hermes-comingthru-blog

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mr-kencarson:

To be honest, Ken was expecting some yelling. He knew he had made a scene back there, and not the good kind (there was a distinction, ask him about it sometime when he wasn’t panicking). He had ended the prom early for them both, and he couldn’t even apologise for it, because getting out of that room had felt like the best thing that he could do. So yeah, he had ruined Hermes’ night; he was expecting the yelling. When it didn’t came, he wanted to cry even harder, because assuming that there would be yelling was really shitty, and he really didn’t deserve Hermes, he just didn’t–

Right, breathing. Probably important.

Ken took a deep, shuddering breath, surprised to find that breathing actually wasn’t too difficult, it did help to make the room stop spinning. He swiped at his face, for once not thinking about how puffy his eyes were going to be, and he nodded. Some real fucked up tea felt like an understatement. He sat down on the sofa, loosening his tie and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt so that he could breathe a bit easier.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” He said after a moment, looking up at Hermes for one long moment before he glanced away again, shaking his head. “I’m not expecting anything from you. It’s - it’s like this.

I left New York because my dad– it was to "work for him”,“ He said, the quotations more than evident in his voice, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Code for getting me out of the way, which I was more than fine with, like I wanna be around him anyway–” He stopped himself, swiped at his eyes again. He was getting off track. “My dad - Dominic, runs most of the crime in New York. Probably all of it, in New York City - any organised crime in NYC can be traced back to my dad,” Ken managed, looking away from Hermes, down at the coffee table in front of him. He tapped the tip of his index finger against it, glaring at the grain. “And he doesn’t want his stupid fag son interfering. So I’m here. But now Perdita knows, and if she tells her family, and it gets around–”

Hermes unbuttoned his vest and pushed his hands into his pockets as he looked at his now slightly calmer boyfriend. Whatever the secret was, it couldn’t be like terrible could it? 

As Hermes listened, he could definitely relate to having parents who didn’t exactly cast the best light on him. Hell, he’d left California for the UK and changed his name to Hermes because he couldn’t deal with family scandal. He winced at the hate speech that crawled its way into the story, but he knew it was for emphasis on the homophobia his dad had. 

Hermes kicked off his shoes and sighed, “Well, ignoring the fact that you being part of the mob is kind of sexy in a dangerous, crime sort of way, we’ll circle back to that, honey.” He winked to try to lighten the mood a little bit. He couldn’t exactly be mad at Ken when he wasn’t forthcoming either. “We can’t choose our family. Mine didn’t exactly have the most spotless record either. My mom is still in prison actually. It’s why I don’t talk about them.” He gave a shrug, “I wouldn’t worry about Perdy. Obviously, she wants something so we’ll just appease her til we have a better plan of action.” He ran his hand along the side of Ken’s arm, “It’ll be okay.”

What Goes Up || Drag Squad

[hermes-comingthru-blog]

mr-kencarson:

Kenneth Carson. It was enough to make his blood run cold.

Kenneth Sean Carson, you listen to me, boy. That doesn’t leave this god damn office. You don’t say a word'a that to no one. Not a single god damn person, you hear? I’m gonna pretend like you never said it, and you’re gonna play along. You hearing me? You understand?

Ken had really understood, he had just taken no notice.

And now look where he was. Ken turned, spinning on his heel to look at Hermes as if it was the first time he had ever seen him. He wiped hastily at his eyes, frightened of the tears that stung their corners. Whilst he would really kind of like to curl up on his sofa and cry right now, he didn’t seem to have the time. He was scheduled for a fight with his boyfriend, the perfect beginning to what could be total armagheddon.

But his attempts were futile, because his lip was wobbling ever so slightly, throat bobbing as he thought about where he should begin. Even in his own head the whole thing was muddled, a criss-cross of wires. And then, of course, there was the part of him that was telling him he was being dumb, that Perdita wasn’t going to tell anyone back home anyway, because why would she, especially when Hermes was seemingly her friend, and because of the fact that she wasn’t stupid–

Shut up, Rational Brain, we’re panicking, didn’t you get the memo?

���Perdita–” He began, but then, no, wrong. “My dad–” No, no, still wrong. Ken swallowed again, and took a shallow breath. “Where do you want me to start, Hermes, cause it’s sort of a long story.”

Ken was crying. Hermes had been so ready to be mad, upset, indignant, to storm out of Ken’s apartment just as Ken had stormed out of the prom without him.  But his boyfriend was crying and extremely upset and Hermes was still dealing with the fact that his best friend left for London to be everything he wanted to be and more with her new lesbian lover. So maybe he was a little soft, a little hurt, a little vulnerable, and maybe his icy heart had defrosted ever so slightly for this boy. 

He sighed, walking up to him, arms still crossed as he looked him over. “First off, you need to like breathe, because I am not picking you up off the floor in this outfit from you passing out.” He took a deep breath and sighed out. “Second, I can figure out that you and Perdita probably know each other. When I told her about my boyfriend she looked very interested, but knowing Perdy she just found leverage for something. So, really the question is, what does she have on you with your... Dad, I guess?” He looked away before looking back at him, “You know Ken, we don’t discuss family for multiple reasons. I never talk about it, you never talk about it. So we both have to have some real fucked up tea to spill, you know?” He really didn’t want to talk about his family (no one in Swynlake knew his past, he was just the fun, crazy drag queen of the town), but if it made Ken feel better, Hermes thought it might be time. 

What Goes Up || Drag Squad

[hermes-comingthru-blog]

mr-kencarson:

@hermes-comingthru

Ken had left the prom after his little conversation with Perdita, a slight tremble in his fingers, his legs physically incapable of moving fast enough. His brain had whited out somewhere after Hermes had joined them, his sympathetic nervous system taking over and deciding that he should go with flight instead of fight. There was no point in fighting Perdita, so every cell in his body told him to get out, quick, abandon ship, go go go, mayday, mayday–

He managed to get to his apartment without seeing very much of the route, feet treading familiar paths until he was stood outside of front door. And really, he loved Tigg, but he was so glad that she had moved out because he could not have handled another person right now.

Which briefly reminded him of his poor boyfriend, who he had left behind at some point. Was he following him? God, Ken hoped not. He couldn’t have this conversation right now. Because “this conversation” was probably going to be a fight, and Ken’s brain was still mostly bright white and fuzzy static, he was in no shape to having Important Conversations. He should’ve just walked into the fucking forest, or gone right into the river, that might’ve worked too–

He dropped his keys as he fumbled with him, muttering a soft fuck under his breath. Fingers still trembling, he managed to fetch the keys and open the door, pushing inside and only just remembering to kick the door shut behind him. “Fuck.” he repeated, now that his body had decided to let him take back some control. And then, louder. “Fuck.”

He was in so much trouble. Or he was about to be, anyway. Probably already was.

Once more, with feeling. “Fuck.”

Ken hadn’t looked back once.

Not once. On this entire walk/sprint to his apartment. 

Hermes Petros did not chase down dates. Hermes Petros was chased. This outfit and these shoes? Not made for long distance boyfriend chases. Especially not made for boyfriends who apparently forgot they even came with you to this stupid prom and that you had plans afterwards. And if you recall what happened on their V-Day fiasco night, Hermes hated wasted plans, time and effort.

So, you could say Hermes was more than a little hurt, confused and pissed all at once. Perdy had been acting strange and apparently knew Ken. Ken apparently knew Perdy. Yet neither of them mentioned the other. Hermes knew Paul, Perdy and Ken. Great, now that everyone’s up to speed... Ken was repeatedly yelling “fuck” which in no way answered any of Hermes’ questions.

“Kenneth Carson.” Hermes stuck out his arm, catching the door as it was kicked behind him. Yet again, Ken not taking consideration that his boyfriend was here. “I have chased you through the entire fucking town in an outfit that is not made for physical activities other than dancing and the kind that comes with taking it off so I am not leaving without answers.” He shoved the door closed behind him and 

“What is wrong with you? And why do I feel like I’m the last to know. I’m never the last to know. I am the spiller of the tea. I do not get tea spilled on me. But now in front of several people I have a tea stain on my spotless reputation with no fucking known origin other than it came from this general direction.” He motioned to his boyfriend (who was super fucking cute in his outfit, no matter what Pip said, but he was mad right now so he wasn’t going to think about that).  

What Goes Up || Drag Squad

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Hermes Petros Adult Prom 2018 

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Oooh, honey, does your library ever close or is it just 24/7 reading all day every day, Pip? 

This is what happens when you serve minimalist boy realness, Kenneth. The public claps back. You’re just naked without all your accessories, honey but we’ll fix you right up. You do have to appreciate a good read. 

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delightfully-daisy:

Sabrina gave a lengthy meow, batting at Hermes’ face with her paws. Her tail twisted this way and that, and Daisy, who was folding up some of the blazers for the donation bin, gave a little laugh, tiptoeing over to plant a kiss on her kitty’s head.

“She’s going to miss you too,” said Daisy, petting the top of Sabrina’s cat and looking up at Hermes. “She took to you so quickly – she’s not like that with most people.”

Indeed, Sabrina had only just progressed to the cool detachment stage with Amelia, which Daisy hoped would melt into a warmer aloofness as time passed. But Sabrina had taken to Hermes quite quickly, which was funny because he had most definitely not taken to her that way.

“You’ll have to visit her,” she said and now she was not talking about the cat, of course. (Though, yes, she was also talking about the cat). “We have a wonderful study-guest room, of course, and it’s got a magnificent view.”

Letting the little feline, paw at his beard, Hermes just smirked at the little creature, moving her to the nook of his arm to craddle her and scratch her behind the ears. “Well, we all know I’m very hard to pass up.” Hermes winked at Daisy, oddly enough one of the few friends he’d had in his life of whom he hadn’t banged. There was just something he couldn’t taint like he did with most things. The thought of risking what he had with Daisy on a more than decent shag just seemed silly (despite what his wine drunk brain had told him one or two nights).

“Of course, how else is her instagram going to get updated with new outfits?” His comment seemed to brush it all off, but truly he appreciated the invite in knowing he was wanted. He squinted at her and then looked off into the distance. “I can see it now. Little nautical memorabilia. Books about sailing and fashion magazines and novels and wide open windows.” He looked back to her, fingers running over the top of Sabrina’s head with a smirk, “How close am I to your decorating plans? Also how much is Amelia really contributing to the interior design aspect of this home, edged her out already?”

So Last Season || Duck Mail

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delightfully-daisy:

“She does have impeccable taste,” said Daisy, with a satisfied sigh. “But of course I wouldn’t want to live with anyone who didn’t dress to my standards.” That was a bit of a joke, of course, with a little hint of truth in it. Daisy glanced at the suit jackets, tapping her chin again, then glanced back of Hermes.

While Daisy was most certainly excited (so so very excited to the point where her heart was fluttering so lightly that she could hardly believe she was a real-life actual human person and not some figment from some dream), it was an excitement mixed with a tinge of sadness. After all, she would be leaving a part of her life behind, a part of her life she had intimately carved for herself – just for herself and by herself. All the friends she’d made, the ones she’d grown closer with.

“I’ll keep those then,” she said, picking up the jackets that Hermes had pointed out. “I have a feeling burgandy’s going to be coming back soon. Also it’s a delicious colour.” She hooked the hangers on her finger and slipped them onto her rack of clothes to keep.

“The place we’re moving into has a phenomenal walk-in closet,” she said. “Even bigger than the one in my flat at Castle Suits.”

“Of course? Who wants to teach your significant other style? I have enough projects I don’t need another one.” It was one of the many reasons why Ken had been so attractive to him. He had style and he had body-ody-ody in or out of drag.

“And you look like a straight up snack in it, honey.” He smirked at her, giving a wink. “Well, not so straight anymore.” He honestly was so happy for her, but that happiness did come with bits of jealousy. After all, he was meant for the city. Meant for the big lights and to have his name up on those lights. He just had a harder time than Daisy getting up off the ground (which could technically be attributed to Daisy being from an established family and him basically having no family ties anymore aside from his Aunt and Uncle in Cambridge.)

“Ugh be still my heart, you’re living my actual dream life. Perfect signinficant other, giant walk in closet, working for Voooogue. Like ugh, covergirl, work it, girl.” Hermes sighed, “I hope you know I’m inviting myself to London whenever possible and Amelia will just have to deal.”

At that moment, Sabrina trotted her way into the room and Hermes scooped her right up into his arms to look her in the face and pout in a dramatic fashion, “Ugh what will I do without you in this tiny little town?” He was speaking to the cat, but mostly to Daisy.

So Last Season || Duck Mail

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pretty-perdita:

Perdita hummed and smirked around the rim of her champagne flute. It did sound right. Perdita had hardly been able to get her paws on one of Paul’s manuscripts, but the first time she had (after snooping), she had been blown away by the talent. And she could say that–she had a Literature degree from Cambridge University, thank you.

She didn’t say anything else on the matter, because she was more curious about Ken and what the fuck he was doing.

A bartender? At the Court? She almost wanted to laugh. Did Hermes know who he was dating? Surely, he must. Did Ken get disowned? (That seemed strange, considering his father. Being disowned generally meant lacking a heart beat, and a cute boyfriend.) 

“Ah, that is why I’ve probably not met him. I tend to stick with Pixie’s or the Deer, but perhaps I’ll have to swing by and vet the lad–” oh, she was starting to sound like Paul, christ, “–make sure everything is in order.”

“Of course, why would Perdita Faye be in such an establishment if not to interrogate the employees?” He batted his eyes at her as he sipped on the refill of his bottomless mimosa. Hermes knew she was up to something. Perdy didn’t do anything without something to gain in return, but he’d be sure to tell Ken his friend was stopping by to question him.

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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delightfully-daisy:

Daisy trusted only one person in this whole town to help her pack her things, and that was obviously Hermes Petros. Now it was not just that she was packing, of course. She had to get rid of everything that was out of season, everything that said university student and not Junior Correspondent at Vogue (at VOGUE!!!!!), and everything that just didn’t scream Daisy anymore.

And obviously, there was no better consultant for this task than Hermes.

She had most of her dresses laid out on the king-sized bed in one of the spare rooms of her grandparents house and the rest were on racks scattered throughout the room.

Daisy tapped on the side of her chin, then turned to her confidant.

“I need to get rid of some of these blazers,” she said. “And obviously that one…” She tilted her head to a baby-pink one. “Isn’t up to par. But is there anything else that just doesn’t fit? I’m planning on revamping my whole blazer wardrobe – hmm, so I guess the real question is: are there any worth salvaging?”

@hermes-comingthru

Hermes’ best friend was moving onto bigger and better things in London with the woman of her dreams. How about that for a turn of events? They were straight up (gay up) U-hauling it too like two lesbians completely infatuated. Hermes, of course couldn’t have been happier for Daisy, but a twinge of jealousy and sadness was there as well. She was leaving this small own and working for Vogue and he was here with really only Ken to entertain himself with (which wasn’t bad by any means, Ken was amazing).

So here he was, helping her pack and toss out all the outfits that screamed small town college fashion blog life and it truly was an honor to even be considered for the role. He furrowed his brows looking over the outfits, arms crossed, hand coming out to gesture to various options. “I feel like you could still work that burgundy one over there and the navy always went well with your eyes.” He looked over to the blonde with a smirk, “Regardless, of how much you downsize, I’m sure Amelia could help you pick out tons of new blazers, I feel like she’d have that sort of connection in London. The woman loves a good pantsuit. That, or you two could even be the same size and have twice the wardrobe. Perks of same sex relationships, henny.”

So Last Season || Duck Mail

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pretty-perdita:

Yes, he had networked. With that Daisy Canard girl. Perdita would not mention this because it annoyed her. That it was this girl–who was nice and pretty but very soft in Perdita’s limited experience–that had helped Paul get into school. Something Perdita had been trying for years.

Even before they’d dated.

“Fiction, for the most part. Very–Hemingway or James Joyce.” She waved a hand. “He is very good, though. I’d be sure to expect him on the New York Times best seller list by the time he’s graduated.”

Perdita had high hopes for Paul–she also had high standards.

“What is it that boy of yours does?” she raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of champagne. 

“So, incredibly detailed to the extent that all children in high school reading it will resent him for making his novel? Sounds about right.” Hermes said all of this with a grin on his face. Hey, he’d had completed a pretty expensive education and lived with professors in Cambridge once leaving California, he knew an author or two. Plus when you really read someone it was good to have some author material to toss in someone’s face.

Hermes gave a slight shrug of one shoulder as he raised his glass to his lips once more, draining it of its oh so delicious contents. God, he was such a basic bitch sometimes. “Well, he’s a performer just as I am, but just as I have another job to be fiscally responsible and whatever, he works as a bartender for The Court.”

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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pretty-perdita:

Part of her was still reeling. 

Kenneth Carson = Confirmed Gay. The glee inside of her was almost too much. It was times like these that she wished she had kept up with her minions in New York better. Of course, she could ring them up. They would not be stupid enough to have forgotten her. But, she knew this was the kind of knowledge which needed to be kept close at hand.

Really, she should tell Georgette, though. Georgette would get a kick out of this.

She didn’t let any of this plotting show as more than a twinkle in her eye as she took a sip of her drink and a bite of her brunch. 

“Oh, he’s well,” Perdita said with a smile, her voice light and airy. “Was personally recruited by the writing department at PrideU, so he will be starting there in the fall.” 

And Perdita was so–proud. The entire time they’d been together, Perdita had tried her best to encourage Paul to pursue what he loved. They’d had vicious fights about it. But, once the babies were a reality, he was too stubborn. And Perdita knew she’d lost. She’d felt guilty too. Guilty making the selfish decision to keep the babies, even though she knew it would hinder his dreams. She was glad that now, he got to succeed.

Perdita, of course, had seemed much happier in the last few months now that her beau was rightfully hers again. The puppy had come home and Perdy was all too ready to take him back and play happy family with their kids. Hey, more power to her for keeping the family together and getting your love back.

Hermes raised his brows, charming smile still on his face as his mimosa was refilled. “Personally recruited? I didn’t even know he wrote. Someone must have networked him real good, honey. Got that manuscript in the right hands with the right timing.” He took a sip of the drink, continuing, “What sorts of things does Paul write? Fiction? Non-Fiction? Historical fiction? Science fiction? Am I to expect the next great British novel on the bestseller list in the next couple years?”

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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pretty-perdita:

Of course that question had been mostly rhetorical, just so she could fish for pictures, to sate her curiosity. So, she just rolled her eyes at Hermes and shoved at his shoulder lightly, leaning in to take a look at the phone.

And even Perdita–who was skilled at making her face as smooth as stone, who held her emotions as close to her chest as a royal flush–found her eyebrows crinkling slightly, for just a moment as she looked at the picture of the boys on the screen before her.

His name is Ken.

Kenneth Carson. Infamous son of the Carson family. Mob heir-extraordinaire. 

Holy shit. 

The glee bubbled up fast on the heel of her shock, like the champagne that she held in her hand, taking another sip as the crease between her eyebrows disappeared and a pleased smile curled onto her lips.

“You’re right, Hermes, he is quite a catch.” The words hid a secret amusement that was sure to go right over Hermes’ preening head.

Hermes gleefully looked at his phone and then to Perdita, knowing, of course, she’d approve because why wouldn’t she? Ken was fine as all hell. 

The smile on her face told him one thing. She knew an angle. He’d known Perdy long enough to know when she had a plan brewing. Now, Hermes of course didn’t know this whole New York connection between them. He just figured she had some sort of other use for him and his new found boo that would be eventually revealed. To him, Ken was out, and he’d never really spoken of his family so Hermes just assumed that he was out everywhere. Why wouldn’t he be? Hermes was.

He grinned at her and then the photo before turning it back to the lock screen and placing it on the table. “I knew you’d agree. We tend to share certain tastes.” He took another drink of his mimosa. “Speaking of, how is that delicious little Paul Patts doing these days?”

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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pretty-perdita:

From your neck of the woods. Fellow New Yorker type.

That certainly piqued Perdita’s interest to a new level. She missed her home dreadfully sometimes. Not that she got along with almost anyone in New York. The people she’d never really fit in with–the town itself, though, well, you were an odd sort of person if you didn’t find yourself enchanted by New York City. At least, that was Perdita’s opinion.

“I guess I’ll have to leave that to you then,” Perdita said with a scoff, but leaned forwards, elbows on the table, her face intrigued. 

“Do you have a picture? They’re worth a thousand words, you know. Not to mention–I’ve got to decide if he’s really as cute as you say.”

And if I know him or not…

Hermes knew he had her attention. He was baiting all of this information for the big reveal of how attractive his new beau was. The lead up would not have an anti-climactic end. 

“Honey, do you even know me? Of course, I do. I just haven’t made everything insta official yet, you know. Have to make my rounds before it all goes public on social media.” He scrolled through his phone to find the exact photo (among all of his instagram posts and selfies of outfits) of Ken he was looking for. He passed the photo of the grinning boy over, a selfie of the two of them laughing at something ridiculous. 

“His name is Ken.”

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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pretty-perdita:

Perdita didn’t know how incredibly connected and involved Hermes was. Of course, he was certainly good for gossip, she would not deny him that. A mailman got a sneak peak into people’s lives. Perhaps he could see a one night stand in someone’s kitchen–scantily clad. Or two friends less than dressed, confirming everyone’s suspicions.

But, his ranking in town? Rather low. Sure, people appreciated him as a drag star, and he was marvelously talented, but he did not have the connections that Perdita Faye did. 

Which worked perfectly for her. She had a famous designer wrapped around her finger. She was in with a pack of werewolves (even if she wasn’t exactly aware of that particular fact). And, more importantly, she had her family. Paul and Anita and Roger and the babies. They were more of a stake, a claim, than anything that Hermes had in this town.

Except–this boy.

Perdita’s eyebrows rose and she lowered her champagne glass, that smirk of hers growing delightedly wicked.

“We can talk about me more later, Hermes,” Perdita told him, waving away his fake inquiry. They both knew he didn’t want to hear about her. Though, he would. Oh, he would. “Tell me more, tell me more,” she sing-songed at him, “about this man.” 

Of course, the comment about the man in his life piqued her interest. After all, it was very new gossip. They hadn’t even had an official outing as a couple. Too busy keeping each other busy behind closed doors and of course, their respective jobs kept them busy otherwise. 

“Well,” He looked down into his glass as he started, taking another sip and putting it down to look at her with a grin on his face. “I met him at one of my shows and it was just instant chemistry, at least work related chemistry. He’s also in the drag scene but is a recent transplant from your neck of the woods. Fellow New Yorker type.” He’d save the name for last, it was all in the build up. “Ugh, honey, if you saw his smile, and weren’t utterly taken by Paul, you’d want to the same things I’m doing to him. This boy is ridiculously cute out of drag and hottest thing on heels in it.”

Spilling Brunch Tea || Winged Eyeliner

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