, took a different approach, sharing the mass sentiment among democratic voters and criticizing the Democratic Party based on their response to the situation. “It should come as no great surprise that a Democratic Party which has abandoned working class people would find that the working class has abandoned them. While the Democratic leadership defends the status quo, the American people are angry and want change. And they’re right.”
[ID:
Multiple videos and images with election news and updates.
The first video, posted to Twitter, is of an Anti-Trump protest in Chicago.
These should be peacefully taking place all over the country. This is what democracy is about, not storming Capitol buildings. Right MAGA? pic.twitter.com/lgzsP41Lze — Brian Krassenstein (@krassenstein) November 7, 2024.
The video shows people in the streets of Chicago and in front of Trump tower peacefully protesting in demand for a recount and investigation.
Protesters chants include:
“Donald Trump, you will see!”
“Racist, sexist, anti-gay! Donald Trump, go away!”
and “You’re not welcome in this town! Donald Trump, you fascist clown!”
The second video was also posted to Twitter by CALL TO ACTIVISM (@CalltoActivism) on November 6, 2024. It’s a video from MSNBC reporting on the strange behavior of Trump leading up to the election where he repeatedly said he didn't need votes. These statements seem to imply that regardless of how people voted, he expected to gain power.
The next image is of the official statement regarding the election results by Barack and Michelle Obama.
The statement reads:
STATEMENT BY PRESIDENT AND MRS. OBAMA ON THE 2024 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION NOVEMBER 6, 2024
“Over the last few weeks and through Election Day, millions of Americans cast their votes - not just for president, but for leaders at every level. Now the results are in, and we want to congratulate President Trump and Senator Vance on their victory. This is obviously not the outcome we had hoped for, given our profound disagreements with the Republican ticket on a whole host of issues. But living in a democracy is about recognizing that our point of view won't always win out, and being willing to accept the peaceful transfer of power. Michelle and I could not be prouder of Vice President Harris and Governor Walz - two extraordinary public servants who ran a remarkable campaign. And we will always be grateful to the staff and volunteers who poured their heart and soul into electing public servants they truly believed in. As I said on the campaign trail, America has been through a lot over the last few years - from a historic pandemic and price hikes resulting from the pandemic, to rapid change and the feeling a lot of folks have that, no matter how hard they work, treading water is the best they can do. Those conditions have created headwinds for democratic incumbents around the world, and last night showed that America is not immune. The good news is that these problems are solvable - but only if we listen to each other, and only if we abide by the core constitutional principles and democratic norms that made this country great. In a country as big and diverse as ours, we won't always see eye-to-eye on everything. But progress requires us to extend good faith and grace - even to people with whom we deeply disagree. That's how we've come this far, and it's how we'll keep building a country that is more fair and more just, more equal and more free.”
The last two images are Bernie Sanders’ statement on the election results, criticizing the response of the Democratic Party.
Sanders’ statement reads:
NEWS: Sanders Statement on the Results of the 2024 Presidential Election November 6, 2024 BURLINGTON, Vt. - Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) today released the following statement in response to the outcome of the 2024 presidential election:
“It should come as no great surprise that a Democratic Party which has abandoned working class people would find that the working class has abandoned them. First, it was the white working class, and now it is Latino and Black workers as well. While the Democratic leadership defends the status quo, the American people are angry and want change. And they're right. Today, while the very rich are doing phenomenally well, 60% of Americans live paycheck to paycheck and we have more income and wealth inequality than ever before. Unbelievably, real, inflation-accounted-for weekly wages for the average American worker are actually lower now than they were 50 years ago. Today, despite an explosion in technology and worker productivity, many young people will have a worse standard of living than their parents. And many of them worry that Artificial Intelligence and robotics will make a bad situation even worse. Today, despite spending far more per capita than other countries, we remain the only wealthy nation not to guarantee health care to all as a human right and we pay, by far, the highest prices in the world for prescription drugs. We, alone among major countries, cannot even guarantee paid family and medical leave. Today, despite strong opposition from a majority of Americans, we continue to spend billions funding the extremist Netanyahu government's all out war against the Palestinian people which has led to the horrific humanitarian disaster of mass malnutrition and the starvation of thousands of children. Will the big money interests and well-paid consultants who control the Democratic Party learn any real lessons from this disastrous campaign? Will they understand the pain and political alienation that tens of millions of Americans are experiencing? Do they have any ideas as to how we can take on the increasingly powerful Oligarchy which has so much economic and political power? Probably not. In the coming weeks and months those of us concerned about grassroots democracy and economic justice need to have some very serious political discussions. Stay tuned.”
/end ID]
#long post#updates#us politics#us news#us elections#election news#2024 presidential election#2024 election#us election#election interference#election security#kamala harris#election integrity#donald trump#elon musk#image description in alt#image described#image description included#image desc in alt text#image description added#described
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A little mantra a like to remind myself :)
#grow through what you go through#positive mental attitude#mantra#personal mantra#positive#mental health quotes#my art hehe#my art 2022#my art i guess#mental health awareness#mental growth#growth#groovy#queer artist#queer artwork#bi pride#progress over perfection#overcome#my life#mental illness#mental wellness#mental wellbeing#etsy#small art blog#small artist#2022#i’m just a baby#i’m just a little guy#support#i love frogs
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Eyes wide, body frigid in terror, Eddie felt the sheer horror of the current situation sank in.
He was at Gen Con.
In their hotel.
With zero vacant rooms and one minor, Henderson created, screw up.
The room only had one bed in it.
“It’s fine, we can share.” Steve said, brushing past.
Like this was not the life ending, earth shattering, soul rendering issue that it was.
“I can sleep on the floor.” Eddie croaked trying to remember how a normal person acted instead of someone whose stomach had just fallen out of their ass.
“Nah, I did this all the time with the basketball team.” Steve said as Eddie actively regretted every single decision that had led to this point in his life.
“Hell this is even a king sized bed. We have plenty of space!”
Steve did a goofy little spin jump, landing butt first on the bed and bouncing on it with glee.
“Space, sure.” Eddie echoed.
Hands shaking, eyes determinedly focused on anything but the ex-jock, Eddie found himself chanting a mantra over and over in his head.
One that would valiantly get him through the next weekend, God and D20's willing.
'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'
“I don’t have cooties, if that's what you're worried about.”” Steve waggled his eyebrows. "Here, I’ll even let you have one of my pillows.”
Said pillow was flung through the air, to smack Eddie dead in the face.
'Fuck it." Eddie thought wildly. "I am NOT fine!'
And after Eddie got his hands on him, Dustin Henderson wouldn't be either.
xXx
“I am going to kill you.” Eddie snarled, the very second he could get Dustin alone.
“No you won’t, you love me too much.” Henderson dismissed, a smug little smirk in place.
The absolute brat.
“I do not, and if I did, I would take it back after this.” Eddie glanced around once again, beyond paranoid about discussing this in the open parking lot of a shitty hotel, but knowing he needed to get this under control, now.
“What were you thinking!?”
“That I read a really interesting zine about this exact scenario, mostly.” Dustin shrugged. “Worked out great for them, I thought I’d try it for you!”
Eddie groaned, head flying back as he fisted both hands in his hair.
(if only to prevent himself from wrapping both hands around Dustin’s stupid throat.)
“What did I tell you? This isn’t something you fuck with man!”
“I know, but as I told you, Steve is perfect!” Dustin protested, and didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Eddie lost control and grabbed him by the collar.
“Perfect!?” He sputtered, actually sputtered, shaking the fist that held Dustin's shirt captive. “Perfect!?”
“Trust me on this--you have a crush on him, he desperately needs someone in his life--seriously, Eddie, it’s sad how he acts when he’s not dating--and you guys get along great now! What’s the problem!?”
“He’s straight!” Eddie shrieked, startling several onlookers.
“Laced!” He added immediately after, in panicked afterthought. “He’s so straight laced we could never get him to agree to that plan!”
Dustin leveled an unimpressed look at him.
“Dude, really?”
“We are still in Indiana, Henderson.” Eddie said, then got close enough that he felt comfortable hissing the next part through clenched teeth.
“They don’t exactly care for the queers here, even at a place like this.”
“Are you sure? Because the Con’s welcome packet has a few different panels that--”
Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face, letting go of his idiot, freshman friend's shirt to grab at his hair again.
“Henderson, for once,” He pleaded, and maybe it was the sheer desperation in his tone or how upset he looked but either way Dustin seemed to finally realize how serious he was.
“just once, I need you to listen to me. You cannot let Steve know I’m gay. This is something that has to stay between us, especially now I’m sharing a bed with him.”
Which Dustin knew, because Dustin was the one who’d called and changed the room.
“But Steve’s--”
“Most likely bisexual, I heard you the first several times you said it, but you can’t just--assume that about someone!” Eddie was well and good on a rant now, two seconds away from pacing about. “Even if you’ve been to a salon with them!”
He pointed firmly at Dustin’s stupid face (and the kid's equally stupid mouth) before he could once again insist Steve was into men purely based on how anal he was about his hair.
“Steve might be cool with--other people,” Eddie was unsure of who knew what about Robin, and was not about to hand Dustin another secret given how he was acting about this one, “but that does not mean he will be cool with me--or you, pimping him out, to me!”
“I’m not pimping him out!” Offended, Dustin patted at his shirt where Eddie had previously been holding it. “Look I’m sorry, but--”
Eddie groaned, loud and dramatic.
“But,” Dustin doubled down, “You trusted me with the whole, you know.” He waved his hands in some sort of vague, unreadable gesture. “Can’t you trust me about this?”
“I didn’t trust you with that, you barged into my room and then dug around my closet insisting your character notes got mixed in with mine when I was hi-sleeping!--and then read something personal!”
The snort he got in return let him know Dustin was well aware he’d been high as hell, but that was neither here nor there, given what had happened after.
When Dustin, rifling through Eddie’s closet, came across one of Eddie’s private notebooks.
The ones that contained equally private stories, penned by Eddie's hand.
One of which might have had characters--who did not sound like Steve, thank you,-- and definitely not paired with a character based on Eddie himself.
(“So Sir Sylvan Harrachtáin and Edwin Morningson are random names you pulled out of your ass, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Sir Sylvan with his great hair and--what’s this? A horse named…Beamer?”
“Henderson so help me--” )
It may have led to the two of them growing closer instead of Eddie getting chased out of town with pitchforks, but that hadn’t stopped the sheer panic it had caused when he realized just what it was Dustin was reading.
“Potato, tomato.” The little shit dismissed, and Eddie felt the urge to strangle him return in full force. “Look I get it--I promised I wouldn’t tell and I keep my promises. But since there aren’t any other rooms in our inn…”
Eddie looked at the sky, because if he saw the little dipshit wiggle his eyebrows in relation to himself and Steve Harrington, his new friend, who baked cookies with Jeff and once helped Grant jump his car, Eddie was going to lose his mind.
Loudly, and with much fanfare.
“You owe me. Big time.” He declared to the clouds.
He pretended not to hear the sigh that got him, either.
“If you so say. Now can we go to the convention?" A whine crept into Henderson's voice. "Steve’s going to think we’re fighting.”
"Fine.” Eddie finally lowered his head to glare Dustin dead in the eyes.
“But to make my ire clear, Henderson? That magic sword your dwarf just acquired is gone. Disappeared. Vanished like a puff of smoke."
He made a ‘proof’ noise, hands spreading out as he did it.
Dustin’s jaw dropped.
“What!? Eddie--”
“Nope.
“Edd-iieeeee--”
“I’m not listening.” He plunged both fingers in his ears, walking determinedly towards one of the other three hotel rooms Hellfire had crammed themselves in.
Wished desperately that he could manage to swap beds with Jeff, or Grant, or someone without making Steve feel like shit--which it would, because Eddie knew things like that about Steve now.
Behind him Dustin rampaged, which at least, made Eddie a little happier.
xXx
“We can switch rooms.”
“What?” Eddie asked, startled out of his present thoughts (and the giant pile of D&D related papers spread in a circle around him.)
He turned to look up at Steve, who was hovering awkwardly behind him.
“You’ve been weird ever since you realized we’re sharing a bed. If it’s making you that uncomfortable we can just switch.” He shrugged, like saying that didn’t hurt him, even as the kicked puppy look holding court on his face very much screamed ‘emotional damage.’
"I have not!” Eddie twisted himself around immediately. "I am perfectly fine, thank you!"
Steve frowned down at him.
“Eddie, this is the longest conversation I’ve had with you since we got here." Steve deadpanned. "I’d blame that on the whole, you know, nerd herd gathering, but it’s pretty clear that’s not it. I watched you literally turn around and walk the other way when you spotted me earlier."
Shit.
"It's kinda obvious you're avoiding me."
Shit, shit, shit!
“I'm not, promise!" Eddie lied. "I’m just--distracted. There’s just so much happening and it’s--a lot.”
He said it like the con was overwhelming, and not chaos he was positively thriving in.
Steve searched his face.
“Alright," He said doubtfully, "but I mean it. Say the word and we can switch. I'm sure Jeff'll let me share a blanket or something."
Which was the last thing anybody needed, on grounds that Jeff would try and fix things.
(Jeff, bless him, had never been good at fixing things.)
Drumming up every acting skill he possessed, Eddie flashed two thumbs up in response, painting a fat grin on his face.
“We're all good Stevie. Besides, I’m going to be up late at so many panels, you won’t even notice me coming back. You're practically gonna have the room to yourself!"
Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, the second he realized the convention itself could provide a nice, neat little way out in the form of two different late night panels.
Who needed sleep anyway? Not him!
"Okay." Steve said, somewhat mollified.
Crisis averted, Eddie dove back into his plans, distracting himself as best he could while trying to ignore that Steve had dropped onto the bed.
(One of those plans might have involved revenge on Henderson, and that one he gave special attention to.)
xXx
There were no late nigh panels.
“Not until tomorrow, my friend!” The jovial guy dressed in what Eddie was pretty sure was supposed to be a wizard costume told him. “We had a few but the folks running them got stuck in traffic, so we had to cancel."
He beamed, like he hadn’t just disintegrated Eddie's one and only escape plan.
"Besides, if you go to sleep now you can catch some of the early morning panels!”
As if he hadn't planned on rolling into them anyway, lack of sleep be damned.
“Can we go back now?” Gareth grumped to his right, the only person who’d agreed to stay out all night with him (and who was not a 14 year old who’d been overruled by Harrington.)
"We could go find a room party?" Eddie hedged instead, as they made their retreat.
"Dude."
"Fine," He muttered, defeated. "We can go back."
To Steve.
And the single bed.
In his head, he plotted out Henderson's death.
Maybe he'd use fire.
Or sticks, or even a fricken--toy horse, or something...
xXx
He'd done it.
Changed into the oversized shirt he called sleep clothes, and crawled into bed like a completely normal, totally straight human being.
Had even done a remarkable job of laying perfectly still. Exactly how a normal, not panicking person slept!
'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'
Steve was laying next to him.
He had to of course, that's how a bed worked, and yet somehow, Eddie couldn't get past it.
Or the fact that the dick wasn't wearing a shirt to bed.
His thoughts chased each other in nervous little circles, anxiety gnawing on his gut like a favored bone as Eddie did his best not to move one single inch.
Pity that the thing about attending a large convention, was the sheer amount of walking, talking, and expending general energy one had to do.
Entirely against his will, Eddie fell asleep.
He had been planning on laying awake in frigid terror all night, to prevent any possible way Steve might clock him, but his body had other plans.
Some of which involved sleeping like Eddie normally slept--arms hugging a pillow, head buried in it's soft, comfortable, kinda ticklish surface.
He rubbed his nose further into it as the tickling sensation increased, pulling him away from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.
Grumbling, Eddie went to adjust his stupid pillow when he had the weirdest realization that it too, was moving.
Pillows, his sleep addled brain informed him, did not move.
Steve would, though.
"Fuck!" He screeched, flying up into a sitting position as he registered that he'd gone full octopus--cuddling Steve with all four limbs.
Steve flew awake, his own body flying up into a sitting position.
His mouth started moving a mile a minute, and it took Eddie a second to parse that Steve was still partially asleep as he let out a string of absolute nonsense about code reds and being upside down.
"Whoa!" Eddie said when the guy nearly fell out of bed. "Shit Steve, it's just me!"
"Eddie?" Steve asked, halfway out of bed. "Are we--is everything okay?"
"Yeah I--yeah." He grimaced, grabbing a strand of his hair and pulling it protectively over his face. "I think I woke you up."
"S'okay." Steve ran a hand through his hair, before slowly sinking back into the bed, alarm fading. "Are you okay? Nightmare?"
Eddie blew out a breath.
"Probably. It's fine, don't worry about it."
Steve eyed him doubtfully.
"If you're sure..."
Eddie gave him a wobbly smile back, patting the space on the bed next to him as he made himself lay back down. "Promise. I'm--I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should have slept elsewhere..."
That did it.
"You're good. Startled me is all." Steve let out a sort of forced chuckle before laying back down. "I overreacted."
Eddie hummed, not trusting himself to say anything as the two of them settled back down.
It did not escape him that unlike most people who'd been rudely woken up in the middle of the night, Steve didn't try to keep any distance between them.
No, he had to scoot closer, like he needed to know his friend was near.
Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for death.
"I get nightmares too, sometimes." Steve admitted in the following quiet and oh, God, no, Eddie could not do an emotional late night talk right now.
"They definitely suck." He said flatly, before rolling over to face the opposing wall. "Night Stevie."
Steve snorted, but it sounded amused instead of hurt.
Eddie sighed quietly in relief as he too, turned away to face the wall.
He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up and fall asleep again, and everything would be...
Perfectly...
...fine.
xXx
"--ddie, you're on my arm man."
"Wha?"
"My arm." That was Steve, Eddie's brain dutifully identified as it crawled it's way to consciousness. Steve who was his friend now, and was also talking very close to his ear.
"Also my leg. And torso."
"You have a nice torso." Eddie mumbled thoughtlessly.
Why was Steve here? They were doing something that should have been stressing him out, was stressing him out, but it was hard to think when he was this tired.
"Thanks," Amusement threaded it's way through Steve's voice, "but I'm going numb here. You have a hell of a grip."
Eddie frowned, the words sludging through the fog, until finally, the dots connected.
Eyes opening wide, he carefully took stock of the position he once again found himself in--wrapped around Steve like the guy was the only life raft left.
Oh my God.
"Shit sorry--" Steve oof'ed as Eddie smacked an elbow into his ribs as he let the poor man go, madly scrambling to get as far away as possible.
He tried to apologize for that, but was too busy fighting the bedsheets to get anything out.
"Eds." Steve laughed, grabbing him as Eddie tangled them both up. "Calm down."
"I'm calm!" He protested, far too loudly, limbs flying every which way as he tried in vein to get the fuck away.
Stupid sheets-!
"Eddie." Two heavy hands came down on his shoulders, Steve having managed to get himself into a sitting position. "It's alright."
"It's not Steve." Eddie spat, and then panicked harder because fuck, that is not what he should have said.
"Hey, easy." Steve was talking quieter now, hands squeezing gently, like Eddie was some kind of spooked wild animal and fuck, he was really losing it here.
"I mean it. We're at the convention, remember? We're sharing a hotel room and you have a bunch of dorks and dumbass things to do in like, two hours."
Eddie violently shrugged him off.
"I know that!"
Steve, somehow, did not take offense to the very aggressive tone that had been snarled in.
"Then you know you can breath for a moment. Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out."
Which was probably true, given the rapid, rabbiting beat of his heart.
"Is this what you were worried about?" Steve added, as Eddie finally freed himself from the damn sheets. "That you have nightmares?"
“It's not nightmares.” Eddie spat instantly, chest heaving.
His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he was exhausted to the point where he wanted to cry about it.
God did being gay suck.
“Then--what? That you cuddle in your sleep?” Steve was teasing, Eddie knew Steve was teasing but that was too on the nose. “Dude trust me, Tommy was an octopus growing up. I don’t care.”
“No it’s not, that, exactly--”
"So what is it then, exactly?"
Too. Fucking. Close.
"Drop it Steve--"
Emotions rose like a tidal wave, all encompassing. Overwhelming.
"I would if you weren't clearly upset about something--"
He lost control.
“I’m gay!” Eddie yelled.
Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just panicked himself out of the closet.
It died.
The crazy, huge emotions. The way he'd been fighting himself, tooth and nail, the panicked thoughts that were zooming around his brain.
“I didn’t say that.” He said, eyes wide.
Steve blinked.
“I mean, you kinda did.”
Eddie shook his head.
“Nope. No. I said, I said--”
“That you’re gay.” Steve finished, then frowned when Eddie flinched. “Dude it’s okay--”
“Is it, Steve!?” He interrupted, hand finally falling from his mouth. “Is it? Because if you ask half the people at this convention--who are my kind of people and understand I’m not shilling souls to satan--if it's okay!? They'd say no!"
Tears pressed against his eyes, a reaction he hated that he had.
"They'd say no, and then they'd try to kick my ass for sleeping in the same bed as them!"
A tear escaped and he swiped angrily at it.
“I’m okay with it.” Steve said quietly, which had the effect of making Eddie shut up. “And those people suck.”
The laugh that escaped Eddie's mouth was brittle.
Bitter.
He turned his head away from Steve, angry that he’d gone and admitted the very thing he knew better than ever speaking aloud.
“Yeah well, I didn't think you would be, given how you used to accuse anyone and everyone of being a queer loser right along with the rest of the basketball team.”
Which wasn't fair, exactly--Eddie knew Steve had changed. Had seen it in the way he and Robin talked quietly about Will, when they thought no one could overhear.
(A habit Eddie would break them of, if he and Steve made it out of here as friends, still.)
He wasn't Will though, and Will wasn't the one presently sharing a bed with Steve.
“That’s because we were all making out with each other at away games.” It was said so fucking quick Eddie briefly thought he hallucinated it.
Lucky for him, Steve wasn't done.
“Robin thinks that whole thing was some kind of group denial. Like if we made enough of a thing out of it we could all pretend we didn’t have our hands down each others pants all the time. I am not exactly on speaking terms with that group anymore.”
He shrugged like that his fall from grace hadn’t been the center of the rumor mill for most of his senior year, and came with a lot of shit talking at his expense.
“But I can still prove it to you, if you’d like.”
Shock--and six million thoughts-- hit Eddie like a mack truck.
‘You’re lying/No way/that makes so much fucking sense/how did that even start/was it every game/whose pants exactly did you have your hands down and how do you feel about my pants--’
“How?” Eddie got out, sounding only slightly strangled.
“Well--you’re here. I’m here."
And then Steve gave him a smile Eddie had only ever seen aimed at women, a slow lazy curl of the mouth that implied a hell of a lot.
"I'm fine with making the math work."
Maybe he was dreaming this.
(Eddie pinched himself and found that somehow, he was not.)
“I realize I don’t look like it, but I don't the whole casual kissing thing." Eddie blurted out. "Hasn't exactly gone well for me."
He regretted it the second it left his mouth.
That was sharing too much of himself. The vulnerable gooey part who'd kissed a few girls (and even, once, a guy) and found he couldn't for the life of him make such things casual.
Plus Steve was kind of a good friend now, and Eddie had a crush so big that doing this and then never doing it again would kill him, and--
(and, and, and…)
“It can mean something if you’d like.”
What.
“What?”
Eddie stared at him.
Steve stared back.
“Steve Harrington." He said flatly. "Are you trying to get in my pants?”
‘I will rip them off right here and now if you are,’ He thought wildly, like he hadn’t just tried to die on some “it has to be meaningful” hill.
(Sue him, he was a horny teenager who'd just learned sex might be on the table, he could change his mind.
It totally wouldn’t tear his heart apart after either!
Nope, not his, made of steel Eddie’s heart was--)
Steve raised his hands in the “don’t shoot” pose, looking all too pleased with himself.
“Hey, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But,” and here he dropped the flirty little grin, which Eddie was only now realizing he was utilizing, “I meant it. I'm not opposed to trying this out, with you."
Trying? What the hell did that mean!?
Steve hadn't stopped talking.
"I won’t take it anywhere if you don’t want to though, don't worry.
Then he tilted his head and added; “I can also leave if that made you uncomfortable. Robin keeps telling me I can’t flirt with men like I flirt with women and--”
“No.” Eddie’s mouth betrayed him yet again, terrified Steve might talk himself into leaving. “No--you offered!”
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“I did.”
“To have--” God Eddie couldn’t even say the words, “with me?”
Somehow that last part came out as a question, and Eddie planned immediately to throw himself out of a window.
The grin was coming back. “Yes. With you.”
“And it would…mean something?”
That was pushing it, Eddie knew that was pushing it, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.
This whole thing was now a runaway train and he'd ride it to it's inevitable wreck.
“For me it would.” Steve said, raising himself up on his knees.
He inched forward, planting his hands down on the bed, face awfully close to Eddie’s own.
“I don't like doing things anymore without it meaning something. To be honest, I don’t think I ever did. Besides, Robin's right."
"About?" Eddie asked, goin cross-eyed as Steve leaned ever so much closer.
"That when I say I admire you, or I miss you, or that I want to see you, I'm not exactly meaning it in a friend way."
Oh.
"Oh." Eddie said dumbly.
Steve closed the distance, mouth first.
They were kissing.
Stars exploded in the sky. Fireworks went off outside, birds sang, people cheered--
(Eddie bit Steve’s lip, twice, in some sort of overexcited maneuver before he was gently guided into Steve’s lap, the ex-jock twisting to lay back down and bringing Eddie with him.
It was smoothly done, a slow maneuver, and Eddie had to go and ruin that too by ripping his mouth off Steve’s to press sloppy kisses all down his neck.
Thankfully Steve did not shove him off for that, or the hickie he definitely left on that stupid, tan neck, instead arranging them once again until things, finally, started to be less frantic.
It was the best night of Eddie's life.)
xXx
“So what does mean something involve, in this little situation we have here?” Eddie said some odd amount of time later, cuddled happily against a now naked Harrington.
“I’m not supposed to say boyfriends.” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder. “Scares people off."
Apparently he was the type to need naps immediately after having the naked kind of fun.
“Who the fuck told you that?” Eddie reached down, lacing their hands together tightly.
Steve kissed his shoulder.
“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet.” He said, rather than responding directly.
“We can’t, Steve, or did you forget where we live?”
Another kiss, this one turning into a grin when it made Eddie shudder.
“Oh we absolutely can. I’ll prove it to you. Next Friday?”
It took him a moment--a stupidly long moment, for someone who prided himself as a wordsmith--but Eddie got it.
A smile exploded over his face.
“Next Friday." He said. "It’s a date.”
(A very long time later, Henderson would find out about all this and gloat about this so hard he’d fall off the steps of Eddie’s trailer.
Eddie would only let him live on grounds that Steve was also there at the time, and was worried about Dustin’s ankle.
This did not stop Eddie from standing above the little shit, announcing karma would one day get him soon, and if not, than Max Mayfield, who absolutely could be bribed into committing murder.)
This was the bonus for Door Prize/Sugar, Spice (and Everything Dicey) which can be read in it's entirely here: LINK
#one bed trope#door prize#S4 AU#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#0o0 fanfics#stranger things#convention#Dustin Henderson meddles#Eddie has a panic attack#bed sharing#fade to black sex scene
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there is so much embarrassment and shame that can come up after transitioning from a state of constant survival. one of the biggest things personally has been forming my own identity outside of my role as a sister and caretaker. ive been living on my own for two years now and have come into awareness of how much trauma has stifled my growth. three years ago i just woke up and noticed my lack of ability to be in tune with who i am outside of taking care of others. i talk to myself nicer now. baby myself. nurture my inner critic with the words people failed to give me when i was younger
#it can be v isolating to realize how far behind u are because of ur childhood#but personally my mantra is time isn't real#however others constantly project their own shit on me constantly so thats interesting#also! lmao the interactions of a V late bloomer in the queer scene has just been so trifling
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being around a high enough volume of ppl who are openly trans and/or gender noncomforming will rly remind you that a better world is possible because even as a nonbinary person it feels sort of humbling to find urself in a setting where u realize you absolutely cannot lean on the communication crutch of gender roles or cisnormative social cues. like we talk a big game abt not assuming gender with strangers, but we do still default to certain behaviors around ppl who present or otherwise register to us in a certain way, right. and a part of that is social conditioning and a part of that is sort of doing what you need to do to keep yourself safe, to not inadvertently paint a target on your back by possibly offending the sensibilities of a cisgender with your language or mannerisms.
but being in an explicitly trans space gives you a glimpse into a world where life isnt like that, where people engage with each other in a purely gender-ambivalent manner as a default, where gender is something to add to and enhance our modes of self expression and socialization instead of a strict all consuming rulebook that dictates how we are allowed to interact with someone before we even really know a single thing about them. its one thing to believe in a world like that and its another thing to see it and experience it in miniature.
i went to a queer zine fest today and like. i am very bad at talking to ppl and even if i could, a busy loud marketplace with a line forming behind me is not the setting to make conversation but.. waaa!! all the artists were so cool and also just being surrounded by Transgenders is a physically healing experience actually
#ungodly screeching#off topic#transness and gender nonconformity is proof that a better world is possible is my mission statement my mantra my everything#slight side tangent shout out to the older person in line w me at the table of a vendor selling mostly furry art#seeming near moved to tears holding up a specific art print explaining to the vendor that they felt like it perfectly represented them like#they had pulled it out of their own mind#im trying not to make this post much longer than it needs to be considering its off topic for this blog already#but i do think thats like significant. that this wasnt just a queer event or an art event but a queer art event#how needed these forms of expression are! how terribly wondrously vital to creating that dream world!#anyway thats all#goodnight!
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Thinking about We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine today. A duology. WKTD the tells the story of accepting you're queer, framed as a horror story of 3 repressed teenagers at a christian summer camp fighting off their inherent queerness and HWBM tells the story of how one accepts their place in society after embracing their queerness.
WKTD uses magical girl tropes in a fairly grounded Midwestern teen experience.
Magical girl stories often involve the struggle of the forces of Good and Evil. Purity and Impurity. Corruption often being a core theme of any girl squad facing down the nightmarish forces. This can be seen from Madoka's approach to the concept which is often referred to as a deconstruction. The Pink Opaque from I Saw The TV Glow overtly uses these themes in the exact same allegory as WKTD with the evil forces attempting to suppress the queerness of the protagonists.
HWBM uses mech anime tropes in an allegorical wonderland where the setting fades away to have the audience engage with the ideas at play rather than the lore. Mech anime often uses the giant robot duels as a method of visualizing ideological struggles. Too often in these shows beam sabers will cross as the pilots yell at one another to embrace ideas of how the concepts of war and prejudice can be battled out of existence.
In HWBM the "war" in play is humans versus space... or more accurately humans versus those who are not of Earth. Versus those who are alien. Versus those who are not human.
The dominant culture versus queer culture.
WKTD frames its tropes via the dating sim mechanics popular within its visual novel medium. But rather than choosing which of the 3 girls the player wishes to romance you must choose which of the 3 you wish to exclude. The idea being to scapegoat one's struggle with queerness by attacking outward, blaming the other, by shaming others into the closet to keep yourself in there.
Lashing outward to prevent reflecting inward.
The only good ending of the game is to accept a polycule dynamic where everyone is seen, accepted and embraced for who they are unconditionally. God's love, in this world, is conditional and one must always be excluded. The devil has room for three.
There is no room in normal society for a polycule. It is inherently queer. The dominant culture is binary and there's no version of a polycule where only a 0 and a 1 are represented. The binary is incompatible.
I recently told a friend that the duology tells the journey of a thousand miles and how it begins with a single step. WKTD is the story of that first and all too important step acceptance.
HWBM is the story of what comes after acceptance. After that first step.
It tells the story of the thousand mile journey.
The ideologies at play are the concepts of assimilation, activism and separationism. In the allegory Earth/Humanity represents the dominant "straight" society and the three characters represent each of these ideologies. Assimilation is to return to Earth, to integrate into the dominant culture and lose some of the inherent joy and "otherness" that being queer brings. It's no coincidence that the character representing this path is a trans woman who is known for defecting from her faction and crossing over to every other side while repeating the mantra "I've never betrayed anyone in my life", it is a coincidence however that her faction's war efforts are lead in part by God's Strongest Chaser herself (as far as I'm aware the Halimede Twitter Account is not affiliated with the game, but I find it funny that the assimilation path is represented by someone who a character whose gimmick account argues "t4t is incest"). It is a life of peace. But it is a life of compromise. Of giving up humanity's dream of the stars. To be grounded and tethered to Earth forever.
The Activism Path represents the idea of staying in Earth's orbit but never surrendering even an ounce of the queer identity for the sake of acceptance. Forcing the dominant culture to argue with us on our terms. Accept us on our terms. It is a life of constant battle but in that battle we will save those on Earth, invite them into the stars, embrace them with acceptance and love. Let them join us or remain where they are. This is a life of constant war, knowing that until all are loved and accepted, no one is and so we continue fighting. Letting people change sides. Nothing changes but maybe it's better that way.
Separation is the idea of abandoning Earth entirely. To become so incompatible with the dominant culture that we are no longer "human" to those who remain tethered. We are unapproachable. Separate. Unique. Other. Queer above anything else and incapable of creating a rational dialogue with the dominant culture. It is picking up your toys and walking away. Going far enough away from the culture war that it will never be able to reach you.
The author of the Halimede account once wrote, while in character, that this is the saddest ending of them all because it's unsustainable and that it does not address the inherent intersectional fighting between communities, allowing wars to simply break out further away from our blue marble in the distant stars. It is a life of abandoning war without embracing peace. To live separate in bubbles apart.
The ending of the game forces you to pick. There is no existing outside of these options. Maybe one day we'll find other ways to be but within the view of this game they are all we have. Embrace Earth, declare war on Earth or abandon Earth.
Choose.
I admit. Since the pandemic and coming out as trans, I've favored Saturn's ideology more than others. Completely giving up on "humanity" and only working within circles of those whose acceptance of queer culture is baked in. I fought so hard to accept who I was and "know the devil", so to speak, that I pulled back and withdrew.
Both games have a lot of themes about the demons ones must face within queer culture and outside of it. The way we hurt ourselves, hurt our allies and how the world outside societal, structural and individual will force us to compromise, to cut away parts of ourselves.
These games are masterpieces.
I wish I found them earlier in my life. I want everyone able to read these words to find them now.
#camden posting#we know the devil#heaven will be mine#this is my gender and I am proud of it#homerun akemi#there is still time#chicks dig giant robots#media essays#visual novels#ideologically I am Saturn coded but personality wise I'm Luna-Terra all the way
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How to organize your grimoire [upg]
Putting Together Your Grimoire/Book of Shadows
Over my time putting together my grimoire, I’ve seen a lot of different people put together their lists of “everything you need in your grimoire”. While I don’t believe that everyone needs to write a world-renowned magical encyclopedia (see the linked post below by @queer-tech-seer), I do want everyone to have a good idea of where to put the information that they do put in their grimoire.
See this post for how I organize my grimoire
Firstly, you need an introduction section. This goes at the beginning of the book and can include things like:
your devotion to the craft
a short daily mantra
a quick list of your most-accessed info
name the kinds of crafts you practice and focus on
your code of conduct/ethics
a protection spell
your zodiac signs, life number, and tarot card
Second, you need info about your craft. This can be anything like:
lunar magick
nature/green magick
hearth magick
urban magick
crystal magick
You may also want to include activities/interests for each type of magick.
If you’re interested in crystal magick, you should check out my Witchy Boxes! @moonstone-magick
Third, you need your recipes.
spell jars
food and drinks
incense + burn sticks
sachets
even crystal grid patterns, anything with steps!
This post has a few of my favorite recipes
Fourth, you need rituals.
blessings
cleansings
prayers
energy work
sigil spells
Fifth, put any information about the kinds of divination you practice, if any.
tarot
omens
numerology
tasseomancy
cartomancy
psychic abilities
I usually write hedge-riding/astral travel also in this section.
Sixth, write your beliefs.
What specific beliefs you subscribe to
What deities you honor/work with (if any)
Your worldviews
Your thoughts about the creation or the afterlife
And that’s basically it!
Farewell and good tides! 💜
Branwen
Like what you see? Consider supporting me! ko-fi.com/thatdruidgal
#grimoire#witchy things#pagan witch#neurodivergent witches#witch stuff#witchblr#baby witch#witchcraft#beginner witch
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Conquer the Heart
Summary: Joel comes out - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 1: Coming Out Word Count: 3,981 Pairing: Joel Miller x M! Reader Rating: Mature (but my blog is 18+ mdni) Warnings: vague descriptions of sex, fluff, kissing, conversations about sexuality, really that's it this is pretty much just sweet and fluffy with a tiny hint of spice Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar who could have guessed? Love y'all <3 A/N: I just wanted to make Joel queer idk. Title from an Orville Peck song because of course
You don’t know what possessed you to pay the $5 cover to check that place out. The Round-Up Saloon, perched on a street corner in downtown Austin. The outside was unassuming enough, but the neon lights and mechanical bull and rotating dance floor inside made it look like something straight out of Urban Cowboy.
There were all kinds of crowds. College kids and business casuals and actual cowboys. And it’s Austin, so all the sexualities were represented in one way or another as you took note of the couples at tables and on the dance floor. You couldn’t really care about any of them, though, as soon as you laid eyes on him.
You were drawn to him and his broad shoulders and tight Wrangler blue jeans.
He was with a big group of women and men, all drinking and laughing and taking turns line-dancing with each other on the dance floor.
And to think you only stumbled into the honky tonk cowboy bar out of curiosity… It certainly wasn’t your scene.
But you’d watched Joel dance with a few women with respectful hand placement, and then he danced with a man, and hope had bubbled up inside of you to the sound of Alan Jackson.
He was a little sweaty when you worked up the courage to talk to him, and his cologne masked all the alcohol and cigarettes in the air.
You plastered on a flirty smile and asked him if he could teach you some of his moves. When he looked taken aback and flustered, you backtracked.
“I’m sorry, I saw you dancing with that guy— I didn’t mean to assume.”
“Tommy? That’s my brother,” he’d explained, a little flushed in the face.
“Oh! Shit, sorry, ignore me.”
But he’d caught your arm as you turned to hibernate for approximately 5-10 business days.
“I don’t see no harm in teachin’ you.”
And so he did. And it was fun, and his hands on you were so warm you swear they branded his mark all over your skin.
A few songs, all background noise to the ‘he’s just straight, don’t do this’ mantra in your head, and he was leading you off the dance floor for another beer.
A friendly beer. Surely that’s all it was.
But he was so friendly. He gave you pointers on how to dance, and then asked if you’re from around here, and then he was waving off his group of friends when they all announced their departure.
He asked you about your job, and you asked about his, and then the way his hands felt rough on the skin of your arm made more sense.
Maybe you were crazy, or the two beers you had were really getting to your head, but there was something so unspeakably electric between you. You felt it when he’d lean in closer to hear you, the way he touched your arm with the back of his bottle-filled fist, the way his hoppy breath ghosted across your cheek to reach your ear.
And then he said he should probably get home, and asked if he should walk you to your car, and maybe he wasn’t straight, you thought, as he briefly placed his hand on your back to guide you through the packed bar.
And you really, really shouldn’t have. But you asked for his number, and he put it in your shitty flip phone, and then you kissed him.
Right on the mouth. A quick peck that was so short you could’ve nearly pretended it was an accident.
He looked so stunned, and guilt boiled up in your stomach.
But he’d grabbed your wrist gently, and looked you in the eyes.
“I’m uh… I don’t… I haven’t ever done that.”
“That was your first kiss?”
It was a joke, and thank god he laughed. His smile looked so fucking good under the shitty, flickering street lamps.
“Call me, okay?”
And then he was gone. You thought about him the whole drive home, while you got undressed and ready for bed, as you fell asleep. You felt his touch in your dreams, and when you woke in the morning you could hardly believe he was real.
But his phone number was burning a hole in your cell phone. You stared at it on and off all Saturday long. What would you even say? Why did he even want you to call him, if he’d never even kissed a guy before? Did he just want a new drinking buddy?
The dread built up all day long, until it was late, and a sense of now or never goaded you into calling his number.
He answered, and you told him who you were, and he’d sounded so surprised to hear from you. He didn’t think you’d want to see him again, after he embarrassed himself, and his admission made you balk.
You told him you were the one who felt embarrassed. He laughed at that. Said he’s a lot smoother with ladies, but you made him feel nervous. He said he wanted to meet up again.
And so you did.
Just a shitty diner for an early dinner on Sunday, unassuming enough. The chemistry you felt at the bar hadn’t faded. If anything, it was so much more apparent now. The way he blushed when you flirted seemed less like the bad kind of gay panic. His foot kept nudging yours under the table.
He walked you to your car again, and then he kissed you, much less chaste than the night at the bar, with one big, rough hand on your neck and the other on your hip.
“That was pretty good for only your second kiss,” you’d said.
He shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his heated face.
“Should stick around and find out about the third.”
And if you hadn’t already been wrapped around his finger, he certainly secured the spot for you then.
He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to this, and it showed. He got pretty easily flustered around you. On your second date, he brought up his daughter for the first time like he’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned her before. A casual thing, talking about her getting ready to graduate high school.
“Does Sarah know… who you’re on a date with?”
Joel shook his head.
“Not yet. No one does… Not even sure how to explain it to myself, if I’m honest.”
You were patient with him. It’s gotta be culture shock, living nearly 40 years of your life completely straight and having some random guy at a bar change that for you overnight.
You took things slow. You talked a lot over the phone, after Sarah went to sleep. He told you about his dating history, Sarah’s mom and only a few unserious flings after. You tried not to psychoanalyze him, but it makes a little bit of sense. Getting some girl pregnant at 19, marrying her, getting ditched with a toddler and a curt ‘good luck’ and then raising her on your own?
No wonder he never questioned his sexuality. There was genuinely no time to.
At first, you thought you may just be a stepping stone. A news flash for him, an experiment, something fun for a season. It didn’t bother you. It’s happened before. But as your nightly talks got longer, and as you took each other out more and more often, it became clear that it wasn’t like that.
You watched with fascination and adoration as Joel figured things out. It was so endearing when he asked if he should hold the door open for you, or if you should take turns. Likewise, when he held your hand in public for the first time, the way he asked your permission made your heart grow way too big for your rib cage.
Things weren’t perfect, of course, but nothing ever is. You didn’t get to see him as much as you ideally would. You were both busy during the work week, and he often had father duties on the weekends. Most of your dates were quick dinner bites when Sarah had a school thing, or an odd Saturday here or there when Sarah had a sleepover.
But that was quite enough for you. You weren’t even looking for something when you’d met him. You didn’t feel the need to move quickly when you hadn’t planned on going anywhere in the first place.
And he was sweet, and quite self-aware.
“Wish we could spend more time together,” he’d tell you over the phone, “I know this ain’t the way things normally go.”
But you liked him. So much. So it didn’t bother you.
And, as the weeks passed by, he opened up more. He started asking you more pointed questions, like how you came out to those closest to, and what it was like. He asked if you were seeing other people— it’s okay if you are, was just wonderin’— and then he asked you if you wanted to be together when you made it clear you weren’t.
“Like… as boyfriend and boyfriend?”
He chuckled, the deep gravel a familiar tone swimming through your landline with a nervous twinge to it.
“Yeah, as boyfriend and boyfriend.”
And he treated you right, and you got along with him so well, and he was so put together and responsible and respectful.
“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.”
And his breath had hitched so loud it was caught by the receiver, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he told you that he’d really like that, too.
A few days after that, he told you Sarah would be gone all weekend, on a team trip for some hiking and kayaking and bonding.
“Could I stay at yours? I hate to invite myself, it’s just— Tommy’s got no boundaries. Wouldn’t want him bargin’ in, y’know, before I get to tell him.”
You didn’t mind one bit, aside from the mountain of laundry you had to fold in preparation for his arrival.
It was the first time you’d been truly alone with him. Your dates were always public, at least somewhat. And he’d kissed you, a ton, but that’s as far as it had ever gone.
You definitely wanted him. You’d wanted him since the very second you laid eyes on him at that cheesy honky tonk bar. But it was funny how nervous you were, even though your experience with men put Joel’s to shame.
It was a lot like high school, in the way you danced around each other at first. A movie on your couch, with his arm draped along the back of it. Readjusting to ‘get comfy,’ inching, until the warmth of his body was pressed against yours and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to your shoulders.
His heartbeat was deafening, hard and fast, when you’d tucked your head against his chest. You moved your hand to his knee in the world’s most intense match of The Nervous Game and feared for his cardiovascular health.
He said your name, and like it was the magic word, every single facade crumbled around you in an instant.
His kisses made your head spin, and the way his thick thighs felt under your own was addictive, and it was over before either of you realized it had started. Two sets of soiled pants and underwear thrown into your washing machine, along with the last of the pretenses. And then you’d dragged him to your bed.
The sex wasn’t even your favorite part. The best was the morning after, and how you were plastered to his back as you woke up slow and easy. The way he held your arm to his stomach, even in his sleep. And the way you only got out of bed for food or bathroom breaks, a whole day with him, alone, uninterrupted.
Just as you started to worry that this was a one-time thing, at least for a while, Joel huffed beside you and nuzzled his head into your shoulder.
“I wanna come out. At least to Tommy ‘n Sarah. S’not right, keeping you a secret like this when you’ve been makin’ me so happy. I know you’d make them happy too.”
You stroked his hair, and asked if he was sure, and though his pretty brown eyes looked wide and scared, his jaw was set with a determined nod.
So you devised a plan. Or— Joel devised it, and asked for your input, and it all made you a bit giddy.
He had you over for dinner. Just as a friend, at first. He’d ordered pizza and stocked beer and told Tommy and Sarah he was having a friend over.
You wondered if Tommy would recognize you from the bar, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just talked your ear off about Texas sports and old cars.
Sarah was… well, you understood why Joel could never seem to smile wide enough when he talked about her. She was so smart, and kind-hearted, and funny. You had a hard time keeping up, but the way Joel and Tommy were around her, you think she probably has that effect on most people.
It was a nice night, fun and easy conversation, good pizza, and a very competitive game of Boggle in which Sarah dominated.
And it was only a little bit difficult to spend the evening as just Joel’s friend, solely because of how easily you fit into his life. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops, that Joel wanted you to be a piece in his puzzle.
Sarah, so politely, excused herself to go to bed as it got later. The three of you left shuffled around, gathering game pieces and paper plates and empty cans, until you all eventually met back in the kitchen. Joel gave you a look, and you gave him a comforting smile right back, and it was like the room’s air was replaced with water as he spoke up.
“Tommy?”
“Mmhmm?”
The younger brother whipped around to face you both, sliding the leftovers into the fridge with a slice in his mouth.
“I uh… I wanted to let you know that I’m— that we’re, uh… Together?”
You watched as his dark eyes glazed over for a second, brow scrunched up in confusion. And then his gaze flickered from you to him, and back to you, and his eyes grew as big as saucers.
“No kiddin’?”
Joel laughed.
“Serious. He’s my… He’s my boyfriend.”
Tommy swallowed his mouthful of pizza, wiped his mustache, and smiled. A genuine smile, sweet and warm, reaching his eyes.
“Hermano, good for you. That’s— I’m happy for you.”
He opened his arms and tugged Joel into a hug, and Joel grumbled something about Tommy getting pizza grease on his clothes, but he was smiling wide and relieved over Tommy’s shoulder.
But then Joel’s face got serious again as Tommy pulled away with a manly slap to his shoulder.
“Sarah doesn’t know yet. I wanted to make sure everyone got along first, y’know?”
And then Tommy was looking at you and rolling his eyes and chuckling.
“Think we all get along just fine. You should tell her soon.”
And Joel knew Tommy was right, but it didn’t stop him from looking so anxious when Tommy left with another round of goodbye hugs.
“What are you most worried about?”
You asked him because you knew there were many things to fret over, in his situation.
“Just that… She’s had this idea of me this whole time, y’know? What if she sees me different, and then things change between us?”
And god, that made your throat feel thick, and Joel’s eyes got a little misty, so you pulled him tight against you and let him sag into your hold.
“I know the feeling,” you told him, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“No?”
You huffed a laugh and tangled your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck.
“You mean everything to her. I can tell just by how she looks at you. Never seen a teenager like their dad that much.”
And he laughed too, a little wet against your shoulder.
“Will you be there with me when I tell her? I don’t— I don’t think I can do it alone.”
Your lips found his bristly cheek and planted a kiss there, and you mumbled of course into the salty skin.
So you went home, with plans to come back the next day. This wasn’t easy for you, either, dating a guy with a kid for the first time. You knew she liked you, at least, but that was a face value assessment. Would she mind you taking up more of her dad’s time? Would she mind you in their space every so often? Would she mind if you came around to her soccer games or science fairs or graduation, as her dad’s boyfriend, in front of all the other kids with nuclear families? Would she resent you for shaking up what they had?
You didn’t get much sleep, thinking about it. You wondered if you should bring her some kind of gift, flowers or a trinket or something, but then you’d be trying too hard, right?
As you got ready the next morning, you thought about all the ways it could go wrong, but none of them really seemed realistic. Sarah was sweet, and intelligent, and surely if she did have reservations, they’d be able to talk them through civilly.
Right?
You couldn’t even listen to music on your way to their house. It was a silent fifteen minute drive with your nerves boiling over and spilling out, thinking of how awkward things could get.
But all of that kind of fell to the wayside when Sarah answered the door and said “I haven’t seen you in forever” with a cheeky grin and those bright eyes she definitely got from Joel.
It felt cozy when you sat down at their kitchen table while they sipped their coffee and orange juice and Sarah told you both all about the English project she was working on. It put you at ease to ask her questions about things you have in common, and for all of you to mesh so well into a normal conversation.
But as it lulled, you noticed Joel getting restless, and you noticed Sarah noticing his uneasiness.
“Dad, you’re acting weird in front of our company.”
And while she was alway kind and respectful, she was still a teenager with a dorky dad.
“Well… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”
She looked at him with her head tilted and her eyebrow raised.
“Now?”
She nodded her head toward you as she asked, and you couldn’t blame her for being confused as to why he had to have a heart-to-heart with his ‘friend’ visiting.
“Yeah um… You know how you’re always tellin’ me I should get a life and start datin’?”
Sarah laughed and looked at you.
“Yeah, could you be his wingman? It’s getting sad.”
And you laughed, and Joel laughed, but it was a little forced, and Sarah’s smart, so you could read the confusion on her face.
“What’s this about, dad?”
Joel took a big, deep breath and took Sarah’s hand on the table. You watched her squeeze his fingers as her face twisted up in worry.
“He’s my— we’re dating. He’s my… boyfriend.”
The worry dissipated, and her eyes got wide and her lips pursed before her jaw slowly dropped with surprise.
“You guys are together?”
She looked over to you, then, and all you could do was give her a soft smile and nod.
“I know you might have some questions—”
“How long? When did you guys meet?”
She looked back to Joel to answer, but you could see he was still reeling, with sweat saturating the curls at his temples.
“Just a couple months ago, he taught me how to dance to the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”
She made a noise, like a scoff, and it made you wince.
“Months!? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
You watched Joel’s eyes cloud with— fear? You’d never seen him look so scared.
“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just— I guess I didn’t know how. At first.”
His voice trembled, and you watched Sarah’s lip quiver before she shot out of her chair and lunged toward her dad, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“I love you,” she’d mumbled, like she knew it was what he needed to hear, because his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around her back.
You thought maybe you should look away. It felt real personal. But Joel had asked you to be here, and it was about you, too, as much as that fact made you want to burrow underground.
“You could have told me sooner. I love boy talk.”
Her voice was muffled and heavy with tears, but Joel chuckled all the same through his own misty gaze.
“I didn’t know you liked boys.”
She pulled away but didn’t go far, letting her hands squeeze his biceps as she looked to him for an answer.
“Me neither,” he shrugged, “I like this boy, though. A lot.”
And he got this goofy smile on his face, even though it was a little wet, and he looked at you, and you felt so awkward but so head over heels.
“Okay, well, you still should have told me. I would’ve been on the porch cleaning Uncle Tommy’s shotgun when he pulled up.”
Joel groaned and covered his face but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of you.
“What are your intentions with my father?”
And though her tone was joking, her eyes grew soft as she waited for an answer.
“I guess I just wanna make him happy. Because he makes me happy. If that’s alright with you?”
She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand, with her lips pursed again as she thought.
“Sarah, you can have time to think—”
“Deal.”
She extended her hand out to you from across the table, and you took it eagerly to shake on it. But after an appropriate amount of handshake time, she didn’t let your hand go.
“You have to come over for movie nights now.”
“I can do that.”
“And I have to make sure your taste in movies doesn’t suck before I let you pick one.”
“That’s fair.”
“ALSO—“
“Sarah,” Joel interrupted, “this isn’t how deals work. You can’t add stuff while he’s still shaking your hand.”
“As I was saying,” Sarah rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand tighter, “you have to treat him right. He acts all tough but he’s just a softy.”
“Oh Christ,” Joel huffed.
“No, she has a point,” you told him with a smirk, “I promise I will, Sarah.”
Her eyes narrowed at you, but then she grinned, and finally let go of your hand.
So yeah, you really really like Joel Miller. You’re never happier than you are when you spend the evening at his house, snuggled up on one side of him while Sarah’s snuggled up to the other, watching some movie Sarah’s usually the one to pick.
Or when you meet him and Tommy at Sarah’s soccer game, and he greets you with a smile and lifts the bill of your Miller Contracting hat you’ve stolen to peck your lips.
Or when you’re in your own kitchen, making his coffee, and you feel sleepy arms wrap around your waist and a sleep warm kiss at the nape of your neck.
Really, as long as you’re with Joel, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. And if those three little words slip out one day soon, well, there isn’t a single thing that makes you think Joel would be surprised by them.
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It’s 9:30 am on a Monday, my regularly-scheduled time for a workout. Like always, I pad across the floor of the living room, roll out the yoga mat, arrange the dumbbells, and flip open my laptop to find a follow-along strength training video on YouTube. The algorithm knows my patterns and proclivities. Populating the first row of content is a perfect encapsulation of my weekday psyche: a thirty-minute shoulders and abs video, a fresh episode of The Bald and the Beautiful to listen to while I complete it, and for relaxing afterward, a 60-minute livestream in which a sweet-faced middle-aged mother named Sammie is repeatedly dropped into a hypnotic trance and made to repeat mantras of obedience and servitude by her loving hypnotist and boyfriend. I love all the sides of hypnotized Sammie: when she is made to be a giggling maid, and when she dons fuzzy ears and mewls like a cat; when she devotedly calls her hypnotist Master and erases her memories for him, and when she freezes, smilingly, into a happy doll begging to be played with. I’ve watched all of her hours-long livestreams in their entirety, some of them multiple times, her vacant, entranced stares and stiff, robotic movements sending my own body roaring into a satisfied climax, sometimes without even touching myself. But I am not attracted to Sammie at all. In fact, I’m not at all attracted to women. To the extent that my sexuality involves making contact with other people, I’m a gay man, exclusively interested in other queer men. But to even bother with that distinction confuses things a bit, because ultimately my sexual orientation does not hinge upon people’s identities or bodies. Though I can admire the beauty of all kinds of people, and even feel a handsome man igniting my curiosity at times, ultimately I’m just not really “into” human beings at all. What I’m into is hypnosis. Or mind control, brainwashing, and conditioning, if you like. Hypnosis is the bedrock that holds my psychosexual landscape together; without it any potential engagement in sex slips, and falls apart into nothing. Hypnosis is the anchor that keeps my insatiable libido grounded; without it, any possibility of having satisfying sex floats away, and my mind dissociates from the event as it’s happening. I’m a deeply sexual person, and I always have been. I discovered masturbation early, at around four or five, and took part in it actively, getting caught a few times as a kid before I learned to sequester into my bedroom for it early in the morning and late at night. Beginning in my teen years, I got into the habit of pleasuring myself for between an hour and a half to two hours per day, and that rate has continued throughout much of my adult life. And yet, I am also asexual — because as much as my body craves sexual release, and as often as I pursue sex, my drive has no relationship to how other people look, or anything else about them, and my release doesn’t need to involve any specific sexual activities at all. Hypnosis is sex to me. Even in its most stagey and sterile forms, I find it inescapably erotic — and that leaves sex itself as just some boring party trick. You can touch me, or you can perform a series of backflips in front of me on the floor; either way I’ll tell you that you’ve done a very impressive job and all but it will not make me cum.
You can read (or listen to!) the full essay for free at drdevonprice.substack.com
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