Teddy brightens like the spill of light at sunrise, slow and then all at once; their grin turns into a wider, softer smile, a little caught off guard and very much appreciative.
The joke had been — not even with particular thought, just out of habit — put in such a way that someone who doesn’t discuss those things might breeze right past it. Oh, haha, right, of course not the Boy Scouts.
But Iggy’d caught his drift. Maybe a — pretty evidently queer — artist-slash-cam-boy in art school in a big city was almost guaranteed to: it’s still rare enough an occurrence for Teddy to be asked about pronouns instead of thrusting them on other people that his entire chest sort of clenches, in a good way.
(It also occurs to Teddy that they could say anything. This is an entirely new world. No history; no but-we’ve-known-you-so-long-as…)
“Thank you,” they say, both for Iggy’s pronouns and for being asked their own. “Got it. And um, if I had my choice?” Teddy’s tone is a little
wistful. “Kind of yes-and?” She arcs a hand in a little
depicting-a-scene gesture. “All of them. Any of them.” For just a moment his eyes are bright with possibility, meeting Iggy’s. “I think sometimes, that I would love not even knowing in advance, if someone was going to say he, or they, or zie, she…. But. That’s a…big ask? So.”
They lift a
shoulder. “I guess…” Teddy thinks. “Maybe, whatever feels the most like me to you. If it changes, rad, and if it doesn’t, fair enough. Is that too weird?”
[OOC: this got long and feelsy, so I’m breaking it up — I really want to reply to other things he said but it feels natural to get a response? We can wrangle it. Unless you’d rather I just keep
going??]
no subject
Teddy brightens like the spill of light at sunrise, slow and then all at once; their grin turns into a wider, softer smile, a little caught off guard and very much appreciative.
The joke had been — not even with particular thought, just out of habit — put in such a way that someone who doesn’t discuss those things might breeze right past it. Oh, haha, right, of course not the Boy Scouts.
But Iggy’d caught his drift. Maybe a — pretty evidently queer — artist-slash-cam-boy in art school in a big city was almost guaranteed to: it’s still rare enough an occurrence for Teddy to be asked about pronouns instead of thrusting them on other people that his entire chest sort of clenches, in a good way.
(It also occurs to Teddy that they could say anything. This is an entirely new world. No history; no but-we’ve-known-you-so-long-as…)
“Thank you,” they say, both for Iggy’s pronouns and for being asked their own. “Got it. And um, if I had my choice?” Teddy’s tone is a little wistful. “Kind of yes-and?” She arcs a hand in a little depicting-a-scene gesture. “All of them. Any of them.” For just a moment his eyes are bright with possibility, meeting Iggy’s. “I think sometimes, that I would love not even knowing in advance, if someone was going to say he, or they, or zie, she…. But. That’s a…big ask? So.”
They lift a shoulder. “I guess…” Teddy thinks. “Maybe, whatever feels the most like me to you. If it changes, rad, and if it doesn’t, fair enough. Is that too weird?”
[OOC: this got long and feelsy, so I’m breaking it up — I really want to reply to other things he said but it feels natural to get a response? We can wrangle it. Unless you’d rather I just keep going??]