#I’m just a hopeless lesbian alright what do you want from me

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Okay but what if Koska Reeves x Bo-Katan x the Armourer. Bo-Katan walking both worlds and bringing both worlds together etc etc

[elizabeth-mitchells]

the only touchstone of truth

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 3:

“Nice place,” Fran said, following Marla inside the restaurant.

It was the first time they saw each other outside the perimeters of the moribund vape shop. For a change, Fran was comfortably and even gloriously, in Marla’s inner monologue, wearing her casual clothes, which included wearing her hair down, tight dark jeans, and a sleeveless t-shirt. The blonde still dressed with impeccable style, but at least she had left the heels at home.

Once they were sitting at a table for two she couldn’t help but ask, “Can you afford this?”

Marla sent a very particular look her way. The blonde had to point out that, in most circumstances, that would be far from a polite thing to say to someone. But she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t charmed by the brunette’s blunt manner of handling the truth. So, finally, she settled for speaking her own version of the truth. “I will be,” Marla nodded.

“I could get used to this,” Fran mumbled, perusing the menu and doing an almost inhumane effort to remain strong and not yield to the impulse of looking up to meet the magnetic blue eyes that were staring at her.

“Help me win the case,” Marla replied in a soft and slow tone that was entirely too casual for her next words, “and I will take you to even more pleasurable places.”

Emboldened by having an appropriate comeback at the right time, Fran leaned forward in her seat, dared to meet Marla’s hunter-like gaze, and said, “If I help you win, then I expect my part of the money will be enough so I can afford these luxuries by myself.”

The two women were just one small step away from Marla blatantly saying out loud how restaurants weren’t what she had in mind when she talked about pleasure and Fran knew that. But, not yet. Marla relaxed into the chair. “Where’s the fun in that?” she laughed. She had to make an effort to keep her expression in check, because actually, that laughter carried with it a bit of a surprise to Marla. She was sort of lying, as usual. She was decidedly not the kind that believed a person needed any sort of company to enjoy the good things about life. She had never included seconds or thirds in her plans of success, and she certainly wouldn’t recommend, even less advertize, doing that. She was only mildly surprised about the sudden but most likely manageable urge to share dinner again with the particular woman currently sitting in front of her.

Fran, on the other hand, after the blonde leaned back on her chair, realized they both had been strongly leaning into the table, subconsciously being close to throwing it aside to get closer to one another. Slowly, Fran mimicked Marla’s actions and, without avoiding the feeling of getting caught, also leaned back on her chair. “So, we should probably start talking now, right? About the reason we’re here, and maybe set some rules,” Fran suggested.

“Rules,” Marla rolled her eyes while a waiter served them each a glass of wine, “Makes it sound like we’re playing a game.”

“Fine,” Fran agreed, without giving up the firm belief that they were absolutely playing a game. “What are the terms of our deal, then?”

“You help me win this case, teach me every trick you can. I’ll give you five percent of the money I make.”

Despite the recognition that nothing in Marla’s tone suggested she was asking instead of ordering, Fran found it impossible not to negotiate, partially just for the fun of it. “I make you win the case,” she said, “teach you the tricks, introduce you to my favorite gullible judge… And you give me twenty percent.”

Again, Marla laughed. She trained her smile to look simply amused instead of thoroughly pleased at having someone boldly fighting back to her. “Make me win, give me the dirty tricks, and the judge. I might give you ten percent.”

Slowly, Fran shook her head. “The tricks, the judge, training, and preparation. I’ll make you win twice as much as whatever number you have in your head. You’ll give me twenty percent.”

“You were supposed to say fifteen, you know? Terrible negotiator.”

“I’m not negotiating, I’m telling you my price.”

For the first time, Marla looked away. She was prepared for giving ten percent to Fran, she wasn’t prepared for Fran actually disconcerting her. Exciting, sure. But, instinctually, Marla’s defenses flared up, her emotional walls threatened to rise up and push Fran out and away from this sweet and previously unexplored territory of Marla’s comfort zone. Mostly, Marla was analytical rather than impulsive, and dealt with her problems effectively and methodically after thoroughly thinking them through. However, if there was ever a moment for some fight or flight response to activate in her, it was the moment Fran started looking at her like she was worth more than the money they were discussing.

“We’ll discuss your ten percent later,” Marla grinned, “why don’t you tell me about that infamous training and preparation you mentioned before.”

Temporarily, Fran relented. Perhaps she could tell they’d reached a wall, but she’d certainly continue to push, and eventually, Marla would have to give in on the money. “To win your case, you’ll have to put in a lot of work,” Fran explained, “you have to study previous cases, your adversary, the law, the judge… the whole system.”

“And you know those things?”

“I can teach you everything I know.”

Again, they were both leaning on the table toward each other. “Where, exactly, would this teaching take place?”

“I can do outstanding work anywhere you want,” Fran smiled.

It was at that moment, with that one smile, that Marla was forced to face the reality of the situation of her game: Fran knew how to play. And Fran wasn’t going to play by the rules. In fact, if Marla’s shark-like grin was her weapon of choice that dazzled innocent prey into her lap, then Fran utilized that discreet smirk of hers in pretty much the same way. Marla was almost angry at the fact that she had battled so much to win Fran’s smile just to have her own sword pointed back at her. She was almost angry, save for the growing desire to leap into that trap. But… there was the money, the court, the case…

“After we win, we’ll celebrate,” Marla finally stated. She was thoughtful, and her fingers were mindlessly playing with the bottle of wine they were quickly consuming.

Fran nodded, catching the complicated but promising agreement they were making. “We will,” she said, raising her glass for a toast.

--

In her car, the only thing Marla was thinking about was the image of a judge ruling that the absurdly large vape company that put her out of business had to pay her an unnecessarily large sum of money to pay for the damages that they technically didn’t do. Marla would give a small but still undecided percentage of the money to Fran, they’d celebrate and say goodbye, then she’d finally sell her hopeless shop and start all over again. She wasn’t looking forward to starting a business from the ground up again, but it was the only thing she could do now. 

Fran was waiting for her at the public library.

“I didn’t take you for a bookworm, Fran,” Marla greeted her.

“You’d be surprised,” Fran threw a dazzling smile over her shoulder as she led them to a table. “Get comfortable,” she said with a smirk, pulling a chair out for Marla, “I’ll be back in a minute with your homework.”

Taking a seat, Marla chuckled. In that brief moment of solitude, she studied the layers of Fran’s playfulness. Mocking chivalry by pulling out a chair for her, for example. Laughing at the traditionally manly attitude but still carrying out the gesture. It exposed and ridiculed the expectations, but Fran’s nonchalance, the innate part of it and the most likely carefully prepared part, it left no room for anything but dangerous sincerity. Does that mean these little acts were just kindness, just flirting, just part of Fran as a person? Most importantly, why did Marla care so much about little details as these?

“Alright,” Fran said as she returned and placed a heavy book on the table, “Previous cases,” she added, taking a seat beside Marla.

“This explains why a police officer gave me a business card that said ‘private investigator’, right?” Marla guessed, taking a look at Fran and how comfortable and excited the woman looked to be doing this kind of job.

“Right,” Fran nodded, and wearing a slightly proud grin she added, “occasional work with bounty hunters too.” Upon seeing the cautiously impressed look on the blonde’s face, she continued, “I use the police’s resources and get jobs that are far more exciting and lucrative. Sounds fair to me.”

“How dishonest,” Marla commented with an appreciative tone, “you’ve never got caught in trouble for it?”

The amused look Fran sent her way was answer enough. She had a talent for this. “The worst that’s happened is ruining a relationship or two,” she shrugged, “things tend to go south if your partner is incapable of matching your ambition.”

“I see,” Marla mumbled. Part of her wanted to be upset about finding a woman beyond intriguing and attractive in every possible way only years after she had personally decided she would never be able to accept a relationship. Marla couldn’t fathom being the kind of stupid person to break herself and her life into pieces to fit someone else that would take so much time and effort and money and dignity…

“Are you ready?” Fran asked, interrupting Marla’s thoughts.

Marla nodded, confident enough that her expression wouldn’t reveal how simply staring at Fran made her feel more like that kind of stupid person than she’d felt in years.

---

The days Marla and Fran spent at the library were surprisingly exciting. Since they first met, Marla was under the impression that the brunette’s presence could make any time and place interesting enough. However, the businesswoman found herself unexpectedly captivated by the work they were doing.

Law had never attracted Marla beyond the necessary procedures to legally exist in a society. She was only now starting to see how far and how thin it was possible to stretch that concept. And people did it, every day, often without any repercussions. It was only a matter of having the guts and intelligence to go for it, plus a convenient amount of knowledge and connections on the right side of the law didn’t hurt. Whenever Marla and Fran exchanged a look over the books they were studying, they couldn’t deny that together they both had everything they could need to succeed at this endeavor.

Inevitably, as it happens naturally when two people spend a lot of time together, they got to know more about each other. It wasn’t easy, considering the kind of people they both were. It was a little like walking through a dark maze together, each one armed with a flashlight, and only occasionally their beams of light met in one spot to reveal breadcrumbs of their past lives. Within a week it was discovered that Fran was born in Mexico, Marla had attended and dropped out of college, Fran drank too much coffee, and Marla, somehow, was coaxed into confessing the real nature of her relationship with Curtis.

“No, we never dated,” Marla scoffed loud enough to hide the delight she felt about Fran feeling like she had to inquire about that, “I suppose you could say he was my stepbrother. Eldest son of my mother’s third husband, I think. We get along well, he’s hardworking, doesn’t ask questions, we all need a loyal ally in life, don’t we?”

Fran tilted her head. “That’s sweet,” she cooed, getting a kick out of getting Marla to roll her eyes at her. “I’ll be back in a moment, we’re almost done here,” she added then, getting out of her seat to go look for one last book for the day.

She didn’t expect to feel Marla follow her into the long and quiet alley of the library. Fran stood close to the shelves, reading the books, looking for a specific title. A moment later, Marla was standing close behind her, so close, and reaching out with a hand to leisurely run her finger over the spine of the books, more or less trapping Fran right there and there with Marla’s breath on the back of her head. 

“Why are you doing this?” Marla asked, her voice low and serious, leaving behind the amiable tone they had gotten used to back at the table.

Fran thought about it for an extra moment. This was unexpected and unprompted, she thought they’d already had this conversation before. Why was Marla suddenly asking questions? What out of character spark of insecurity had inspired her to demand an answer from Fran? What worry was she trying to soothe? And why was Fran hoping the blonde felt troubled by the exact same feeling she was experiencing? They were both in it just for the money, but…

The thing is, Fran could tell neither of them was the kind of person to ask for more from someone. Conveniently, they also weren’t the type that would ever give away more than the strictly necessary for free. If they wouldn’t yield, if they refused to give, if they wouldn’t admit they wanted more… why were they even standing there so close together without touching at all? Their only hope was the other one was experiencing that unexpected and inarticulate feeling of, for the first time, wanting just a little more from someone else.

“Me?” Fran whispered, as her hand moved confidently and slowly toward Marla’s, “I’m here for my twenty percent of the money,” she said, shoving down whatever additional desires were thrumming on her insides. Her hand found Marla’s hand, and her fingers curled over the other’s, delicately urging that courageous hand that had set out to trap her there to move. Fran guided Marla’s hand, still skimming over the spine of the books, until they reached the one she needed. Coincidentally, the journey required for Marla’s arm to move lower, to curl closer around Fran, their arms touching, so close she almost lost her balance.

When Fran finally let go of Marla’s hand and pulled out the book she wanted, she felt beyond satisfied to hear the sharp intake of breath from the woman behind her. Then, Fran turned around, at the same moment Marla was pulling back her arm, resulting in Marla’s fingers briefly brushing Fran’s hips. Her fingers didn’t grip and pull closer as she wished they would, but that fleeting touch had to be enough, for now, Marla told herself. And, “Ten percent,” she told Fran.

The brunette sighed. Now that their tortuous little dance was over and they were looking each other in the eyes again, she could face Marla’s question. “I told you, Marla, I need the money,” Fran stated confidently, leaning her back on the bookshelf behind her.

“Why me though,” Marla wondered, her eyes and voice here icy enough to fool almost everyone into thinking there was no vulnerability in her question and only curiosity, “why my money?”

So, Fran was right. Maybe Marla wanted, as much Fran, some kind of confirmation that the other one just might be wanting a little more than money. The problem now was about who would have to admit it first.

“The amount of money I want,” Fran explained, her hand discreetly moving up to toy with the hem of the jacket Marla was wearing that day, only lightly pulling on it, “it’s impossible to earn in rightful ways, Marla. And you are… honestly?”

“Honestly,” Marla echoed the terrifying word.

Fran smiled and, with the bare amount of honesty necessary, replied, “You’re the only devil I’ve come across genuinely willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want… and do it in style.”

That earned her a beautiful and genuine laugh from Marla. The first laugh of unbridled joy of many more to come. It wasn’t completely erased by the deeply thoughtful look on Marla’s face as she continued to stare at Fran after the two of them finished laughing. 

“You look worried,” Fran commented, and failed to sound teasing, it was closer to sincere worry. Plus, she was struggling hard not to tuck an unruly strand of soft blond hair behind Marla’s ear. But that tender gesture might be too much for them at the moment. Their chemistry was a delicate but dangerous thing. The wrong move might send the other one flying away in an instant. They were pulled close like magnets, but to actually touch each other, that had to be a much careful and deliberate thing.

Luckily, Marla wasn’t good at denying herself going for the things she wanted. Without breaking eye contact with Fran, her hand found the one that had been maddeningly playing with her jacket. Holding hands with Fran for the first time, Marla was shocked to feel in equal measures complete contentment, and a desperate need to touch even more.

“I have one goal, Fran,” the blonde said, “The one thing I want right now is to win that case and take the money. But, well,” she playfully shrugged, “I might have been accused, once or twice, of being susceptible to greed, so… What if I suddenly want to take more than just the money?”

Slowly, Fran nodded, absorbing this information. It was worth noticing just how Marla still avoided being completely explicit in her desires, but she was still a woman unafraid of taking what she wanted. And those words, well, they highly suggested she wanted Fran.

“Are you asking me if I have plans after your scandalous case is over?” Fran smiled.

Marla chuckled. She was torn between maybe… and what about today? and in the meantime she was leaning in closer and closer… until a cough, a stranger coughing interrupted them.

“I hate the library,” Marla groaned, immediately dropping Fran’s hand and walking with her head held high back to their table.

Fran chuckled, and looked down at her hands, somewhat surprised to discover that with Marla standing so close she had managed to hold on to the book. “Really?” she asked out loud, “I’m loving it more than ever.”

---

“Oh my God, Fran, this is the most tedious thing in the world.”

“Marla, we’ve barely been here an hour.”

“An hour!” Marla exhaled, dramatically letting her head hit the headrest of Fran’s car.

As it turned out, Marla wasn’t cut out for stake-out jobs. Fran had insisted that it was important to study the enemy, to find out every detail, no matter how small, that they could possibly use in court to support the idea that they were responsible for the attack on Marla’s shop.

“How do you do it?” Marla asked. She no longer sounded like she was going out of her mind. Now her voice was a combination of sincere curiosity and a desperate attempt at finding a distraction.

“Patience,” Fran replied, her eyes still fixed on the window of the offices they had marked as a target.

Scoffing, Marla continued to protest, “This is madness. I could just as easily go in, pretend to be somebody else, and get the information we need.”

“Of course you would do something like that,” Fran laughed, not displeased at finding out they had different strategies that could perfectly complement each other, “Maybe next time.” She didn’t have to turn her head around to know Marla was staring at her with that specific look of delicate surprise she got when Fran said something unexpected. In fact, “You’re staring,” Fran added, enjoying calling her out for it. Her face was still turned to the window, but she raised her right hand between them to point at Marla, who scoffed and pushed the accusatory finger away. But, additionally, she continued to hold on to Fran’s hand now in the space between them.

“Well, forgive me for being bored out of my mind,” Marla replied, still putting on a playfully exaggerated tone of annoyance, even if her hand was sweetly holding Fran’s, and not letting go.

“I told you,” Fran finally turned around to look at Marla, not reacting to their joined hands, not pulling away either, “I could have done this part by myself.”

“Maybe next time,” Marla threw Fran’s words back at her with a smirk that left the brunette speechless for a moment.”

This part of the job, besides the exasperating boredom caused to Marla, proved to be fascinating. Not exactly for what they learned about the company they were trying to incriminate. But for what they learned about each other. The way Fran worked, the way Marla got easily bored. The silence between them that was more comfortable than it had any right to be yet. The conversations happened even easier, Marla talking about the mother she despised, Fran talking about a dozen awful jobs, things they loved, things they were hated for, a little bit everything. And, at the end of the day, after Fran dropped Marla at her apartment, neither of them could really think of a good teasing comment for the other, and settled for Goodnight and See you soon that sounded a little too hopeful. That moment they had to admit to themselves that it was too late to ask, or even hope for a night spent together. They were already far deeper than they could have realized. It was only a matter of how much longer could they hold back before falling, knowing it was unlikely that they would be able to get back up without the other one. No, just one night wouldn’t do. It was only a matter of time.

---

Finally, Fran took Marla to court. Not for Marla’s big day against her sworn enemy, no. This was just part of the plan, part of their deal. 

“Listen, I’m actually not that good with, you know, people,” Fran said as they walked up the steps of the building, “but, well, one way or another, I know enough people to just introduce you to everyone you need to know here, okay?”

“Okay,” Marla nodded easily keeping up with the brunette’s pace, “also, you can just admit you have an ex-girlfriend in every significant office of this city, Fran.”

With a chuckle, Fran turned to look at her, sunglasses in place and her smile nearly blinding. “People owe me favors, that’s all,” she shrugged.

From the moment they stepped into the building, it was almost as if Fran became a different person. For someone that benefited from going unnoticed as part of her job, Fran surely had important contacts all around. And she wasn’t only Fran. She was Frances, Frankie, Miss Masters, Mrs. Masters even, and she only shook her head whenever Marla tried to inquire about the names. 

“You have to meet my friend, Miss Grayson”, “She’s the most hardworking woman I know”, “Have you two met?”, “Oh, you’re going to love Marla”, “Is it okay if I leave you two alone for a second?”, “I knew you two would get along!”, “Isn’t Marla so charming?”

One sentence and a convenient excuse and then Fran left Marla alone with secretaries, judges, and everyone in between that had some influence in the way things worked around there. Then it was Marla’s turn, and Marla was good with people. She was great with people. Did she like them? Far from it. But did she know every trick to steal their trust in a matter of seconds? She absolutely did. By the time they said goodbye to a judge that had greeted Fran with the kindness of a close relative that even asked about her mother, Marla had a feeling she wouldn’t mind visiting that place again soon, maybe even often if it proved to be lucrative enough.

“I’m actually impressed right now,” Marla whispered as the two of them hurried down a nearly deserted hallway, filled with adrenaline after knowing she successfully fooled about a dozen people in one afternoon. Her hand now instinctively moved towards Fran, this time her fingers curled around the other woman’s wrist, tugged her closer.

“You are incredible,” Fran whispered right back, “people just fall to their knees for you.”

“I wonder why it doesn’t work with the one person I want though.”

Having Marla whisper those words so close to her ear was almost enough to quite literally bring Fran to her knees. “Fuck,” she sighed, “Come here.” She firmly took Marla’s hand in hers and quickly guided her to a small hallway that she knew well and was confident could be private enough for a stolen moment. “You said,'' Fran said, her voice breathy as if she’d been running all the way there, “that we would wait until after we win your case.”

“What do I know?” Marla didn’t miss a beat to reply, her eyes going crazy between Fran’s lips and eyes, “You’ve made me stupid, Fran, I don’t trust what I said before I just,” she couldn’t say more, she didn’t have to.

In a single motion, Marla’s hands on Fran’s hips pushed her against her wall behind her, and Fran’s hands on the lapels of Marla’s jacket pushed her closer. Then it was just the two of them, breaths ragged and hearts wild, blue and brown eyes going darker, suspended in a moment when time stood still. Their hands were unstoppable, grazing, pulling, tugging. At Marla’s neck. Fran’s back. Marla’s wait. Fran’s jaw. When Fran tilted her chin up, Marla pulled away, and when Marla turned her head the right way, Fran avoided her. It was maddening, to hold back this way, but they’d become addicted to the push and pull they’d started, and couldn’t let go. Not even with their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling, their noses brushing, just a feather-light touch of their lips, in contrast to the death grip of their hands on each other’s clothes. A moment longer and they could have fainted right there in each other’s arms. Until finally, the games were over, the dance came to an end, their barriers crashed and burned with the first feverish kiss they shared. Burning and desperate to kiss each other since the first night they met. Sighs and moans that shouldn’t have been allowed in such a place, but couldn’t be restrained. Their teeth came out to play too quickly, biting and tugging at each other’s lips. Tongues that didn’t know a thing beyond a desperate need to explore, to taste the other’s mouths.

One last bite, one last kiss, and they simply had to pull away, before risking the chance of someone finding them.

“No,” Marla said, her voice still half a moan and her lips still stealing kisses. “Not like this,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” Fran followed Marla to steal a final kiss, but then she too had to pull away. “After we win,” she added, her words curling into a question at the end.

“After we win,” Marla agreed more convinced than ever before of the fact that they would conquer this challenge. They were both trying to slow down their breathing before moving away from their hiding place. Marla took the opportunity to further break the spell of caution they had held over each other. She gently brushed Fran’s hair off her face, her hand then resting softly on the other woman’s cheek, while her thumb just brushed the gloriously swollen lips. “You deserve better,” Marla whispered, her voice was so soft then that the brunette didn’t think she’d ever heard her speak like that. It brought chills all over her body.

“That’s arguable,” Fran smiled. It wasn’t a moment of humility, even less so a matter of self-recrimination. She was simply stating the fact. She was aware of the kind of things she’d done in her life, and the kind of things they were both willing to do to get what they wanted. But did they deserve it? The good things they wanted out of life? 

“Wouldn’t you say,” Marla matched her smile, “that just because we’re brave enough to want it, we deserve everything we desire?”

[trixie-pixie]

every perfect summer's eating me alive (until you're gone) - chapter two

ship: jankie (jan sport x jackie cox)

fic rating: teen and up audiences

warnings: no major archive warnings apply

“What’s up with you today, angel? You’re acting off,” Lagoona, the clear mother of the group, asks Jan. Lagoona has been the group-assigned mom friend since day one- equally as chaotic as the other two, but with a nurturing layer added on top of that.

“I’m fine,” Jan quickly responds. “Just hungover. Sorry.”

“Baby, please don’t apologize. But also, I know that excuse is bullshit. The Jan that I know would never be like this no matter how much she had to drink- and I know you didn’t drink more than you do any other night,” Rosé chimes in.

“Hey!” Jan playfully hits Rosé on the shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m not lying .”

“Jan, my love-” Lagoona grabs her hands. “Something is wrong- you don’t have to tell us what, but can you please just let us know if you’re okay? It worries me when you get like this.”

Jan immediately feels the guilt seep in- she knows that she’s being difficult. All day, she’s been quiet and distracted- constantly zoning in and out of the conversation, not answering questions, generally just being out of it. She hates worrying her friends- but how does she explain this? Oh, my best friend agreed to go on a date with a guy who I have absolutely nothing against, and now I’m so jealous it’s causing me physical pain . Sounds completely sane.

Jan sighs. “I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing baby, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Rosé reminds her. Her oldest friend has been trying to break Jan’s nervous habit for years- it never works, but Jan appreciates the sentiment.

“Jackie is out on a date with Cody.”

Jan digs her nails into the carpet- even the thought of what Jackie could be up to makes her upset. Her eyes begin to sting with tears prickling at them, and she feels her face flush with embarrassment. God, why is she even crying? She just feels so stupid -

“Oh, baby, come here. Don’t cry- what’s wrong?” Rosé comforts her, patting her lap. Jan hooks her legs over the pink haired girls lap, head on her shoulder. Seeking comfort in Rosé was nothing new for her- the older girl was incredibly physically affectionate, and an eternally touch starved Jan would always be grateful for that. Ros é wraps her arms around the blonde girl, who feels a few hot tears trail down her cheeks.

“I just- I don’t know!” Jan cries. Lagoona rubs her back as Rosé begins to stroke the smaller girl's hair. “It just makes me so jealous and angry and I hate it- it’s so stupid, I don’t even know why. I hate the idea of her liking someone else. It’s supposed to just be me and her- and now everything is gonna be weird because I’m making it weird and I just want her to choose me .” Her voice breaks on the last word and her friends just hold her tighter, but share a look over her head.

“Jan, sweetie-” Lagoona whispered sweetly. “Have you considered that you might like Jackie?”

It’s like Jan’s heart stops- actually, it feels like everything stops.

“I don’t- why would I like Jackie? I’m not even gay-” Jan trips over her words, her hands digging deeper into the carpet on Lagoona’s bedroom floor.

“Baby, you’re just about as straight as a rainbow- and you are definitely in love with Jackie.” Rosé teases. Jan curls in on herself. She just wants to hide.

“I can’t- I can’t be gay. Fuck, what would everyone say? I just can’t- and I definitely can’t be in love with Jackie- fuck, it would ruin everything, she’s gonna hate me forever, fuck, fuck, fuck -” Jan was spiralling. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t feel her hands, she could already feel her tears soaking Rosé’s shirt-

“Babe, please just breathe with me, okay? It’s okay- you aren’t ruining anything. You’re allowed to be gay, okay? You’re allowed to be whoever you are- you’re safe with us. Rosie and I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Lagoona tries to sooth the blonde, rubbing small circles on her back.

“No, I can’t- I’m sorry- I just-” Jan let out another sob. She could feel the waves of panic continue to rise in her, could taste bile in her throat. She felt like she was going crazy- was this what dying was like? Was Jan dying? She digs her nails into the first thing she can reach, which is unfortunately her own leg.

“Baby, baby, none of that-” Lagoona soothes, taking Jan’s hand in her own to stop her from hurting herself. “Breathe with me, alright? In, out. In, out. That’s it, you’re doing so good. Can you keep breathing like that for me?” Jan nods, shakily copying Lagoona’s breathing.

Jan rests her head back on Rosé’s shoulder, who just holds her tighter. “You’re doing okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine, it’s just a panic attack. Just keep breathing, that’s it.” The pink haired girl continues to comfort her, and Jan burrows her head deeper into her friends shoulder. She feels safe in her arms- shaken, but safe.

“Thank you guys-” Jan mumbles. “I’m sorry for freaking out like that-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Rosé reminds her. “You’ve seen the two of us lose our shit more than enough times.”

Lagoona playfully shoves Rosé, and Jan softly chuckles into her shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay, doll?” Lagoona asks.

Jan nods. “I’m okay- I think- I’m a lesbian. I’m gay. I like girls. I like Jackie .”

Jan lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in, and is immediately enveloped in the tightest, most loving hug she’s ever had.

“I am so proud of you, baby-” Rosé says, kissing the top of Jan’s head.

Jan giggles into the embrace, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders. Jan is gay . Super gay. She likes women. This is both the scariest and the most wonderful revelation she’s ever had- but the acceptance from her friends makes it feel like coming home.

“Do you need anything?” Lagoona asks, ever the mother figure. “I can get you some water, or you can just rest if you want.”

“I’m gonna be honest, gorge, I’m completely fucking exhausted-” Jan laughs. “Can we watch a movie or something? Something happy, preferably.”

“Disney?” Rosé asks, and Jan’s face brightens.

“I think your girlfriend is starting to rub off on you there, Rosie-” Lagoona teases. “Are you trying to fuck cartoons as well?”

Jan laughs- genuinely laughs- and in this moment, she knows that everything is going to be okay.

--

Later in the evening, Jan is lying in her own bed, staring at her ugly popcorn ceiling. She likes Jackie . Her best friend, Jackie. Her straight best friend.

She lets out a heavy sigh. If it was going to happen to anyone, it was going to happen to her. Hopeless romantic Jan, falling in love with a girl who could never love her back. A girl who she could never confess her love to. Her head sinks further into her pillow at the thought.

As if on cue, her phone rings. As she sees the contact, the dread begins to rise in her throat- it’s Jackie. Jackie, who is going to call Jan and tell her about her date. Her date with Cody . Stupid fucking Cody.

Jan picks up. She can’t not.

“Jan! I just got back, I told you I’d call! Oh my god, I have so much to tell you-” Jackie begins to ramble, and Jan thanks the gods that Jackie didn’t try to FaceTime her, because there is no way she’d be able to fake a smile right now. Every word Jackie says feels like a stab to the chest.

“Tell me all about it, Jacks-” Jan forces the words out of her throat. And Jackie does- she tells her about how Cody bought her tea, how he offered her his jacket when she got cold. How she’s still wearing it. Jan has never felt so much resentment towards a piece of fabric in her life as she does now.

Jackie continues to gush, and Jan lets her for as long as she can handle. She tries not to let her voice get choked, showing the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes at any moment. She desperately tries to listen to Jackie- but at one point, she just can’t . She wants to throw up again, like she did when Jackie first announced her interest in Cody. She wants to disappear- to stop existing.

“I have to go.” She blurts out.

“Oh- okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, alright?” Jackie sounds hurt- Jan feels terrible. Just add that to reasons why she hates herself today.

“Yeah. I’ll see you. Congrats again- have a good night!” Jan says as quickly as possible, hating how badly she just wants to leave.

“See you,” Jackie responds. Jan notes the lack of an I love you tacked on at the end of her sentence.

[burnedbyshoto]

Evening, Officer

Kinktober Day 17 ~ kink: degradation

pairing: ashido mina x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 3,435

a/n: READ WLW YOU HOES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also I have no excuse as to why this is late except that my period started and I took an accidental 4 hour nap

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Stereotypes were the bane to your existence.

They were cruel, mean, and unneeded. Why they were even created was something that you wish you could give a definite answer to. Were they created out of love at first and then twisted into horribleness? Or were they always derogatory?

You had no idea.

All you knew is that people always held two stereotypes triumphantly over your head. You were a woman so you couldn’t drive, and that you were gay so you even worse at driving.

Those were the two things forever held over your head. You had a conversation with someone every three days about your driving skills. It seemed that this stereotype was forever chained to your leg.

Were they wrong?

Of course! You were an amazing driver! You always looked over your shoulder before changing lanes and… you can’t even lie.

You were an awful driver.

Every day without fail you were either fifteen miles above the speed limit or fifteen below it. You could never parallel park, and would always hug one side of a parking space. You always used your blinkers! But again, you also left them on to the frustration of other drivers. You cut people off, flipping others off when they did the same to you. You slam your brakes instead of easing into it, and often you get distracted with your playlist to drive. You also clipped the curbs a lot. All and all, how you passed your driving exam was a mystery no one could solve.

The largest evidence of your shitty driving was the number of tickets you had as well. You were good though! The major points against your record happened once a year! But this year it seemed you were dwindling on your typical luck as you were racing home. Trying to tune in to the Bachelor. Why you liked that show was beyond you, but the drinking game always left you buzzed and ready to take on the world. You knew, as well, that you had two speeding tickets. You also figured that there were two months before you would be clear to restart your ticket clock. But it was already super late. The lack of cars on the highway made you press past the seventy-five miles limit by a whopping twenty miles.

You had taken this route before, and the highway patrol had never been there. Was it your luck that as you passed a large sign you were then met with bright blue and red lights. The all too familiar sound of a siren blaring as you cursed. You didn’t resist, however, turning on your blinker and pulling off to the side of the road. Your head slamming against the wheel as you awaited for the officer to come over. It felt like an eternity before a flashlight shone through your window. Tapping against the glass window as you lowered the window without looking.

“License and registra--” Your head peaked up to catch the pink-skinned officer. “Oh my god, are you serious, y/l/n?!” The female voice groaned, and you moaned further as your hands fished for your purse and your papers.

This was not the first time you had been pulled over by Officer Ashido.

“Evening, officer.” You sniffle, already thinking about the incoming notice of the suspension of your license.

Officer Ashido had never let you off with a warning before! You wish you were kidding when you said that she is the only officer to have written you up for speeding. Most male officers looked down your shirt and gave you a warning. You weren’t opposed to using your body to get away with things! You were not ashamed of it either! You just wished Officer Ashido was a hopeless lesbian so you could get away with things.

“Do I even need to tell you what you did wrong here?” She asks you, a coy smirk on her face as she leans on the threshold of your window. You can feel your face turning on fire as you sigh, staring straight ahead you nod. Why did you feel like a misbehaved puppy whenever she was involved?

“I’m especially pretty today? So you felt the need to pull me over and tell me?” You flirt anyways, your eyes falling onto her grinning face. Officer Ashido laughs shaking her head as she takes out her ticket machine.

“So,” She continues ignoring your words. “Is this the seventh time I’ve caught you?”

Your face burns as your hands reach out for her, her fingers punching in a serial of numbers into the machine. “Let's not be hast here!” You interject as her fingers pause, her eyebrow quirks as she looks at you.

“Why’s that?”

You know she knows, there’s no doubt about it especially with the devious glint in her eyes. You felt your blood boil as you square her off, “It’ll be my third ticket!” You say as you try reading the screen. “I can’t get my license taken away.”

“Sounds like you knew what you were doing wrong then, sweetheart.” Mina clicks her tongue, but she doesn’t go back to writing up your ticket. “You took a chance and slipped. It happens to the best of us. Tell your boyfriend to take you places from here on out then.”

Your cheeks puff out as you’re a bit flabbergasted with her words. What about you screamed that you had a boyfriend?! “I don’t have a boyfriend! I also don’t have roommates!” You whined, hoping that there would be some sort of sympathy in her heart.

“Should’ve thought of that before speeding on my highway.” Officer Ashido sighs as her fingers begin tapping away at the buttons.

“There’s never been anyone there before!”

“So, you’re admitting to speeding multiple times?”

“NO!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you confessed to earlier?”

“I wasn’t confessing anything! I--just--fucking shit, Officer Ashido, I can not get this ticket. Please, I’m begging you! I’ll do anything!”

You watch as she pushes off from your car, her arms folding as she turned away from you. Your eyes widen as you continue looking at her, unsure of what she was even doing. You felt on edge. You had never, ever, used that phrase before. Anything could mean anything, and a part of you feared she would say something dumb or straight out refuse. Your lips part as she turns around, a serious expression on the typically jovial cops face.

“Alright, let’s get you down to the station!”

“T-The… the station?” You repeat confused. Why did you need to go to the station? Your show was playing!

“Well, considering this is your third violation of the year. On top of you attempting to seduce an on-duty officer, you are violating the law.”

“WHAT?!” You panic as you feel your stomach fall out of your ass. Strings of apologies pour out of your mouth, tears welling in your eyes as you try to show how apologetic you were. “Please forgive me! I didn’t mean for you to--fuck I’m an idiot, come on Officer Ashido, just this--”

You freeze as her giggles sound in your ears, and you look up. Your tears quickly dying in your eyes as you stared at her laughing form. Oh, she was joking. Annoyance floods your veins as you pout, your hands crossing over your chest as you look ahead again.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to take that!” She laughs as she leans in towards the window again. You can feel her soft breaths hitting your neck as you try to remain unaffected. Officer Ashido was someone you found to be very attractive. But you knew nothing would ever come out of pining after an officer you only saw when breaking the law. “Now, let’s talk about this ‘you’ll do anything’ business.” She sighs and you snap your gaze over to her.

“What makes you think that still stands after what you did?” You retort, your eyes angry as your eyes shift over to her bottom lip that is captured between her teeth.

“So you want the ticket?”

“...no.”

“Good, because if I’m being honest I have something I want to attempt with you. Of course, if you’re up to it.”

Your breathing feels like lead as you stare at her blown wide pupils. Something convinces you to continue. “Depends, what do you want?”

“You see,” She removes the officer’s hat, her curly pink hair tied back into a messy bun. It was nearing the end of her shift as well it seems. “For the past few… years. I haven’t been having that much fun in bed. Long story short, men… aren’t my favorite things anymore.” You feel your fingers tremble as you stare at her face. It seems she’s trying to judge how you’re reacting to her story. The trembled breathe that escapes your mouth lets her know to continue. “They’re boring, egotistical, and by all means never want to see a woman on top of them. I’ve always been attracted to women, but I’ve never tested out the waters before. But, I want to try it with you, of course, only if you want to.”

Your chest heaves as you feel very, very turned on. Her yellow eyes on yours as they trail against your chest, the tank top you wore leaving little to imagine.

The words pour out of your mouth before you can even think about the consequences of your actions.

“Get to the backseat.”

Your fingers unlocking the car doors, you unbuckle yourself from the seat. Your fingers rolling up the window as Officer Ashido slips into your backseat. The car door slamming as you relocked the car. With the car doors locked, you get up from your seat. Jumping over the armrest to get to the backseat where Ashido is expecting you. The red and blue lights of her patrol car blinding you as it flashed in your eyes.

Her strong hands grip your waist, and you gasp as in your blinded state her lips latching onto your neck. Her teeth nibbling on your vein makes you moan, your back arching as she presses on, unafraid of what she’s doing.

“Tell me...” She wonders against your skin. Your fingers clutching her biceps between your hands as you lie against your seat. “What does my dirty little slut like?”

Your eyes open. Degradation was something you’ve never tried before. But those words send heat towards your cunt. You moan as her fingers trail under your tank top, her nails dragging against your sensitive skin. Her hands are on your waist, and she drags your legs until your ass is adjacent to her crotch. Your hips come to roll against hers, a movement that causes her to hiss.

Her smile makes your walls flutter in anticipation as your mouth opens to answer, “I… I like being fucked by a dom who isn’t afraid to wrestle around with me. I’m not giving in quickly, and I don’t expect to be on top. I love being tribbed, it’s so fucking hot feeling a girl grinding her soaked pussy into my own.” You grin as your watch Ashido’s head drop backward, a preemptive moan escaping her mouth at the thought of doing all those things. You weren’t ashamed to admit it, and you glowed at her inability to look at you right now. You didn’t ever sleep with anyone with a degradation kink, but you knew about it well enough to play with her own emotions. “I love being used as someone’s sex toy. Using me after dominating me in whatever way and desire they want. I love watching people play with themselves as I’m forced to watch, the look on their faces as they’re getting off. The look on their face when-- shit!”

There’s a hard thrust against your aching core, and Ashido has your hands above your head. Cold metal circling your wrists as you watch her handcuff you to the door. “Officer--!”

“Call me, Mina.” She grins before her lips come and connect with yours. Goosebumps shoot through your body as your hands tug against the restraint. The cold metal hissing against your burning skin as her hands push your shirt up and over your breasts. Your face twists with pain and pleasure as her hands force your back to arch. A muffled moan escapes your lips as she undoes your bra. Her hands shoving the trapped material up with the shirt.

You pant as Mina pulls away, her fingers unbuttoning her blue workshirt as she grinned. “Don’t you just look lovely like this. Saying things about how you’re a bratty sub, but look at you. You’re trembling with excitement. Such a fucking whore, aren’t you? How long have you waited for me to do this to you, hm? Did you want me to fuck your dirty fucking pussy the first time around? How many people have you fucked to get out of a ticket before, are you a desperate whore as I think you are?”

An aroused and insulted moan escapes your lips as Mina pulls the white tank top over her head. Her breasts restrained behind a sports bra as she leaned back down. “I want a fucking answer, whore.”

Your breathing hitches as you stare into her lust-filled eyes, her emitting confidence was very quickly overwhelm you. Was this really her first time domming?

“I’ve n-never done this!” You stutter as her fingers pull off your pants, your hips bucking with the desperate need of attention to your throbbing core.

Mina chuckles as she spreads your legs apart, her hot breaths hitting your soaked core causing you to whine. Chills of pleasure spreading among your skin as you cry out her name. “I’m glad because you’re mine and only mine, got it?” Mina asks you, her fingers tracing your clothed slit. Your head nods rapidly in agreement.

Mina’s fingers push aside your panties, and her fingers push into your dripping core. Your back arches off the seat, your body almost tumbling off as you scream her name. “God, you’re such a tight fucking little whore. You really wanted this to be the end result, didn’t you?” Mina snaps, her fingers curling into your walls. You sob in response, the overwhelming pleasure spreading like fire through your body as she coaxes her fingers against your walls. Her other hand shoots out to your noisy mouth, sinking two fingers into your mouth as you gag against it slightly. “Come on, I know you can take my fingers like a good bitch.”

You moan against her fingers, your hips awkwardly bucking against her fingers as your backseat was definitely not spacious enough to maneuver without care. As if she was not doing enough, Mina’s head tilts down to suck onto your pert nipples, your gagged scream only riling her further. Her tongue swirls your stiff nipple around in her mouth, the sucking sensation of her mouth making you plead to her around her fingers. Her eyes are locked on your desperate eyes. She doesn’t stop, her fingers now scissoring within you as you shudder against her movements.

Mina lets go of your nipple and sighs. “You’re such a dirty fucking bitch. Your pussy is so fucking wet, are you going to come so quickly?” Your head shakes fast, your back arching off the seats as you try getting more friction to your pussy. “I know you’re a good whore, you won’t come yet right now, right?”

Her fingers leave your mouth, and you cough, your lungs finally filling with a full amount of oxygen, “Mina, please, I want you now!”

Mina doesn’t even flinch as she instead removes her fingers from within you, and removes your panties. Your strained cries also ignored as she removes her pants, your hips wriggling in hope to catch her leg between them. You need contact.

You watch with increasing lust as Mina removes her sports bra, now in front of you, gloriously naked. She’s beautiful and perfect. Her breasts look full and ready to be touched, her curves making you feel jealous as she leans back over you. “Did you know you have the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, harlot.” You grunt, not at all liking all the talking and wanting her to grind her pussy against yours. “Do you need to come now? You were taking my fingers so well, and I think my pretty fucking whore needs to come. I sure want to come against my whore.”

You sob as your hands pull desperately against the restraint, your body unable to move from your position.

“Yes, Mina!” You cry as her fingers trace the sides of your body, your hips squirming under her touch. “I want to come, and I want you to come on me.”

“You say such sweet things for a dirty cumslut.” Mina giggles as her legs straddle your opened legs.

You hiss as she lowers herself over your throbbing pussy.

“Oh my god!” You shrill as she places herself directly onto your clit.

“Fuck, shit!” Mina gasps, her back arching as your hips rut against hers. It’s obviously a new sensation for her, and her clenched eyes tell you that easily. “You’re so fucking wet, so fucking messy for me.”

“Mina!” You shout as you roll your hips, creating friction between your both soaked pussies. “Please, Mina! You need to move!”

Mina shakes her head her body still adjusting to this new pleasure as her hips finally move. The sopping sounds of your interacting pussies make you nearly shriek as Mina’s hips roll against yours. She grinds against you sinfully, as if she has been doing this for ages. “You’re so fucking wet!” She cries out her hands playing with her breasts. “You’re such a fucking slut, your pussy is fucking soaked for me!”

Your head throws back as you feel her pussy throb against yours. Your teeth biting into the side of your arm to keep yourself from screaming. “You’re so fucking good at this!” You praise against your arm. “Don’t stop mina, you’re so fucking amazing!”

“You’re such a sexy woman, slut.” Mina cries, a single hand moving from groping her breasts to placing her fingers onto both your throbbing clits. The two of you cry out, your hips bucking wildly against hers as Mina laughs.

“MINAE, FUCK!” You sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against her hips, but she keeps you under her pace.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Mina gasps, her cunt grinding even harder against you and you pull against the handcuffs so hard you’re sure to leave a bruise. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Yet here I am, my pussy fucking wet as you’re handcuffed and screaming under me. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite whore ever.”

“Mina,” You wail, your wrists and pussy throbbing as she continues rocking her cunt against yours. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more. “I am your whore. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell!”

Pleasurable waves crash through you as her fingers focus on your clit, and your walls spasm. Your breathing hitches as the pleasure within continues building mercilessly. It shoots through your body, your toes curling as your jaw drops in a soundless scream.

You’re about to tumble onto your orgasm when Mina’s finger let go of your clit, and a resulting cry rips through your throat as Mina reaches towards the floor. Her hands taking her keys and freeing your hands from handcuffs. Your hands immediately seeking both your clits and Mina’s resulting hiss making your cunt tremble.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes!” Mina cries as your moving fingers will you both on. Mina’s head is thrown back, and the lewd scream that leaves her lips does it for you.

You come hard, your hips twitching and throwing in every which way as you scream her name. Your fingers freeze against Mina’s clit, but she continues riding against your finger, coming seconds after as she falls forward. Her sweaty body pressing against yours.

The two of you lay there, your mixed breathing filling your ears as after awhile she presses away.

“Well, I think you need to give me your number, I would love to take you out.”

You feel a smile come to your face as you laugh, your head shaking.

“You don’t have that memorized yet? It’s on my registration papers!”

"Oh, I never noticed!"

[highkey-lowkey-as-hell]

ace eva and clark. that’s it that’s the prompt

Kate’s paintbrush tickled.

Eva kept her eyes closed and her face even, despite the fact that the rainbow flag Kate was painting on her cheek tickled, like, a lot. It was hard to keep her face slack, though, because she was dying to grin.

Last year, she hadn’t gotten to go to pride because her team “didn’t want people finding out” and it had sucked. This year, she was going to go with her friends and her girlfriend and have a blast.

“Okay, I’m done,” Kate said quietly, and Eva opened her eyes, resisting to urge to touch it.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Kate dropped her paintbrush in the little cup of water and glanced back up at Eva. “Anything from Farrah, Clark, and Annleigh?”

“Let me check.” Eva pulled out her phone while Kate pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “They’re almost here.”

“Cool.” Kate sat down next to Eva on the couch just as Chess came through the door. “Oh, hey.”

“We’re cutting it close, guys,” Chess tsked. “What took you so long to do the facepaint?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“You two are hopeless.” Chess rolled her eyes. “We’ll have to go pretty quickly once the rest of the team gets here.”

“We know.” Kate didn’t seem in much of a hurry to leave, pressing her entire body into Eva’s side and closing her eyes. Eva was more than happy to sit there, her body thrumming with excitement and Kate’s hand in hers, listening to Chess text the group chat. She had a rainbow flag painted on her cheek, a t-shirt that said “kiss whoever the fuck you want” in the lesbian flag colors, and her rainbow pin (Kate had pinned it on for her, which had ended in more kissing). There was something she’d been thinking about, though.

“Hey, Katie?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think, maybe, um... something in the ace colors? On my arm or something?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Kate tried to stand up, lost her balance, fell, and then quickly scrambled to her feet, flipping off a laughing Chess and shoving a snickering Eva’s shoulder. “You two can both fuck off.”

“You’d miss us,” Chess teased.

“Like hell I would.” Kate’s ears were a bit pink as she cracked open her paint supplies. “Eva, maybe just like... a flag on your shoulder?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eva watched Kate tape a rectangle as a stencil and start painting, something exciting flickering in her stomach. She wasn’t out as ace to anyone except the people in this room, plus Clark, so this felt... so exciting.

“There you go,” Kate said after a few minutes, pulling the tape off and pecking a kiss onto Eva’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Eva stared at it for a minute while Kate put her paints away again, a giddy smile fighting its way onto her lips.

She was really fucking excited.

Chess’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. “Oh, Farrah, Clark, and Annleigh are here.”

“Tell them the door’s unlocked and they can come in,” Kate instructed. Farrah was openly bi and trans, Annleigh was cishet but an ally, and Clark was literally only out to Eva, Kate, and Annleigh as ace, so as far as anyone else knew, he was also just an ally.

They came through the door just as Kate finished rinsing her paint brush, Farrah with more glitter than bare skin on her arms and legs and blue, pink, and purple face paint on.

“Woah, I think I’m blinded,” Eva joked. “You look like a bisexual disco ball.”

Farrah beamed. “Thank you, that’s exactly what I was going for!”

Annleigh smiled wryly. “There’s going to be glitter in her carpet for a month.”

“It’s gonna be awesome!” Farrah spun around, a trans flag tied around her neck like a cape. “God, I’m so excited.”

Eva glanced at Clark and caught him looking at the little ace flag on her shoulder. After a moment of thinking, she grabbed his elbow and dragged him out into the hall.

“You’re staring at this,” she said simply, pointing to her shoulder.

He coughed nervously. “No, I- no, I’m not.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Eva crossed her arms. “Are you thinking of coming out?”

“I dunno.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “It’s crossed my mind, but-”

“Kate has extra paint in those colors,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to, but... think about it, yeah?”

Everything ok? Kate mouthed as Eva came back into her room, leaving Clark alone in the hallway. She nodded, sliding an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders and glancing back at the open door.

Clark came back in a few minutes later, looking a bit nervous but resolved. “Kate, can- can I ask a favor?”

“Uh, depends on the favor.” Kate raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “An ace flag, on my shoulder, like Eva’s. Please.”

“Oh. Sure.” Kate went back to the shelf above her desk and pulled her face paint kit out for the third time. “You’re not allergic, right?”

“Nope, I’m good.” Clark let Kate put tape on his bicep and watched as she painted, shooting a nervous grin at Eva, who beamed back.

“Okay, before I put this away again, anyone else want paint?” Kate asked the room as a whole. “No? Cool.” She put it back on the shelf and slipped her hand into Eva’s as Annleigh cleared her throat.

“Okay, we’re gonna meet everyone else at the parade, okay?” Annleigh asked. A chorus of “yeps” chimed from around the room. “Alright, let’s go.”

Pride is gonna be great.

[nightwideeyes]

2020 review

do we really wanna do this? I’m not sure but god knows I need it.

shout out to 2016 me for starting this. I’ll compare it afterwards and see how many steps I’ve taken back

okay okay all jokes aside

all the bad shit that happened, all my thoughts, all my feelings

this is 2020 in retrospect, so buckle up and join me on the ride

see, I was pretty hopeful for this year because I spent half of 2019 in a toxic relationship which I deeply and passionately regret with all my heart because it took a toll on my mental health. The rest of 2019 I spent recovering from self hate and anxiety

so I went into 2020 with a fresh start fever thinking this is the year that will change things

but the anxiety didn’t really leave. throughout january i was rather okay, euphoric about the new year. at the end of february my anxiety got worse and i was overthinking a lot, started being tense a lot etc etc

then march the absolute avalanche introduced herself. miss rona. i don’t want to whine about how shit the pandemic is, how terrible it hit us all because it certainly hit people a lot harder than me but still, it’s not nice, its annoying and frustrating and can mess with someones head enough

so during march and april my anxiety was on peak levels. i was constantly mad, upset or nervous and had to spent my time in homeschool, having no distraction whatsoever

i spent a lot of time outside in the forest and discovered new magical places where I could find some peace and thats where I’ve been hiding away during may, becoming part of nature, finding back to my old self somehow

on my birthday the 11th I was feeling well, I was content and happy and thought shit would be alright again

but the day after I came home from school and received the message that my fathers cancer was back after 10 years. although I’ve pretended like it wasn’t all hopeless and things would be alright again I think it hit me the hardest this year. it’s been the starting point of me confronting myself once again with the thought of him dying, of leaving us behind, of me having all the responsibility of what he would leave us. of going through the struggle again, of going to hospitals again, of seeing him vanish again. it was devastating.

in may I attended an assessment center for a job I wanted to do with all my heart and felt so confident and strong that I could do it

but in june I received a letter of rejection and had to write myself in for another year of school because i didn’t really have an alternative

meanwhile my dads treatment got rescheduled again and again until june and he had his operation on the day I wrote my second final

so unknowingly and unnoticeably i was put under so much pressure of one unfortunate event following the next and it felt like I was just supposed to function when I didn’t want to function anymore

but these times ended and I wrote my fucking finals, passed them, celebrated a bit and my father recovered too, like we all had hoped anyway but didn’t know for sure

so summer had been the best time. although there were still restrictions on public life me and my friends had so much fun together and did amazing things and I think we just grew closer from the creativity of coming with ways to spent time with each other without having to go out much

i was doing a lot of yoga, a lot of mental self care during summer, watching atla, spending time trying to get in touch with my body and soul and I discovered some good music that helped me find myself and develop myself

at this point I would like to thank

5 seconds of summer; for making me realize that deep in my heart I will forever be teenage me stuck in my emo phase and that’s how I feel most comfortable

Upsahl; for reminding me that I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t need anyone or anything to be happy with herself

Yungblud, for reminding me its okay not to be okay and that broken people stand up for themselves and are strong together

and Blackpink, mostly for giving me more reasons to simp for cute girls

in august i was working for two weeks at a factory to earn some money and although I’ve been there before this time it’s just been hard. I felt really stupid and not taken seriously by the staff and I think that’s when I was getting anxious again, feeling very stupid and very unable to do anything right

from the anxiety starting in august it went into september with me. I started a new school year, gave this weird boy a ride to school two times before I scared him off for some reason (maybe because I was giving him badass lesbian vibes as I was playing Use Me by PVRIS in my car constantly) and was quarantined on the second day of school bc of our english teacher

in september my dad was submitted into the hospital a second time and we thought he had gotten worse again but this time it was a result of too much mental pressure. i was stressing into that again, thinking of ways I could help him with his responsibilities and worries.

the rest of september I spent in this weird state of perpetual tension and kind of continued it into october

on the fourth of october I went to Lehesten all by myself and I felt so proud and accomplished and I realized that I don’t need anyone to feel better but myself. so I went on some more field trips in october, enjoying some me time and some peace of mind, getting back into the bands I was listening to as a teen, recalling the times I felt free with myself

in november I was living off post human survival horror and felt so careless yet free of all of my worries, feeling numb but content

so until december there have been pecks of anxiety here and there but I’ve spent the fall months rather well, mentally

now december started well but the anxiety has increased again and now it’s been on moderate levels

but nonetheless I’m getting through day by day and I hope I will reach the state of carelessness again in order to collect my thoughts

so although 2020 has been a year of disappointment, hurt, fear and way too many thoughts and worries I would like to move onto the point of this list which might help me move on further

2020 positivity

a collection of things I've learned, I am grateful for and what I've experienced and done all year which I am proud of

- I've been more open and confident about my sexuality than ever before

- I've been spending so much time outside getting inspired

- I've been creative

- I've been writing the most honest and uplifting poetry ever since I started

- I've self printed and binded a poetry collection of my past and the sorrows that came with it to help overcome it

- I've started drawing again, started yoga and meditation and enhanced my spirituality, I've picked up the guitar again

- I've graduated 12th grade with an average of 1.6

- I've started 13th grade with crippling fear of failing and got used to it after a month and appreciated the challenge

- I've dealt with a big disappointment and learned that when one door closes a new one opens somewhere else

- I've learned what it means to support each other as a family but also when it's time to step back and distance yourself to protect yourself when you can't help anymore

- I've been getting in touch with the most free and careless version of myself

- I've rediscovered my love for old music I used to listen to

- I've learned that I don't need anyone to do what makes me happy

- I've learned to appreciate my friends more than ever for being my light and support

so although this year was full of disappointment and hurt and fear and worries it helped me grow

throughout this year I have been the bravest, strongest, most honest and authentic version of myself

I do not have any hopes for 2021. I just want to continue growing the roots I have dug for myself now. I want to continue blooming into the person I've strived to become all these years

I want to grow and continue blooming. I want to continue becoming the version of myself that makes me feel content about myself. But I also want to know I am valuable and whole at any time.

I want to overcome this anxiety and I want to be free of fear again.

so this is me manifesting it.

I will grow and I will continue blooming. I will continue becoming the version of myself that makes me feel content about myself. I am valuable and whole at any time. And I will overcome this anxiety and I will be free of fear again. I will not be afraid anymore. I will be clear again.

Ich werde keine Angst mehr haben, ich werde wieder klar sein.

[neshabeingchildish]

Hensley & Char: Friends or Whatever || Part 6

I have to warn y’all, this chapter has some sadness in it. I tapped into 15 year old me and how I was trying to navigate what I thought back then was me being bi, which IF someone calls me bi, I am not opposed to the able, even being technically ace, but for that time and for my feelings/experience and the language I had access to, that’s what I was considering myself as, but nobody knew that (though I was rumored gay by several people in high school, despite never seeing me in any relationships and me only ever speaking about male crushes to others) LOL, yes, Mama used to have male crushes irl, when I was a kid. But, I tapped into some of myself, but made it more Charlotte-like and leaned on the gay. Idk how well it will or won’t resonate, but I hope that I at least did Charlotte justice in her experience with looking inward, though her results may be disappointing, I hope that they at least come across as realistic, if not relatable or understandable. @just-a-j-reallly @junknstu1f @henryharts I’m not in a rush for feedback, as I know everybody has things going on. Hopefully my tags work out. A lot of people never get notified of them.

Also, as a heads up, the next chapter, whenever that might come, might also be sad too. I’m so sorry. 

The Jasper Juxtaposition

They had been trying to get Jasper into the fold of their outfit for a while. Ray wasn’t having it. Even whenever Charlotte basically throw her pride into a burning bin, seeping with trash juice, to pretend that she was secretly dating Hensley, but that they couldn’t tell anyone because, “Charlotte’s not out of the closet.” At this point, Charlotte was very heavily debating this ruse. 

There was an element of “people shouldn’t lie/joke about being in the closet,” which she strongly and firmly believed in… But… She went along with it anyway, because as she did her backstory for this test on Jasper, she found that she comfortably created the guise. 

“I can say that I’ve been curious about my sexuality for a while, and seeing you out of the closet, living your best gay life inspired me to come to you for advice on how to navigate figuring it out and in the process, we fell for each other and started dating secretly.”

Hensley laughed in her face and said, “It’s Jasper, Char. You don’t have to say all of that. Just be like, “We’re gay together, Dude.” He’s gonna accept it and be super chill about it. I’m not convinced there’s a pile of homo rattling around in him, if we’re being honest. PLUS, he thinks we’re both hot. He’s gonna get a kick out of us kissing and stuff.”

“I’m not kissing you!” Charlotte squealed.

Hensley turned up her nose, “What? Ew. No! Of course not. Ugh. This incites disgust, to think of it.” She shook her head, “Kissing a straight girl… in the mouth? I don’t know where your mouth has been. On boys, probably. I don’t want boy kiss transfer.”

“You kissed Chloe all the time!” Charlotte argued, unsure of why that was her response instead of arguing that she didn’t want to kiss Hensley (and hadn’t been kissing any boys, unless you counted kissing Jack Swagawitz at camp… which… she didn’t), and furthermore…

“Chloe was different, though. I really liked her,” Hensley said.

“You went out with Bianca as soon as you had a window,” Charlotte muttered.

“You told me to go for it! What? Now, I gotta stop listening to my smarter half?”

They bickered up until the moment that Jasper came over for them to feed him the lie. Whoa, were they bad at lying together… Fortunately, it was Jasper. Who, Charlotte was very disturbed by his fascination with the thought of them kissing. “Jasper is fetishing us, and I don’t like it,” she told Hensley.

“He’s not fetishizing you. He’s fetishizing fake lesbian you. It’s different.”

“Yeah, but… He’s… fetishizing lesbians!”

“He’s a dude. Dudes do that,” Hensley said, waving a hand. Charlotte didn’t like that explanation and it was often Hensley’s excuse for a number of sexist and problematic things that happened on her watch. Maybe it was for the best that Jasper didn’t pass the test. Then she’d have a problematic Hensley, and ANOTHER problematic guy at work. Ray was alright. He was nice, enough, but he said stuff sometimes that made her uncomfortable and he didn’t really listen whenever she pointed these things out. (Something that she had no idea would get worse over time, but that’s another subject.

Currently, the subject is Jasper. 

It took a while before Jasper came on board with the team. It took a while before he was ready for this secret. From the time that Hensley and Charlotte “broke up” until then, there were a lot of adventures that Hensley and Char saw together that made them really close in a way that Charlotte and Jasper were not, and even that Jasper and Henry were not. And in a way, for Charlotte, it was a lot like the fabricated story that she had spun - their secret involvement and the connecting together that nobody knew about… Also, since then, she had really been thinking about how easy it was for her to think of that, and how… relatable it felt, how natural it was to even imagine herself, keeping that sort of secret because she couldn’t tell people that she maybe… well… she didn’t really think it was so much a maybe these days… liked girls. 

More specifically, she maybe (and this WAS still a maybe), liked Hensley. Her hopeless heroine who she helped on a daily basis, and loved being so close to, even when she complained and fussed at her about the things that she deserved to be fussed at about. She would probably NEVER let her live down almost getting killed by Jasper’s crazy ex girlfriend, and she was so tired of Hensley always coming to her to get her out of stuff that she warned her about prior to the decision - like when she tried to go to the dance with Chloe as Kid Danger and Bianca as herself… STUPID HENSLEY! Charlotte decided, right around Jasper Dunlop Day that she wasn’t doing this anymore. She was going to explore her options and see what felt right. 

She bought a project board, some cards, and a science journal and she set up, literally in her closet, a little experiment center. She decorated the board, and across the top, had lettered, “Am I Gay?” Her hypothesis?: “I might be gay.” Procedure: Well, she supposed, she had to talk to some people, go on some dates, maybe kiss somebody? She shuddered. The amount of germs in saliva was terrifying to her. In fact, whenever she kissed Jack, she had threatened, “If you slip me any tongue, I’ll slip my fist right into your ribcage!” Needless to say, he slipped her no tongue.

But, her “experimentation phase” generally was not very successful for a number of reasons. 

First and foremost… meeting people? She wasn’t a fan. She joined the Student Council as a means to help her with a bit of self diagnosed social anxiety, but cared a lot about issues, so that she genuinely stayed in it to do community stuff and be a helpful member of the club. She met cool people, too! It was one of her things away from Hensley and away from Jasper, and wasn’t primarily academic, so she held it close to her heart as something for herself and decided against using it, and the fine people she met in it as lab rats for her orientation exploration.

Then, there was the little problem of personal space and unnecessary touching. There were very few people that she allowed into her bubble. Her parents, Uncle Roscoe, Hensley, Jasper, Piper, and Ray, and even with Ray, she tensed up for the longest time whenever he entered her bubble without warning. Even with that select amount of people who could be in her bubble, the only people that could casually touch her were her parents and Hensley. Sometimes Piper, but Piper had the respect to not touch her for no good reason. Unlike Hensley, who she simply had to get used to the fact that the girl was simply GOING TO just stand close, throw her arm around her, hug her, pick her up, play with her hair, tug on her backpack, or whatever she felt like doing at the time, and saying, “You should get permission before touching people,” just became background noise for Hensley, after a while, so Charlotte simply stopped saying it and adjusted. 

Jasper still sometimes got elbowed. It just wasn’t the same thing when a dude just touched you casually, she had initially thought. Maybe that wasn’t it at all and she just didn’t mind girls touching her as much, because she liked them? But… in order to figure that out, she’d have to let people in her bubble and let people casually touch her and see how she felt about it. 

So often, when it looked like somebody was getting too close, she stepped away, creating the distance of comfort for her and also, very clearly letting them see where it was. To the point that everybody who knew her knew not to get too close and everybody in her extracurriculars always did stuff like, “Hey Charlotte, I’m gonna take this lint off of you, okay?” (to which, she’d tell them to show her where it was and get it herself) or “Hi, Charlotte, do you mind if I sit here, or is that too close for you?”(To which she’d tell them to go ahead, but she’d move over more). She’d have to start telling people that being near her was okay, if she wanted to see her reactions to boys and girls and others in her proximity… And nowadays, they didn’t even ask anymore.

Even Mitch Bilsky would take one look at her and say, “UGH. The only space is by the queen of “don’t stand so close to me?” He’d then still do it, and even purposefully make her squirm, but she would resolve to ignore him and he’d get bored and move along.

But, she didn’t have very many times to test this out, and had to eventually rule out trying to get close to people (or let them get close to her) to see if she might feel a little flutter or not. 

Lastly, in addition to not being a people person and not wanting anybody in her personal space, The Man Cave was a whole ass full time job to maintain. She began to wonder what happened to people who previously worked for Ray/Captain Man? Even the ones that were there when she got there, and ones that would pop in and out for little assignments… after a while, she just didn’t see them, and she either was assigned their jobs, or took it upon herself to do them for worry of things going terribly wrong if she didn’t. Things went wrong in general, and she often felt like if she didn’t step in whenever she did, they could be downright disastrous. This job basically became her life. She never signed up for another marathon after dropping out whenever she thought the Super Volcano would kill them. She still had StuCo, but that was school related and when push came to shove, she only forsook the Man Cave for educational purposes, unless it was an extreme emergency.

In fact, she completely gave up on testing it all out and just let it bother her beneath the surface. Her conclusion: I’m more confused than ever, but technically… going to consider myself in the closet.

Imagine if I was as comfortable with myself as Jasper is…

You couldn’t tell that boy nothing. He protested stupid Swellview laws, jumped into hero mode to get his own hero day, wore belly shirts to everyone’s chagrin, was willing to go to tremendous lengths - sometimes extremely embarrassing ones - to get girls, and he overshared weird facts about his body with great excitement that just let you know that he adored these things about himself… 

She couldn’t even with certainty say that she MIGHT like girls, which, she was sure that she absolutely did, but she could hardly admit it to herself, much less out loud. What if it hurt her? What if it affected how she was seen by people on college boards or in the job field, once she left Swellview. Sure… there were YEARS before this happened, but Charlotte had been thinking ahead since she was small, and the moment she felt an inkling that her feelings may be… counterculture, she began to research related laws and statistics. 

Swellview didn’t have a big Black population. In fact, the demographics indicated that there were a lot more lgbt citizens than there were people who weren’t white, period. So, in Swellview, perhaps it wouldn’t be anything to be open about her sexuality… but… what if it was different for her, like a lot of things were. It was often different for her as a girl to be accepted in some spaces, to be listened to, to be respected. And it was frequently double different for her as a Black girl. Even the “good” people made her feel things that she often didn’t want to complain about, because they ALREADY thought she was an angry girl, when she couldn’t think of very many instances in which her anger was not justified. Research told her that was a common issue for Black girls and women. She didn’t have enough around her to touch base with, and was frustrated that she had to consider all of these intersections to even consider whether she would be free enough to have a sexual identity. 

Even with her academic record, immaculate articulation, and non-threatening appearance, Charlotte didn’t have many friends and didn’t have the best reputation. She was a nerd, but also, unfriendly. A Black girl in a male dominant world, in a white dominant city, and to possibly also be gay… she just… she couldn’t just toss that out there and have it attached to her name without knowing, and she felt like a coward for feeling like that. 

What would be the big deal, Charlotte? If that’s who you are… what would be so wrong about that? People be gay all over Swellview… but then again… everyday, she would see people be able to freely do things that she previously thought she WOULD never do, but as she got older realized that she wouldn’t do certain things, because she COULD never do them… not without possibly losing something. Chances? Respect? Heck, in certain areas of the world, her life. But, thinking this hard about it and not coming up with anything to push her to believe that she was indeed a straight girl, despite all of the reasons that it would be SO easy, and she loved easy things, despite her knack for tackling hard things. Why wouldn’t she just accept that she was straight, if that would make all of this anguish and confusion go away? She could just tell herself that she was straight and get it over with and move on… IF she was indeed straight. And if she wasn’t, no matter how much “experimentation” and hypothesizing she did, nothing would make her feel those feelings that she sometimes felt around Hensley, for some boy. 

So… She just sat with it. In her closet. She didn’t experiment and she didn’t hypothesize. But, in her science journal that she had previously been writing all of these things in, she scratched out her conclusion and wrote. 

Conclusion: I’m gay. 

But, she tore the page out and wadded it up. Then, she felt bad, straightened it back out, and slid it back into it's space. She tucked her cards into it and stuffed it into a lock box where she kept keepsakes and stuff, locked it in and got rid of her project board in the Junk n Stuff dumpster. 

She had been handling Kid Danger’s secret for a couple of years now and planned to hold on to it forever. She had time to figure out what to do with her own.

Besides… by the time Jasper got in on the secret… Things changed a lot, anyway.

[bionicdragonguardian1]

Ranma 2/4

Yup... I’m doing it... yes this how I plan, shut up

Part One: Chapters 1-12

Genderfluid Ranma Saotome

Bisexual Akane Tendo

BAMF!Akane if it kills me

More modern America take on LGBTQIA+ themes

Bisexual Ryoga Hibiki

Fuck the Kunos

Full Series AU because I am a fool who doesn’t know restraint

Magic Rules are a thing

I am actually going to keep a consistent timeline if it kills me

I have a PLAN

Very Minor changes to the actual plot cuz economics

Bad Parenting is addressed

Harassment is Addressed

I will make them acknowledge Physics/Medical because I’m an asshole

Pulling from both the Anime and the Manga

Still working through the Manga as I plot

Friendly reminder that Genma is crap

Friendly reminder that Nodoka is crazy

Poor Mousse

Soun Tendo TRIES really hard but grief fucking sucks

Nabiki is morally grey

Toxic Shampoo

Kasumi gets Character Development or so help me

polyship cuz surprises

I promise I do love this anime

I’m just stunned that so many people didn’t get a lot of character development

Actual fucking ENDING

I do actually hate Shampoo tho

I watch dubs

Ranma slowly starts using they/them pronouns vs switching

Ranma wears a bra, fuck you

Yes I’m using 2020 LGBT stuff BUT I will keep the tech as close to the 90s as I can (tho fair warning I was BORN in the 90s)

Toxic Masculinity addressed (yes I mean Ranma’s)

Ranma is awkward as hell

bc that’s what happens when you isolate a child, Genma!

Also, they spent closer to 1-2 months in China bc of how many things happen while they’re there

Homophobic/Transphobic Language

Ranma uses Ranko WAY more often cuz it makes sense

Tatewaki is actually not as stupid as he is in canon, but he’s worse

Kodachi… on the other hand... IS stupid

Canon Heights are used (hence the “actual magic” tag, it’s how Kuno explains it and is still wrong)

Ranma is a shitty liar, and trusts his friends (kinda)

I’ve never like Shampoo, I don't hide that

While reading the manga I’ve realized how often Ranma wears a hat in the early chapters

I love it

Laws Exist

Rule Enforcement

Adults aren’t useless

Demiromantic Ranma

Ace/Demisexual Ranma (I haven’t decided yet)

Demiromantic Akane

Pansexual Ryoga

YES Akane is Bisexual AND Demiromantic. It’s a thing!

Genma is a sonnova bitch and piece o shit

Diasuke x Hiroshi

Sayuri x Yuka

Polyamory discussions

Hiroshi x Yuka

Protective Ranma

Protective Akane

Protective Ryoga

Tendos adopt Ryoga bc they care

Cologne sucks, I didn’t realize that was justified until now

Minor Anime over Manga Arc Choices

People aren’t oblivious those around Ranma a lot pick up on the transformation thing (eventually)

Ryoga’s crush on Akane turns into something normal, I may be ~Aro but even I know that’s bad

The “Akane Can’t Cook” Joke was funny once or twice; NOT the whole series Akane learns to cook

WAY fucking sooner than she did in the Anime

Look, I get the stereotype but it’s NOT funny!

Manga Chapt6Pt3 cover gave me too many ideas for what I want to do to Ryoga & IDK how I feel (Tiny pigtailed girl Ryoga is just too cute that I want to drop him the niángnìquán)

I will use Wiki-Mandarin-Spellings for Jusenkyo Springs cuz I don’t understand a lick of Chinese

Certain Arcs will be skipped entirely because I HATED THEM (any time they showed up)!

YEET Tea Ceremony Arc(s), mainly cuz an outsider I didn’t get it like I’m sure I was supposed to

If I could just kill Happosai I would, but I can’t

Expect him to be VERY dead/gone post-Canon

Fair warning tho cuz I hate him more than I hate Shampoo or Cologne

Shampoo still sucks

I wish the scene w Hiro/Dai was in the Anime cuz it’s hilarious

Ranma’s hat is back! I love it!

Is… is Ranma ADHD or is that me projecting again?

God, these two are hopeless dorks

Was someone going to TELL me that Ranma’s classmates figured out the transformation BEFORE the Romeo thing or was I just supposed to sit there stunned when it happened?!?

Goddammit, I hate Romeo and Julliet

I don’t mean the ep, I mean the play/movie/etc cuz my school years have done it 1.6 million times that I just can’t stand it anymore

Gosunkugi… wtf is wrong with you?

STILL hate this play

I’m American, ok

this has been shoved down my throat since I was 8 so It never occured to me that Ranma not knowing Romeo & Julliet at all wouldn’t be weird

Ranma learns his lines (kinda)

Kuno is 600% the reason they go off script

...And Gosunkugi being creepy af

TBH where they go off script (like Akane’s sleep scene) I’ll probs redo purely cuz I know this play

Still hate this play

Lol, tape ain’t a thing, that’s hilarious

Ranma kissing Kuno, yes

Akane kissing Ranma, NO

It’s called FAKING it

You either get over it or learn to fake it

Is it wrong that it’s tempting to get rid of P-chan in chapt8?

Don’t answer that… I know it is

Akane you need to learn to trust Ranma

Like seriously… that’s the 1 thing that drove me batty

100% going for the Anime version of the Japanese Speong of Drowned Man cuz it’s funnier

(I’m still tempted to change Ryoga)

Since the Cookie thing came before any comment about Akane’s cooking (Anime) I just figured Ranma was like me and can’t eat a ton of processed sugar (yes, make you that sick) so... HEADCANON!!

But Ranma’s still awkward af talking about it

Yup, subbing out Sasuke for Gosunkugi

Ranma not realizing his dad was committing crimes NEEDS to be handled better

I see angst potential

Ukyo is def still cis-fem, that point at least works

Ukyo’s dad is NOT in the clear here

Friendly reminder that Genma TOLD Mr. Kuonji that Ranma had a fiancée

Jealous Ranma’s fun

Ranma… just cuz you’ve 6.5k fiancé doesn’t mean everyone does

I’m just saying, Ryoga only falls for Ranma

Is Ranma wearing a binder while cursed bad? I honestly don’t know…

Poor Ranma, I’d DIE!

Obvs changing the rules of the pill from “first person of the opp sex”

I’m thinking “first person you’d be attracted to” cuz it’s nice and inclusive and won’t make someone fall for someone they wouldn’t normally

I’m just tryin’ to avoid some gayboy from fallin’ for a girl or some straight girl fallin’ for a girl

I mean Ranma’s still gonna Insta Cologne

Rule gets stricter the longer the pill lasts

also incest needs to be excluded

Look, I am NOT condoning Mousse’s obsession

but Shampoo still sucks

Is me making Tsubasa mtf bad?

Someone tell me cuz I’m not sure

I think I accidentally made Ukyo transphobic… oops

Redemption? Hopefully, idk yet

Do you realize how much anti LGBT shit I have to work through?!?

Tsubasa’s issue is 600% that she’s a lesbian so Ranma being a guy (even sometimes) weirds her out which for the record is FINE since they haven’t been dating at all & Ranma didn’t tell her!

The ½ white ½ brown dog IS actually Ryoga’s?!?

I didn’t know I needed this!

Also she’s staying!

Is Sasuke an Anime character?!?! Idk how I feel about this…

Ranma is a little shit & I love it

My idea may’ve been wrong (and Ranma!) but I love the idea had that I’m tempted do it anyway

Alright, Ranma is def going too far… even I can admit that

I’m quite sad this arc wasn’t animated

I don’t know which one I want! Kuno sick vs sneezing cat?

I can’t pick!

They’re both perfect!

Yup, Shampoo is evil

Akane… tone down the weapons kay?

[patricianandclerk]

H.R. (Part 1)

The year was 1990.

The angel Aziraphale[1] was drunk. It was not that he was often drunk. He was not. However, the occasions wherein he approached a bottle of anything nice – or, as was the case tonight, anything dreadful – were those when he spent his time in the company of the demon, Crowley[2]. Being drunk was a rather occasional affair, one that the two of them embarked on together, on either ill tidings or extremely healthy ones…

Aziraphale was nowhere near Crowley, now.

(Crowley, as it happened, was in his London flat many streets away, squinting over a spot-the-difference puzzle in a puzzle magazine he’d stolen from a copper on his tea break that morning[3], and occasionally laughing at the Golden Girls as it played on his television.)

Aziraphale was alone, standing in the little entrance hall outside of one of his favourite clubs, the Hyacinth and Vine. On the other side of the heavy doors, he could distantly hear some song playing from a cassette tape, some Queen song he had heard countless times from the Blaupunkt in Crowley’s car.

He brought his glass, mercifully cool, to his head, and held it against the red, burning skin, closing his eyes shut. He felt very red all over, and very drunk, and very miserable.

This was the sixth wake he’d been to in two months.

There were so many of them. How many more would there be?

It merely felt so… senseless, and senseless it was, and senseless it would continue to be, and he felt so utterly hopeless in the face of it all. Seeing all these poor young things perish so dreadfully, and if that wasn’t bad enough—

The young man’s girlfriend, she’d spoken so eloquently, even with her voice thick and hoarse from crying. “People like us, we have to fight for the love we get, and Pat fought for every minute of his, every minute we could spend together. You can’t let these things pass you by, he used to say. No point being scared. You just have to love as much as you can, when you can, and he did, and for that I’m— I’m so glad.”

“Mr Fell?” asked Robert, the club’s proprietor, pushing the door open, and Aziraphale turned to look at him. He was aware that his eyes were wet, and Robert exhaled to look at him, reaching out and gently brushing his shoulder. “You alright?”

“No, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, aware of how clumsy his tongue was in his mouth with the drink. “Not really. I don’t suppose you’d be so good as to call me a cab?”

“Yes, Mr Fell,” Robert said softly, nodding his head, and dipped back inside.

Aziraphale drained his glass. It was a good deal fuller than it really ought have been, certainly fuller than it was when he took a moment outside the doors.

Perhaps that was why, when he fell into the back of the black cab, he gave completely the wrong address.

--

Crowley glanced up when the extremely annoying and high-tech theme of his doorbell[4] interrupted him, and he snapped his fingers, pausing the Blanche mid-speech. The fact that pausing live television wasn’t yet an option to wider society did not occur to him: if he could pause a video cassette with a snap of his fingers, it followed on that he could pause anything else, and so he did.

It was a funny time to be calling – nearly eleven at night.

Hastur didn’t know how to use a doorbell, and Ligur wasn’t even in the habit of knocking, so he knew it wasn’t one of them; Dagon was uncomfortable with any location that wasn’t at least a little damp, and had never stepped foot in Crowley’s flat block; Beelzebub never visited.

He hadn’t ordered anything, but then, maybe someone had given a delivery boy the wrong address?

Hm.

Sliding from the sofa, he moved toward the door, drawing it open in one smooth movement. In one far less smooth movement, Aziraphale fell into his arms, and began sobbing against his breast.

“Ah,” Crowley said, and kicked the door closed.

--

Let us survey the scene.

Aziraphale was sitting at one end of Crowley’s extremely sleek, extremely expensive, extremely leather, sofa. It was black and white, and looked as if it belonged in a very modern museum, but it was actually surprisingly comfortable. From the back of one of his hidden storage spaces[5], Crowley had drawn out an extremely thick and fleecy black blankets, which he had wrapped around Aziraphale’s shoulders, and was slowly turning tartan. There was a mug of steaming cocoa in Aziraphale’s hands, which had been dreadful, made as it was from Crowley’s extremely rich, dark, real cocoa; in Aziraphale’s hands, it had become more sugar than anything else, and was rather nice.

Crowley was sitting on the other end of the sofa, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was barefoot, in silken red pyjamas that rather plunged at the neckline until it became more of a navel border, for whatever ocean battles you liked, and Aziraphale, drunk and rather out of himself, was having to be very careful not to allow himself to spend too much time looking at the thatch of chest hair Crowley had decorated his body with.

Aziraphale sniffled.

Crowley watched him warily.

“Er,” he said, stuntedly, “you’ve never actually been to my flat before.”

“I knew the address,” Aziraphale mumbled, and looked about Crowley’s living room, which was made of rather foreboding grey marble on every side, and had a rail of red and gold curtains against the broad windows, which showed a marvellous view of the London skyline on the other side of the Thames.

“And you were crying,” Crowley said.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I know.”

“Er,” Crowley said, rather lacking the script for this situation. “Why?”

“You needn’t sit so far away, you know,” Aziraphale said, staring down at his own hands where they gripped the cocoa mug. “I’ve not anything contagious.”

Crowley stared at the angel, feeling the old thread of distant bitterness, mixed up with aching want, make itself known. “Do you want me to get closer?” he asked, his voice sounding less superior and cold, and more brittle and fragile. You go too fast for me, Crowley. The words echoed in his mouth, all but tangible in the air, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to hear the constant repetition of them like Crowley did.

He didn’t look up from his cocoa as he said, in a miserable way that evoked a pang from Crowley’s heart, “Yes, please.”

Crowley inched closer. His sofa had never seemed quite so long when he bought it, but now it seemed longer than ever, and his movements up the seat of it felt infinitesimal, barely bringing him closer to the angel… Until he was close, until he was close enough almost to touch, and Aziraphale turned his head to look at him. He sipped at his cocoa.

“It was Pat Mullarkey’s wake,” Aziraphale mumbled.

Understanding dawned, and Crowley bit the inside of his lip. “Another one?” he asked. It was only February. How many did that make, this year…?

“He was thirty-nine,” Aziraphale said, and he exhaled hard, feeling the threat to cry make itself known again. “Oh, Crowley, I barely even knew the boy. Just that— You know, I’m in the Hyacinth and Vine once or twice a week, and he came into the shop once or twice… I recommended he read Maurice, you know, and he came back in with a cake he’d baked for me. Isn’t that so lovely? He was so— He was so happy with the book that he…”

Aziraphale trailed off.

Crowley knew what Aziraphale was like, in Soho. He knew he went into various little clubs, that he’d saved a few of them from getting raided, when that was a concern, that he had his favourites… That he kept a big section of Gay and Lesbian books in his shop, always, always, had done since long before that had been what the section was called.

“He said it was so important, you know,” Aziraphale murmured. “To think that people like us could have happy endings.”

“He have people that loved him?” Crowley asked. He watched the tightness in Aziraphale’s face, the way his fingers gripped the mug, and swallowed.

“His family—” Aziraphale started.

“Don’t care about them,” Crowley said. “He have people that loved him? Full wake? Lots of people talking about how much they loved him, and how much he loved them?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said haltingly.

“S’all that matters, angel,” Crowley murmured, softly, comfortingly. It… it made sense, he supposed, that Aziraphale would like those humans. It made sense, when they felt like outsiders, when they had secrets from their families, when… It wasn’t the same. But Crowley understood why one would be comforted, and he ached to comfort Aziraphale himself, to reach out, to touch him…

“I’m very drunk, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and he put his cocoa mug down rather more heavily than he meant to on the coffee table, watching it slosh slightly – although it didn’t dare slosh enough to drip onto the table.

“That’s alright,” Crowley said. “You’ll sober up eventually.”

Aziraphale inhaled.

How much longer? Every moment he spent with Crowley, every minute, he felt the space between them like a canyon, like it was some impassable distance between them, and yet Crowley was so close, within his hand’s reach, so easily… Aziraphale looked down at Crowley’s foot, scarcely a few inches from Aziraphale’s blanket-clad thigh, at the shine of black scales on its sole, tantalisingly within reach; at Crowley’s ankle, thin and shapely, ever the envy of every man he passed when shapely ankles were of a man’s concern; a smidgen of his pale calf, visible beneath the silk shift of his pyjamas.

“I’m so frightened, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. “I don’t— I don’t want to Fall.”

“You won’t Fall,” Crowley said, alarmed. “Angel, no, you won’t—”

Aziraphale touched Crowley’s ankle, wrapping his hand loosely around it, and he felt the cool, pale skin beneath his palm. It was so much more intimate, he realised, his cheeks hot with a burning flush, that merely brushing shoulders or touching hands in the course of a conversation, merely by virtue of the touch being deliberate, of the fact that he was reaching out, to touch him, to touch him—

“Angel.”

“Please. Come— Come closer. I shan’t bite.”

“I might.”

“Oh, don’t,” Aziraphale said, detesting the whine in his voice, “please, Crowley, please—”

“I won’t,” Crowley said. “Not when you’re going to shove me off in a second. I won’t, angel, I won’t come close just so you can push me back again, and you’re drunk—”

“I won’t,” Aziraphale promised, aware of the way he was begging, of the desperate ache that thickened in his own voice, “please, Crowley, I cannot bear the dearth between us, I have felt the pain of it for so long, and I cannot thrust you back from me anymore, please—” Aziraphale had thrown open the blanket, asking with his body as much as his slurred words, fear thudding in his veins, but Crowley crawled closer in tiny little increments, as if he feared he might burst into flames.

He didn’t.

He came until his knees were laid in Aziraphale’s lap, awkwardly crouched upon his scaly feet against Aziraphale’s side, and Aziraphale threw the great blanket about him, his arm wrapping tightly around Crowley’s waist and pulling him closer.

“Oh,” he whispered against Crowley’s breast, which wasn’t cool, as his ankles were, but was warm. He could smell Crowley’s cologne, could smell the floral shampoo he used in his hair, and he felt the silk of Crowley’s pyjamas under his fingers, and then, oh, oh, Crowley’s arm wrapped about his head, his fingers curling in Aziraphale’s hair… “Oh, Crowley…”

“Angel,” Crowley whispered against his forehead, and Aziraphale felt him bury his nose in Aziraphale’s hair, pressing against it, felt Crowley clutching at him as if he might well drown without him. Aziraphale, drunk, felt as if the world was swaying about them, so maybe Crowley was right, maybe they would drown if they weren’t holding one another, just like this—

Crowley leaned down, and he pressed their faces together, and Aziraphale gasped, expecting a kiss, but it didn’t come: Crowley clutched at his cheeks, cupping them in his surprisingly soft hands, and his nose rubbed against Aziraphale’s, their noses tip to tip.

“Sober up,” Crowley whispered.

The fear lurched within him like a wave. “Can’t,” he mumbled. “Can’t, Crowley, can’t—”

“Sober up,” Crowley growled, and the wine evaporated out of Aziraphale’s veins with an uncomfortable wrench to his dulled emotion. Aziraphale shuddered, his fingers gripping all the tighter at Crowley’s back and at the side of his thigh (when had his hand got there?), and he exhaled, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

He felt…

He felt everything now.

He felt the weight of Crowley’s body, half in his lap and half leaned against his chest; he felt the shimmer of Crowley’s pyjamas and remembered when he’d actually bought them, in a shop in Manchester a few years ago, and had threatened to get a matching pair for Aziraphale as he’d giggled and said red silk wasn’t his style; he was aware of Crowley’s breath against his mouth, slightly sweet-smelling and of soft exhalations.

“See?” Crowley asked, his fingers touching through Aziraphale’s hair, and oh, it felt so lovely, so delicate, so intimate, like when the hairdresser washed his hair but so much sweeter, so much more full of love, why had nobody ever touched him like this before…? “You’re not Falling, sweetheart,” sweetheart! Sweetheart! Oh, his heart would burst, “I got you, I have you.”

“I won’t push you away,” Aziraphale whispered. “I want— Oh, I just want this, Crowley.”

“I want everything,” Crowley replied, feeling like he’d shatter. Aziraphale’s body was everything he’d ever imagined, and he’d imagined it a lot: plush and warm and soft and just yielding enough that Crowley could wrap right around him if he wanted to… “But this is enough.”

“You could,” Aziraphale said, and his tongue quivered in its bed, his eyes remaining tightly closed: the terror gripped him like some tight, iron manacles, but he ached, oh, he ached and he yearned and he wanted, and they were touching, now, they were touching, and he had wanted so long for this love, for Crowley’s love, to accept it, to give it in turn, to have… “You could kiss me. If you wanted. I—”

Crowley’s mouth was on his, and Aziraphale could hear the noise he was making, a desperate little keen of noise in his throat, like he could scarcely believe what was happening. Aziraphale gasped against his lips, and he squeezed Crowley tighter, letting Crowley’s lips move against his own, and oh, oh, he could move his own, just— Just so—

Six thousand years.

Six thousand years…

“Aziraphale?” came a voice from behind Crowley, and Aziraphale felt as if he had been plunged into horror itself when he beheld, in the midst of Crowley’s minimalist décor, the archangels Michael and Uriel, standing stock-still and staring at the scene before them.

"I can explain," Aziraphale choked out, and when Crowley moved to scramble from his lap, his hands acted purely on instinct, and clutched the demon all the tighter.

[1] Aziraphale, a.k.a. Mr A.Z. Fell, Principality of the Eastern Gate, bookseller, and often-patron of certain gentlemen’s clubs in the London vicinity.

[2] Crowley, a.k.a. Mr A.J. Crowley, Tempter of Eve in Eden, businessman of vague description, flash bastard extraordinaire.

[3] And the bastard had looked very bored for his fifteen minutes, too, especially since Crowley had ensured his tea order had been wrong and that his scone had been stale. And his radio had conked out, too.

[4] It played a different James Bond theme for every day of the week, and was the absolute horror of his neighbours, as the sound carried for two storeys in each direction, and echoed loudly in the corridor of his flat block.

[5] Crowley liked to appear rich and exclusive, and the best way to appear rich was by seeming not to own anything at all.

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[the-quiet-winds]

Up With You All Night

[angst-ish.]

“This is really where we’re at now?”

“Alcohol is the only constant in my life.”

“You know this isn’t healthy,” Anne warns.

“So?” A half-slurred, half-painful giggle comes forth. “Drinking takes the hurt away.”

“Jane,” Anne chides softly, “that’s your third bottle of brandy this week. This isn’t a game anymore.”

With another mirthless laugh, Jane takes a long swig from the glass. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to get you help,” Anne states, “and we’ll all pull an intervention.”

That seems to catch Jane’s attention. She shakily sets the glass down and braces herself on the countertop. “Please,” she says, voice tiny and broken, “don’t tell the others.”

“What would you like me to do, then?” Anne asks, and her voice is softer now.

Jane turns to her, very, very slowly. Her eyes are red, skin flush, and there’s a quiver in her lips like they may simply shatter at any time.

She looks at Anne, hopelessness and a foreign sort of weakness in her normally confident and fiercely protective eyes. Then, in an unexpected move, she extends her arms, trembling as they are, to Anne in a silent plea.

After the brief moment of confusion passes, Anne steps forward and pulls Jane into a hug. It’s not especially tight or especially confident, but Anne comforting Jane of all people… she’s never been in this situation.

Jane sinks into the embrace. She hides her face in the fabric of Anne’s shirt on her shoulder, biting desperately at her lip to keep from crying. The brandy in her system fogs her mind and loosens her resolve enough to leave her silently weeping in Anne’s arms.

“I miss them,” she chokes out. 

It doesn’t even take Anne a full second to know she’s talking about Edward and Mary, maybe even Elizabeth.

Before Anne can even try to soothe Jane at all, the latter wrenches out of her arms. Anne can’t stop her from grabbing the glass of brandy and swallowing it down in one large swig. She slams it back down to the counter with enough force that the glass chips on the bottom.

“My poor boy,” Jane spits harshly, not facing Anne, “my poor child.”

Anne has to admit, she doesn’t quite know where Jane is going.

“Never to know his own mother.”

Jane’s words are familiar in an odd sort of way. She’s certainly never said them before, but that tone is far too cold and reminds Boleyn of drafty castles and secret affairs.

“Growing up with a king who only wanted him to keep his own name alive.” There’s a darkness in her voice, and it captures Anne enough that she can barely react to pull the brandy bottle away from Jane’s hands as she goes to pour more.

“Dying young,” Jane concludes bitterly. “Barely not a boy but far from a man, then just a body in the ground.”

“Someone’s been working on poetry with Cathy,” Boleyn quips, trying to lighten the mood. Jane all but sneers at her.

She opens her mouth to speak again, when Jane turns to face her fully, a tiredness in her eyes. “If you even think about saying a word about how you had it worse because you lost your head-”

“I wasn’t.”

Jane is caught off guard by the soft resoluteness in Anne’s voice.

“I-”

“I was going to say you should have told us sooner,” Anne continues, “because you shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“But you-”

“Yeah,” Anne concedes, “I know.”

It doesn’t take more than that. Anne isn’t mad. She knows Jane. She knows that it’s the alcohol scraping her emotions out of her stomach and forcing them out. This is guilt held for nearly 500 years. She deserves to let it out.

Anne offers a hand. “Come on,” she says softly.

Jane is utterly confused as to why Anne is being so kind to her, under this aggressive fog of the influence, but allows herself to be led up to her bedroom.

Anne all but forces her to lay down under the covers before dipping out of the room. Just as Jane is about to follow to investigate, Anne returns with a water bottle and a tissue with some painkillers on it.

“For the morning,” she says vaguely, setting it on Jane’s nightside table before inviting herself to lie beside the blonde queen.

The world is slowly coming back into focus, and Jane’s harsh and bitter words return to her to nibble at her conscious. “Anne, I’m sorry-”

Anne hushes her softly. “It’s okay,” she promises softly. “No harm done.” She gives a low, unamused chuckle. “Heard worse.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed and said what I said, regardless,” Jane contests.

“You’re a little under the influence,” Anne says, “I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way to cope.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

The question is so obvious, the answer even more so. Anne smiles softly. “You lean on us.”

“But all of you have your own baggage and I don’t want to seem-”

Anne cuts into Jane’s quiet ramble. “You have baggage too. And you should be allowed to address that, no matter what we say on the stage.” She shifts closer. “I know I’m a jerk to you onstage, making everything about me and all that. But you’re strong, Jane Seymour,” she says, a soft earnestness that shoots right to Jane’s heart, “stronger than any of us give you credit for. You went more than we’ve ever thought about, and you deserve to be able to deal with it. But this,” she gestures to Jane’s light intoxication, “isn’t the way to do it.”

Jane looks ashamed, a dark blush streaking down her cheeks and neck. “I know,” she says, “but it’s easy.”

“Tomorrow,” Anne says softly, “we’ll hash this out as a family, alright?” At Jane’s slightly confused expression, she goes on. “We’re going to help you.” She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Jane’s cheek. “Whatever you want to say you’ll be able to. But there’s one condition.” Jane creases her eyebrows, but nods. “No alcohol.”

The scarlet blush deepens, if that’s possible. “Okay,” Jane whispers. “Tomorrow.”

“For now,” Anne says, moving closer to Jane. “You need to sleep.”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “And I have a feeling that you are going to stay?”

Anne’s smile is radiant, even in the dark. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Seymour.”

And the next day, Jane Seymour lays out her soul for the five women of her family to judge. They don’t. They support and care and put the pieces together until nothing is wrong anymore.

Well, that last part isn’t quite possible.

And just like that, it’s like nothing was ever different, yet it wasn’t the same either. 

[requested by anonymous]

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears@theartoflazy @justqueentwo  @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17@jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago@mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance@boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

[writethehousedown]

Bottled Up Feelings, Chapter Five: I’ll Be Alright (Cheryl/Blu) -  Zyan (5/7)

a/n: we’re getting to the end of the week and I Don’t Want To. Today’s chapter title is for the Ariana Grande song, Be Alright. It was on Cheryl’s BBC spotify playlist, and it inspired me while I was writing. Enjoy!

Chapter Five: I’ll Be Alright

DDC: I have something to tell you. Meet me for lunch at the Italian place near your studio?

Cheryl blinked repeatedly, typing out an answer with one hand, as she held her coffee mug with the other.

“G’morning,” Blu said, dragging herself into the kitchen, still half-asleep. Cheryl mumbled a ‘Good morning’ without looking up. “Remember that today we have a meeting with the seamstress in charge of the costumes for the Valentine’s Day show at four.”

Something inside Cheryl felt different when she heard Blu say we, and she couldn’t bring herself to correct her, besides, it didn’t really bother her. If anything, she liked it — more than she should have.

A brief thought crossed her mind that startled her; she was starting to like Blu, and not as a friend.

She couldn’t allow herself to feel that, due to the fact that one day Blu would be gone - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow - but one day she’d leave for forever and, if Cheryl was to allow herself to have feelings for her, she’d end up heartbroken and everything would remind her of Blu — the domestic bliss they’d lived in being something Cheryl wished to have once she met someone special.

(She’d once thought it could be Vivienne, but lately she wasn’t thinking that much about her, the “playing Cupid” plan completely forgotten after that night they ran into her.)

But she still smiled and gave a small nod.

“Divina invited me to have lunch today. Do you mind staying at the studio?” She requested, and Blu’s brows were immediately knit in a frown.

“Chez, you know the rules say—”

“Please, just for this time. It’s near the studio and I’ll be back before you notice!” Cheryl pleaded, putting on the best puppy eyes she could muster, followed by a pout. Blu was chewing on her lower lip, her expression full of doubt.

In the end, she gave a defeated sigh.

“Fine. Jesus, Chez, I swear I can’t say no when you look at me like that.” Blu folded her arms, dramatically looking away. Cheryl laughed softly, her heart making a jump when she noticed the rosy tone on Blu’s pale cheeks.

*

When Divina pulled Cheryl into a hug when greeting, Cheryl sensed something was wrong. Divina always hugged her tightly, with a small smile against her hair, instantly lifting up her mood. This time, Divina’s grip was lose, her hands were shaky, and she could notice the forced smile.

“How are you, love? How are things going at your new job?” Cheryl inquired, taking a seat and briefly studying the menu. Divina shrugged, fidgeting with her rings.

“It’s been good, my co-workers are nice, and my secretary is a gal fresh from college that stares at the intern across the hallway whenever I’m not looking,” she rambled with a giggle, making Cheryl laugh softly.

A waitress swung by to take their orders, leaving shortly after. There was a moment of silence as they sipped their drinks.

“You got anything new to tell me?” Divina inquired with a suspicious tone, like a mother inquiring their child about something they clearly knew they’d done.

“Not really, no; perhaps the only new thing is that we’ve already printed the tickets for the Valentine’s Day show and today we’re meeting the seamstress to check how she’s holding up,” she replied with a casual tone, but Divina furrowed her brow in confusion.

“We? Have you finally hired someone to assist you running that madhouse you call dance studio?”

Cheryl froze with the glass of  lingering at her lips. Shit.

She thought about lying to Divina for a moment, but she quickly discarded that idea; Divina could tell when someone was lying better than anyone.

She had no choice but to tell her the truth — well, half of it.

“I have. It’s Blu, the girl I brought to our last meeting; she needed a job and I needed help.” Cheryl shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. Divina’s expression softened, a small smile appearing.

“She looks like a nice girl, I really liked her,” she admitted, chewing on the inside of her cheek, going back to fidgeting with her rings. “And I noticed the way she looked at you.”

Cheryl opened her eyes widely with a mix of surprise and a warm feeling she couldn’t name in her chest. She leaned forward in her chair, locking eyes with Divina.

“What do you mean? How was the looking at me?” She asked, sounding more excited than she intended to.

Divina smiled softly. “Like one would look at a hopeless crush, maybe a High School one, that they never got to confess their feelings to,” she said in a sing-sang tone.

Cheryl blushed violently and dismissed Divina’s words with a wave of her hand.

“You were probably seeing things, ‘cause I’m dead sure Blu doesn’t feel anything for me,” Cheryl stated. Divina stifled a giggle and was about to say something when Cheryl remembered why they were there. “Didn’t you have something to tell me, anyway?”

Divina’s whole demeanour changed. She could tell that what she was about to say wasn’t good.

“Yeah, about that… Do you want the long story or straight to the point?”

Cheryl shrugged. “Straight to the point, I guess.”

Divina breathed in deeply before dropping the bomb.

“Vivienne’s dating her secretary, Barbara.”

It amazed Cheryl how she didn’t feel what she should normally feel in this type of situations, instead - a faint feeling of disappointment settled in her chest, contrary to the heart break she supposed she should be feeling.

Before she could say anything, the waitress was back with their orders, and Cheryl twirled the spaghetti in her fork for a long minute before speaking.

“How’d you know that?” She asked calmly, a calmness that Divina mistook as bottling up her feelings.

“My secretary Georgia looks like a quiet girl, but she knows businesses of everyone in the office. I didn’t even have to ask her what was going on between Vivienne and her secretary - she just told me when she noticed I’d been staring at her,” Divina went on, pinching her ravioli. Cheryl nodded slowly, prompting her to go on.

Divina locked eyes with her, perhaps expecting to see her eyes go red or her lip quiver. Cheryl’s face was expressionless.

“She said everyone in the office could tell it was kind of a mutual pinning thing. Apparently they went on a date last week; Barbara told Kat, the intern, and she told Georgia over lunch break, and Georgia told me,” she finished, reaching for Cheryl’s hands across the table and squeezing it. “I’m sorry, love, I know you never got an answer from her.”

Cheryl stroked Divina’s hand back, but she wasn’t there completely.

“She invited her to a date after she saw me with Blu,” she thought after realizing the time matched. She couldn’t believe it — and she saw her face every other day when she picked Lily up!

“She’s a bitch,” Cheryl declared, taking a mouthful of spaghetti. Divina cocked a brow, surprised.

“That’s all you have to say?” She inquired, taking a bite of the ravioli. Cheryl nodded with a shrug. “I thought you’d shed a tear or two, honestly. I’m proud of you, though,” she admitted with a smile.

Cheryl swallowed and thought about the warm feeling in her chest whenever she saw Blu.

She looked at Divina and smiled, reaching for her hand.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

*

“Blu, I’m back,” Cheryl exclaimed, entering the studio, but Blu wasn’t in the main hall. She frowned slightly, heading to the dancehall, hearing classical music coming from it.

She barely opened the door to peek inside, and she saw Blu doing the ballet choreography they taught the kids for the show. It didn’t matter that it was the simplest thing ever - Blu made the dance look absolutely delicate and ethereal, looking like she was floating on air.

Cheryl didn’t dare to step inside and abruptly ruin this moment, so she allowed herself to stare at Blu for as long as the choreography lasted.

Suddenly, with her heart hammering against her chest, Cheryl realized she might’ve fallen for Blu.

tags: cheryl hole, blu hydrangea, divina de campo, slow burn, lesbian au, genie au

DDC: I have something to tell you. Meet me for lunch at the Italian place near your studio?

Cheryl blinked repeatedly, typing out an answer with one hand, as she held her coffee mug with the other.

“G’morning,” Blu said, dragging herself into the kitchen, still half-asleep. Cheryl mumbled a 'Good morning’ without looking up. “Remember that today we have a meeting with the seamstress in charge of the costumes for the Valentine’s Day show at four.”

Something inside Cheryl felt different when she heard Blu say we, and she couldn’t bring herself to correct her, besides, it didn’t really bother her. If anything, she liked it — more than she should have.

A brief thought crossed her mind that startled her; she was starting to like Blu, and not as a friend.

She couldn’t allow herself to feel that, due to the fact that one day Blu would be gone - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow - but one day she’d leave for forever and, if Cheryl was to allow herself to have feelings for her, she’d end up heartbroken and everything would remind her of Blu — the domestic bliss they’d lived in being something Cheryl wished to have once she met someone special.

(She’d once thought it could be Vivienne, but lately she wasn’t thinking that much about her, the “playing Cupid” plan completely forgotten after that night they ran into her.)

But she still smiled and gave a small nod.

“Divina invited me to have lunch today. Do you mind staying at the studio?” She requested, and Blu’s brows were immediately knit in a frown.

“Chez, you know the rules say—”

“Please, just for this time. It’s near the studio and I’ll be back before you notice!” Cheryl pleaded, putting on the best puppy eyes she could muster, followed by a pout. Blu was chewing on her lower lip, her expression full of doubt.

In the end, she gave a defeated sigh.

“Fine. Jesus, Chez, I swear I can’t say no when you look at me like that.” Blu folded her arms, dramatically looking away. Cheryl laughed softly, her heart making a jump when she noticed the rosy tone on Blu’s pale cheeks.

*

When Divina pulled Cheryl into a hug when greeting, Cheryl sensed something was wrong. Divina always hugged her tightly, with a small smile against her hair, instantly lifting up her mood. This time, Divina’s grip was lose, her hands were shaky, and she could notice the forced smile.

“How are you, love? How are things going at your new job?” Cheryl inquired, taking a seat and briefly studying the menu. Divina shrugged, fidgeting with her rings.

“It’s been good, my co-workers are nice, and my secretary is a gal fresh from college that stares at the intern across the hallway whenever I’m not looking,” she rambled with a giggle, making Cheryl laugh softly.

A waitress swung by to take their orders, leaving shortly after. There was a moment of silence as they sipped their drinks.

“You got anything new to tell me?” Divina inquired with a suspicious tone, like a mother inquiring their child about something they clearly knew they’d done.

“Not really, no; perhaps the only new thing is that we’ve already printed the tickets for the Valentine’s Day show and today we’re meeting the seamstress to check how she’s holding up,” she replied with a casual tone, but Divina furrowed her brow in confusion.

“We? Have you finally hired someone to assist you running that madhouse you call dance studio?”

Cheryl froze with the glass of  lingering at her lips. Shit.

She thought about lying to Divina for a moment, but she quickly discarded that idea; Divina could tell when someone was lying better than anyone.

She had no choice but to tell her the truth — well, half of it.

“I have. It’s Blu, the girl I brought to our last meeting; she needed a job and I needed help.” Cheryl shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. Divina’s expression softened, a small smile appearing.

“She looks like a nice girl, I really liked her,” she admitted, chewing on the inside of her cheek, going back to fidgeting with her rings. “And I noticed the way she looked at you.”

Cheryl opened her eyes widely with a mix of surprise and a warm feeling she couldn’t name in her chest. She leaned forward in her chair, locking eyes with Divina.

“What do you mean? How was the looking at me?” She asked, sounding more excited than she intended to.

Divina smiled softly. “Like one would look at a hopeless crush, maybe a High School one, that they never got to confess their feelings to,” she said in a sing-sang tone.

Cheryl blushed violently and dismissed Divina’s words with a wave of her hand.

“You were probably seeing things, ‘cause I’m dead sure Blu doesn’t feel anything for me,” Cheryl stated. Divina stifled a giggle and was about to say something when Cheryl remembered why they were there. “Didn’t you have something to tell me, anyway?”

Divina’s whole demeanour changed. She could tell that what she was about to say wasn’t good.

“Yeah, about that… Do you want the long story or straight to the point?”

Cheryl shrugged. “Straight to the point, I guess.”

Divina breathed in deeply before dropping the bomb.

“Vivienne’s dating her secretary, Barbara.”

It amazed Cheryl how she didn’t feel what she should normally feel in this type of situations, instead - a faint feeling of disappointment settled in her chest, contrary to the heart break she supposed she should be feeling.

Before she could say anything, the waitress was back with their orders, and Cheryl twirled the spaghetti in her fork for a long minute before speaking.

“How’d you know that?” She asked calmly, a calmness that Divina mistook as bottling up her feelings.

“My secretary Georgia looks like a quiet girl, but she knows businesses of everyone in the office. I didn’t even have to ask her what was going on between Vivienne and her secretary - she just told me when she noticed I’d been staring at her,” Divina went on, pinching her ravioli. Cheryl nodded slowly, prompting her to go on.

Divina locked eyes with her, perhaps expecting to see her eyes go red or her lip quiver. Cheryl’s face was expressionless.

“She said everyone in the office could tell it was kind of a mutual pinning thing. Apparently they went on a date last week; Barbara told Kat, the intern, and she told Georgia over lunch break, and Georgia told me,” she finished, reaching for Cheryl’s hands across the table and squeezing it. “I’m sorry, love, I know you never got an answer from her.”

Cheryl stroked Divina’s hand back, but she wasn’t there completely.

“She invited her to a date after she saw me with Blu,” she thought after realizing the time matched. She couldn’t believe it — and she saw her face every other day when she picked Lily up!

“She’s a bitch,” Cheryl declared, taking a mouthful of spaghetti. Divina cocked a brow, surprised.

“That’s all you have to say?” She inquired, taking a bite of the ravioli. Cheryl nodded with a shrug. “I thought you’d shed a tear or two, honestly. I’m proud of you, though,” she admitted with a smile.

Cheryl swallowed and thought about the warm feeling in her chest whenever she saw Blu.

She looked at Divina and smiled, reaching for her hand.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

*

“Blu, I’m back,” Cheryl exclaimed, entering the studio, but Blu wasn’t in the main hall. She frowned slightly, heading to the dancehall, hearing classical music coming from it.

She barely opened the door to peek inside, and she saw Blu doing the ballet choreography they taught the kids for the show. It didn’t matter that it was the simplest thing ever - Blu made the dance look absolutely delicate and ethereal, looking like she was floating on air.

Cheryl didn’t dare to step inside and abruptly ruin this moment, so she allowed herself to stare at Blu for as long as the choreography lasted.

Suddenly, with her heart hammering against her chest, Cheryl realized she might’ve fallen for Blu.

[nerdygaymormon]

On twitter you mentioned you were making a song list for Pride. What's on your playlist?

Everyone has their own list of songs, but here’s my Pride playlist. This includes songs by LGBT performers, gay anthems, songs that are about LGBT topics & people, and songs that if you squint they speak to the queer experience. And many of these are great songs for dancing, which makes sense as even today most of the specifically-queer spaces are bars and dance clubs.

1939 - Over the Rainbow : Judy Garland - “the dreams that you dream of […] really do come true.”  When homosexual acts were illegal – the term “friend of Dorothy” was underground slang for a gay man.

1964 - Don’t Rain on my Parade - Barbra Streisand - We do like great big colorful parades, don’t we. Please don’t rain on those parades. The song is about how we got one life and so live it with gusto, do the things you most want to do. I’m holding my own parade and nobody is going to rain on it.

1966 - You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me : Dusty Springfield - The singer proclaims she’ll take whatever she can get from the object of her love. Generations of closeted women & men could identify with that. “You don’t have to say you love me, just be close at hand. You don’t have to stay forever, I will understand”

1969 - Make Your Own Kind of Music : Mama Cass - The message is about taking pride in your uniqueness and individualism

1975 - Dancing Queen : ABBA - This is a story of a 17-year-old girl on a nightclub dance floor, lost in the music and the moment. Of course, “queen” has a different meaning in the queer community and so this is often sung tongue-in-cheek. Over the years, queer acts like Erasure covered ABBA’s songs, and their songs were featured in several movies that appealed to gay audiences, making ABBA icons in the community.  

1977 - I Feel Love : Donna Summer - A song about loving your body and your desires, a powerful sentiment for people whose attractions were once seen as deviant. Try to listen to this song and not feel like dancing.

1977 - I Will Survive : Gloria Gaynor - You can imagine marginalized people asking the same questions in the song: “Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die?” The gay community has embraced lyrics that are a declaration of pride “I used to cry / But now I hold my head up high.” Even after decades of progress, many LGBTQ+ people still have to deal with daily assaults on their personhood & “I Will Survive” remains relevant.

1978 - Don’t Stop Me Now : Queen - Essentially the song is just a man intent on having a wild night out and inviting the rest of us to come along for the ride or else get out of his way. The love interests flip between male & female and back again, which makes sense since Freddie Mercury was bisexual.

1978 - Y.M.C.A. : Village People - Very fun song. The lyrics make me think of young gay teens being kicked out of their homes by their parents, many of whom migrated to big cities like New York. The YMCA’s provided shelter for them.  “Young man, there’s no need to feel down. I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground. I said, young man, ‘cause you’re in a new town. There’s no need to be unhappy.” And of course, the lyrics hint at all the gay activity, too. “You can stay there, and I’m sure you will find many ways to have a good time. It’s fun to stay at the YMCA. They have everything for you men to enjoy. You can hang out with all the boys.“ 

1978 - You Make Me Fee (Mighty Real) : Sylvester - The singer is black, gay and some form of gender queer and sings the song in falsetto. The words about feeling real, those mean something to people who had to come to terms with who they are.

1979 - Go West : Village People - This song imagines a utopia free of homophobia and discrimination. It’s a song of queer community & spirit, and we’ll do it “Together!”

1979 - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) : ABBA - is about a woman alone in an apartment watching television late at night as the wind howls outside. She says, “Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight.” A sentiment many a gay man could sing along with. 

1979 - We are Family : Sister Sledge - The song has a message of unity, and gay people often have to build a chosen family, and this song fits that.

1980 - I’m Coming Out : Diana Ross - Yes, this song is about that kind of “coming out.” The lyrics also are about being your truest self and throwing aside shame’s shackles.

1981 - Tainted Love : Soft Cell - The gay experience is not all about empowerment & acceptance. Sometimes it’s about a narcissist who breaks your heart. This song coming at the start of the AIDS crisis came to represent some of the angst that was part of gay life. “Once I ran to you, now I’ll run from you.”

1982 - Do You Really Want to Hurt Me : Culture Club - Boy George wrote the lyrics about his relationship with the drummer Jon Moss. They had an affair for about six years that was kept hidden from the public, and George often felt hurt and emotional. The concept of the video is about being gay and victimized for your sexuality. It shows Boy George getting kicked out of different places in various historical settings. In the courtroom, the jurors are in blackface to show the bigotry and hypocrisy of the many gay judges and politicians in the UK who’d enacted anti-gay legislation.

1982 - It’s Raining Men : The Weather Girls - Super campy song, ridiculous words, but it’s sung fearlessly with vocal pyrotechnics that take the song over the top in the best possible sense. Yes, what gay boy didn’t wish it was raining men?

1983 - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun : Cyndi Lauper - This song is about breaking the rules, letting go, being free and being visible. And yeah, lesbians wanna have fun.

1983 - Relax : Frankie goes to Hollywood - At a time when gay sexuality was still mostly communicated via clever allusions and nonsexual portrayals of gay people, “Relax” was a song about sex—and despite the video being banned by the BBC and MTV—was the biggest pop song in the world.

1984 - I Want to Break Free : Queen - He’s complaining about the person he’s with, wants to break free from the person’s lies. And when he is free, “life still goes on,” only now he can’t get used to living without this person. The video is a parody of U.K. soap opera Coronation Street, which has the entire band in drag, Freddie Mercury as a housewife. Seeing them in drag, of course, gives it a queer vibe. The video was banned in the U.S. 🙄

1985 - You Spin Me Round : Dead or Alive - The singer is queer and singing a love song, the New Wave music is hot, and this is an iconic classic of the 1980’s

1986 - True Colors : Cyndi Lauper - The song is about seeing who someone really is and loving them for it. And it doesn’t hurt that your “true colors are beautiful like a rainbow”

1987 - Faith : George Michael - The song, about declining hookups and patiently waiting for a more meaningful connection, portrays a balancing act with which gay culture has long wrestled.  “Well I need someone to hold me but I’ll wait for something more. Yes, I’ve gotta have faith” is just as meaningful today in a culture searching for love while swiping left.

1987 - It’s a Sin : Pet Shop Boys - This song is about a person’s lifelong shame and guilt, presumably for being gay. “For everything I long to do, no matter when or where or who, has one thing in common, too. It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin”

1987 - Always on my Mind : Pet Shop Boys - This is a remake of an Elvis song, but they dropped the references to a girl, making it ambiguous the gender they’re singing about. 

1988 - A Little Respect : Erasure - Singer Andy Bell was one of the first openly gay pop stars to actually sing about queer romance. In this song he’s calling to a lover not to leave and asks the question, “What religion or reason could drive a man to forsake his lover?“ 

1989 - Express Yourself : Madonna -  It’s basically about standing up for yourself in a relationship. Don’t go for “second-best” just because he treats you nicely in bed, but then is never there when you need him. So why is this in my Pride playlist? The music video!

1989 - Part of Your World : Jodi Benson - This song is from Disney’s The Little Mermaid, Ariel rejected traditional marriage partners and wants to marry a human against her father’s wishes. She dreams of being a part of the human world. For a long time the LGBT community has wanted to pursue romance & marriage with whom we want and belong to & be welcomed by society. 

1990 - Vogue : Madonna - “Look around: Everywhere you turn is heartache.” That’s not exactly a fluffy opening for a dance-pop song—and that’s the point. This is still the time of America’s AIDS crisis, and this song is inspired by New York’s gay ball scene. This song wants you to put away the heavy stuff for a little while and get on the dance floor.

1990 - Freedom! ‘90 : George Michael - This song is cleverly about 2 things. One is about his career–the breakup of Wham! and then the success of Faith, and how he’s tired of being pushed around by his label so he’s taking control of his career and telling people to disregard the pop imagery of his past. It’s also about him wanting to come out of the closet regarding his homosexuality, “There’s something deep inside of me, there’s someone else I’ve got to be.” It would be almost another ten years before he was publicly out.

1990 - Being Boring : Pet Shop Boys - “When you’re young you find inspiration in anyone who’s ever gone and opened up a closing door,” I believe this is talking about being in the closet and the hope that comes from people who’ve come out. The final verse, “Some are here and some are missing in the 1990’s,” AIDS wiped out much of a generation of gay people in the 1980’s. Now he’s grown up and out of the closet as “the creature I was always meant to be.”

1990 - Gonna Make You Sweat : C+C Music Factory - Fun dance song. In a 1997 episode of the The Simpsons, a steel mill turns into a flamboyant gay club when this song comes over the loudspeaker

1992 - Constant Craving : k.d. lang - She had been a country singer, but came out as gay and released this song. Every lesbian knew exactly what k.d. was craving. There weren’t really any other lesbian pop stars who had come out. 

1992 - This Used to be my Playground : Madonna - This song is about losing childhood innocence and gaining responsibilities. The song came to be seen as an ode to gay friends who died during the AIDS crisis, and the loss of innocence that epidemic caused.

1992 - The Last Song : Elton John -  A young gay man dying of AIDS. The young man’s father “disowned” his son when he learned of his homosexuality only to overcome his homophobia when he learns that his son is dying and he has little time to spend with him. This one makes me cry.

1993 - Go West : Pet Shop Boys (a remake of the song by the Village People) - This song imagines a utopia free of homophobia and discrimination. It’s a song of queer community & spirit, and we’ll do it “Together!”

1993 - Come to my Window : Melissa Etheridge - Melissa put the rumors to rest by publicly coming out and then released an album titled “Yes, I Am.” This song from the album is about a love that’s steeped in secrecy “come to my window, crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon.” Certainly many gay people know about keeping a love on the down low. The song’s bridge really voices what a lot of queer people feel: “I don’t care what they think, I don’t care what they say. What do they know about this love, anyway?”

1993 - Supermodel : Rupaul - His debut single introduced much of America to “sashay/shantay.” RuPaul used this breakthrough hit to become the first mainstream-approved drag queen.

1995 - I Kissed a Girl : Jill Sobule - An honest song of yearning, confusion, and freedom

1996 - Fastlove : George Michael - A guy was in a committed relationship, didn’t work out and now he just wants to not worry about love. “Had some bad love, so fast love is all that’s on my mind.” But even as he’s saying he’s seeking a casual hookup, keeps saying he misses his baby, being with someone he loves would be his preference.

1997 - Together Again : Janet Jackson - The album notes included: “I dedicate the song ‘Together Again’ to the friends I’ve lost to AIDS.” It’s a sweet song with hopeful words. “Everywhere I go, every smile I see, I know you are there smilin’ back at me”

1997 - Man! I Feel Like a Woman : Shania Twain - This is about going out, letting down your hair and having a good time. Message is she loves being a woman. “The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun.” My queer friends who identify as women love feeling like a woman. 

1998 - Believe : Cher - Whatever happens, you’ve gotta believe there’s something better coming. It’s about strength and power and hope. And the fact that it’s not always easy to be who you are.

1998 - Reflection : Christina Aguilera - This song is from the Disney movie Mulan. It’s about others not know the real you, which means the lyrics can also fit the experience of being in the closet. “Look at me. You may think you see who I really am, but you’ll never know me. Every day it’s as if I play a part.” The song also was adopted by a lot of trans people to say how they feel on the inside doesn’t match how they look on the outside. “Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?”

1998 - Outside : George Michael - George Michael was entrapped by police committing a lewd act in a public men’s bathroom in Los Angeles under suspicious circumstances. The video mocks the way queer men are held to different standards about sex. Straight rock stars screw groupies in bathrooms all the time without police interference. 

1998 - It’s Not Right But It’s Okay : Whitney Houston - “I’m gonna be okay/ I’m gonna be alright” shows a certain defiance & determination to go on that strikes a chord with LGBT people

1999 - When She Loved Me : Sarah McLachlan - This is from Toy Story 2, if you remove the idea this is about a toy, the lyrics are about a woman reminiscing a past female lover.

2001 - Androgyny : Garbage - I think this song has two messages. First, don’t dismiss people who don’t fit traditional gender roles. The other message is about trans individuals who “can’t see the point in going on,” they’re reminded that “nothing in life is set in stone, there’s nothing that can’t be turned around.” “Boys in the girls room, Girls in the men’s room, You free your mind in your androgyny” Trans individuals who were assigned female at birth may consider themselves “boys in the girls room.” Then when they decide to present themselves as male, others may consider them to be “girls in the men’s room.”

2002 - Beautiful : Christina Aguilera - This song affirms those who feel they don’t fit in. The video includes young people with body issues, a goth punk, a (biological) man putting on women’s clothes and two guys kissing in public. “I am beautiful no matter what they say. Words can’t bring me down.” But songs can lift you up, and this one does.  

2005 - Hung Up : Madonna -  It’s about living your best life and not wasting anymore time on men who wont call you. And it has that synthesizer riff from ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)

2005 - Proud of Your Boy : Clay Aiken - This song was written for Aladdin. The words make me think of coming out and wondering what your parents are going to think and can you make your parents proud.

2006 - And I’m Telling You : Jennifer Hudson - This song is about an underdog, and being LGBT makes us underdogs in our heteronormative society. “And I am telling you that I’m not going.” I’m going to be here and I’m going to thrive, I’m going to be me and you’re going to see me and “You’re Gonna Love Me.” Those lyrics remind me about coming out and getting to be who you want to be, no matter what anybody tells you.

2006 - I Am What I Am : Ginger Minj - this song is from a broadway show about drag queens. The message is you only get one life so take your shots, whether or not they succeed, it’s better to live your life as who you are

2007 - I Don’t Dance : Corbin Bleu, Lucas Grabeel - This song from High School Musical 2 is a where Chad, co-president of the drama club, is trying to get Ryan, co-president of the basketball team, to “swing” to the other side, if you know what I mean. The scene in the movie is about playing baseball, and at the end of that shot, the two of them are sitting together wearing the other’s clothes. Guess Chad got Ryan to swing.  

2009 - Bad Romance : Lady Gaga - First, it’s gender neutral so any of us can sing without translating pronouns. Second, it’s about loving someone completely, including the “bad” parts, “I want your ugly, i want your disease.” Third, Lady Gaga showed up to the 2010 MTV Music Awards w/ four members of the U.S. military who had been discharged or resigned because of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. When she went on stage to receive the Video of the Year award for “Bad Romance,” Gaga had changed into the now-infamous “meat dress,” as a way to show her anger about the military’s anti-LGBTQ policy. “If we don’t stand up for what we believe in and if we don’t fight for our rights, pretty soon we’re going to have as much rights as the meat on our bones,” she later explained to Ellen DeGeneres.  

2009 - If I Had You : Adam Lambert - I love how the beginning sounds like the singer is going out to a gay club “So I got my boots on, got the right amount of leather, and I’m doing me up with a black color liner, and I’m working my strut.” Not the way we usually hear about a guy getting ready for a night out  

2009 - Whataya Want From Me : Adam Lambert - I wonder if this song references when he was figuring out his sexuality with words like “Yeah, it’s plain to see, baby you’re beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me, I’m a freak.”

2010 - All the Lovers : Kylie Minogue - A feel-good dance track about love. The video has people strip down to their underwear, form a pyramid and begin kissing. All sorts of people kissing, very pansexual.  

2010 - Raise Your Glass : P!nk - The song is a call to the underdogs of the world, the “loud and nitty-gritty dirty little freaks,” to ignore convention and just let loose. 

2010 - Firework : Katy Perry - She’s saying everyone is a firework–an ordinary, ugly, or insignificant wrapping but when the right situation arises, like a flame to a fuse, they ignite and show how amazing, extraordinary, and beautiful each one of us is. No wonder it’s loved by the queer community, once we let out what’s inside us, others will see we’re bright and beautiful. I will always think of being at Pride and a preacher guy spewing hate had entered the grounds and people formed a circle around him and sang this song, and many others joined in until security removed him, it was beautiful.  

2010 - Dancing on my Own : Robyn - It’s a break up song. “Somebody said you got a new friend. Does she love you better than I can? There’s a big black sky over my town.” But with a great dance beat like this, it’s a sure bet Robyn won’t be dancing on her own for long.

2010 - F**kin’ Perfect : P!nk - With all the negative messages we grow up hearing about our gender identity or sexual orientation, it’s so affirming to hear “Don’t you ever ever feel like your less than, less than perfect”

2010 - Grace Kelly : MIKA - While there aren’t any direct mentions of sexuality, this song is very much about how people have judged MIKA for being flamboyantly himself

2010 - Teenage Dream : Glee Cast - This song sung by one boy for another was a big moment on a big TV show.

2011 - We Found Love : Rihanna - Finding love in a hopeless place, for many queer people can mean what it’s like to be in a heteronormative society. Or also that hard transition to accept & love yourself, and imagining going from that to someone finding and loving you.

2011 - Americano : Lady Gaga - The song is about the unjust laws that exist in America, particularly regarding immigration and gay rights. She sings of a scenario in which she meets a girl from east L.A. (heavily Hispanic population) and falls in love with her but can’t marry due to the laws prohibiting gay marriage, “we fell in love but not in court.” As to the “I don’t speak your Americano/Languageono/Jesus Cristo” I think that’s refusing to use the type of rhetoric that is used to justify the laws.  

2011 - Born This Way : Lady Gaga - Many songs hint at queer identities and acceptance by using metaphors, but not this one, it is direct. “No matter gay, straight, or bi, lesbian, transgender life, I’m on the right track, baby, I was born to survive.” 

2012 - Let’s have a Kiki : Scissor Sisters -  A drag performer heading to put on a show but when she arrives at the club it’s been shut down by the police. Instead she calls up a friend and announces we’re coming over and having a kiki.

2012 - For All : Far East Movement - As the fight for marriage equality was taking place, this song’s lyrics meant a lot. “Love is for all. Life is for all. Dreams are for all. Hope is for all. Feel the love from everybody in the crowd now, this is for y’all, this is for all.” The video intersperses some uplifting words from President Obama. 

2012 - People Like Us : Kelly Clarkson - the song is about all the people who are brave enough to challenge the social norms to bring about changes in the world. These words in particular strike me: “this is the life that we choose” and “come out, come out if you dare,”

2012 - They Don’t Know About Us : One Direction - The song is about how people tell a couple they shouldn’t be together, that their love isn’t real. Sound like something a queer couple might hear? In the song, no one can stop them, they’re together for life. And people thought this song might have been hinting about Larry Stylinson.

2013 - Closer : Tegan and Sara - Not many bands are made up of twin lesbian sisters. This song is really cute. The lyrics are about the anticipation before the kiss, before anything gets physical. It’s a love song that conjures adolescent longing, And it’s cherishing that gap between anticipation and release—asking to be closer, not touching. And it seems to speak to that particularly queer feeling of wanting someone you know you may never get.

2013 - Brave : Sara Bareilles - she wrote this catchy song of courage as a love letter to a friend who was struggling to come out as an adult.

2013 - Follow Your Arrow : Kacey Musgraves - “kiss lots of boys – or kiss lots of girls, if that’s something you’re into,” pretty remarkable to be included in a Country song

2013 - Same Love : Macklemore & Ryan Lewis - I have a nephew who got called gay for wearing stylish clothes, being neat, and interested in art & music. He had a hard time accepting that his uncle (me) is gay because of his experience, and it made me think of this song.

2013 - She Keeps Me Warm : Mary Lambert - A beautiful song about how women can love each other, protect each other and want each other. And the lyrics “not crying on Sundays” I think means not believing the damning words preached by religion about being gay

2013 - Really Don’t Care : Demi Levato - The video starts off with Lovato expressing her support for the LGBT community and saying that “Jesus loves all.” After that, the music starts and Levato is seen singing at a Pride parade.

2013 - Q.U.E.E.N. : Janelle Monáe - The title is an acronym for Queer, Untouchables, Emigrants, Excommunicated, and Negroid. The song is about the empowerment of oppressed people. Monáe uses a question-answer format to explain stereotypes, misconceptions, and oppression.

2013 - Girls/Girls/Boys : Panic! At the Disco - This song describes a love triangle between a boy and two girls, and the boy is being played off against a girl for the other girl’s attention.

2014 - Break Free : Ariana Grande - Her older brother is gay and she grew up around his friends, she’s an ally. And the words of this song, “I’m stronger than I’ve been before. This is the part when I break free ’cause I can’t resist it no more” has the theme often found in gay anthems, that things are tough, but I’m tougher and going to make it.

2014 - Sleeping with a Friend : Neon Trees - Glenn Tyler says he was thinking of a straight friend when he wrote this (but used female pronouns in the song). It’s an unusual love song because it’s a cautionary tale of hooking up with someone you’re close with.

2014 - Sissy that Walk : Rupaul - a perfect walkway song for all those drag queens and any of the rest of us who want to flaunt it

2014 - Put ‘Em Up : Priory - The song begins with a religious mom saying her queer kid has some kind of sickness. But who gives anyone the right to judge another’s lover?

2014 - Rise Like a Phoenix - Conchita Wurst - This song is about combating prejudice and the judgement of others in modern society. Conchita won Eurovision wearing a gown, makeup and a beard.

2015 - Cool for the Summer : Demi Levato - She is curious and has a woman she’s gonna spend the summer exploring with. “Got a taste for the cherry and I just need to take a bite.”

2015 - Heaven : Troye Sivan - Troye sings candidly about what it’s like for a religious teenager to come out as gay, about the struggles coming to terms with your sexuality. “Without losing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven? Without changing a part of me, how do I get to heaven? All my time is wasted, feeling like my heart’s mistaken, oh, so if I’m losing a piece of me, maybe I don’t want heaven?” The video features footage from LGBTQ protests throughout history.

2015 - Youth : Troye Sivan - It’s a really beautiful song about giving the best years of yourself to someone you love. 

2016 - Alive : Sia - The song is about someone who had a tough life, but is like, “I’m still breathing.” It is the personification of power.

2016 - Boyfriend : Tegan and Sara - This song tells the exhausting story of someone you’re basically dating, but they won’t come out in the open and admit it because they’re scared, confused, and insecure about their sexuality.

2016 - G.D.M.M.L. Grls : Tyler Glenn - Despite his best efforts to make church work, it didn’t work out because God Didn’t Make Me Like Girls.

2016 - Genghis Khan : Mike Snow - This video surprised me the first time I watched. It’s a James Bond-type hero & villain who fall for each other.  

2016 - The Greatest : Sia - Dedicated to the LGBT community in the wake of the Pulse shooting, Sia begs us to not give up and to follow our dreams.

2017 - Bad Liar : Selena Gomez - the video portrays a love triangle (with each character played by Selena)–a curious high school student, seductive gym coach and male teacher. Towards the end of the video, the high school student sings the line, “With my feelings on fire, guess I’m a bad liar,” as she looks at a photo of the gym teacher. It’s a scene that shows the fear of acknowledging and declaring our sexuality—a moment of many a queer experience.

2017- If You Were Gay : San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus - This song is from the musical Avenue Q. This choir’s performance of the song is delightful. 

2017 - This is Me : Keala Settle - The song from The Greatest Showman sings of resilience in the face of hardship — which, after all, is what Pride is all about. “Another round of bullets hits my skin. Well, fire away ’cause today, I won’t let the shame sink in”

2017 - You Will Be Found : Ben Platt - This song from Dear Evan Hansen means a lot to me. There’s a gay teen who posted a question on Tumblr, I responded, and together we’ve been through a lot, suicidality, helped him with coming out and nerves about a first love. He says this is our song because I found him. But for everyone, this song is hopeful that when you need it, someone will be there for you.

2017 - 1-800-273-8255 : Logic - This is a song about a closeted guy who is suicidal and calls a help line. The operator wants him to be alive and helps save him in that moment.

2017 - Bad at Love : Halsey - Halsey flips through all the guys and girls she’s dated in an attempt to understand why she hasn’t yet found love. Queen of bisexual relatability!

2018 - A Million Dream : P!nk - this song from The Greatest Showman is about the power of positive thinking, faith and believing in your dreams. For queer people, it’s a reminder that we are building a better world.

2018 - All the Things : Betty Who - This is the theme song for the wildly popular Netflix show Queer Eye.

2018 - Never Been In Love : Will Jay - It’s such a great bop and I have loved Will Jay since his IM5 days, and this seems perfect for my ace/aro friends. “I’m not missing out so don’t ask me again. Thanks for your concern, but here’s the thing, I’ve never been in love and it’s all good”

2018 - Make Me Feel : Janelle Monáe - Sexuality is simply how a person makes you feel, regardless of gender. The music video for ”Make Me Feel” features Janelle crawling between women’s legs and grinding up on both a male and female love interest under bisexual lighting.

2018 - Promises : Calvin Harris, Sam Smith - a glittery homage to vogueing and drag ballroom culture in the music video.

2019 - You Need to Calm Down : Taylor Swift - an entire verse that’s literally about going to a Pride parade.

[unnecessary-database]

every movie has multiple epilogues, right?

 (the epilogues will be multiple)  (if you’re new here, don’t start here.)

Filming with a freshly engaged Kara and Lena was both a dream and a nightmare, Sam reflected. Their chemistry on screen had only grown with the years, going from something big and raw and nervous and real to something easy and safe and true and wonderful. It was exactly what Sam wanted to show on screen with a relationship, especially between two women. It went even better since Lena and Kara were so clearly stupidly in love and on the same exact page. It was a nightmare because they were stupidly in love. 

Sam had been dumb enough to film the bedroom scenes in the middle of the schedule. There had been another hickey fight, which the makeup department thought was amusing until they realized they had to cover said hickeys every morning. Kara had most definitely started it this time. Kara still maintained it was Lena's fault, since Lena started it the last time. (That was partially true. Lena had started it in revenge for the first time, though Lena had started it the first time too. Sam was still torn between grateful and annoyed she had them film those scenes towards the end of the movie last time, so they were together in real life when they did it. She had specifically planned it so hopefully they'd get their shit together and she wouldn't have to suffer through them playing that one out as "best friends". She was right, but then had to deal with them as a couple. It was a marginal win.) 

The hickey fight was, while amusing to most of the crew, almost entirely irritating to Sam, though she was sure she'd laugh about it eventually. Like when she used it as blackmail. She did have plenty of pictures of both of them covered in hickeys in bizarre locations. "I'm honestly stunned the two of you manage to contain the hickey fight to the filming of those scenes," Sam muttered at them at the end of one. Kara, already a little red, blushed scarlet, and Sam held up a hand. "I don't want to know."

Filming with them was also a nightmare because of how many of Sam's crew were hopeless shippers that couldn't stop sighing dreamily whenever they did something especially cute. And a fifteen-year-old Ruby that only wanted to spend her time with Lena and Kara, who were mostly only too happy to take her in.

But all in all, the dream side won out. Sam rarely had to track them down separately anymore. They both had their own trailers, but Sam was pretty sure that Ruby had taken over Lena's and turned it into a video game hideout, and Lena had yet to be seen inside of it. They were both always in only the highest of spirits, and did that annoying thing where they dragged everyone else up to cloud nine with them. Mostly though, Sam was just pleased she didn't have to watch them dance around each other anymore. That shit had been painful. 

Maybe also because Kara and Lena had already asked her to officiate the wedding.

---

"Lena," Kara whined. "We. Are. Going. To. Be. Late."

"And whose fault is that?" Lena called, and Kara sighed. 

"Sam's, I'm gonna say," Kara yelled back. "She put filming that final sex scene on the second to last day. She knew we'd have another hickey fight."

"And yet," Lena reminded her, appearing from the bathroom and tilting her head back for inspection. Kara nodded; nothing was visible. "You were the one who put them in such an obvious spot." Kara tugged at her collar wordlessly, baring her collarbone, which was much more colorful than usual. Lena shrugged, unrepentant. "Maybe I did it because I knew Sam wanted you in suits until the movie came out for promotional reasons."

"Uh huh," Kara said, accepting Lena's chaste kiss on her cheek. "Or maybe you are the one that wanted me in suits."

"So what if I do?" Lena asked nonchalantly, reaching for her purse and heading for the door. "It's good press, that's all I have to say about--oh!"

Kara had picked her up from behind and spun her around. "If you do, I might have to have a word with your inner demon-witch," Kara said, releasing her and failing to contain a smile. "Because she's not quite so inner every once in a while."

"Oh, please," Lena huffed, "I've been like this the entire time you've known me and you love it."

Kara tilted her head, considering. She twisted her lips to the side, and Lena raised an eyebrow. "You're right," Kara decided. "Now come on, Miss Morally-Redeemable-Demon-Witch, we've got tickets to the gayest show on Broadway's final run with its original stars and we really cannot be late, Winn and James will kill us."

"Alright, alright," Lena said, pushing at Kara's stomach to get her to move out the door. "After you, Prince Charming."

"Don't start," Kara warned, trying for stern but unable to stop the smile from pushing up at her lips. "Actually, why did you even start that?"

Lena shrugged. "I think it's very fitting. You're very dashing, you always charm everyone, you're like this paragon of goodness. You rescued me from my horrible family."

Kara wrapped an arm around Lena's shoulders and kissed the side of her head gently. "I know we've talked about this a million times before," she said in Lena's ear as they stepped onto the sidewalk, "But I never rescued you. I'm thrilled to be awarded the honor of being there for you, but you rescued yourself all on your own."

Lena took a deep breath in and out. "I know." She was silent for a moment, squeezing at Kara's hand. She smirked. "Maybe it's just because of your abs then."

"For the love of--"

"Come on, Kara, we can't be late. I know you've seen the show fifteen times already but it's still their last run." Lena tilted her head thoughtfully, smiling widely. "And Winn and James' two-year anniversary."

---

"Soon-to-be-married superstars are taking a break to go rebuild a barn?" Alex stared at them. "Lena, unless you've got something up your sleeve, this is a very poor plan. Kara knows nothing about building. She might look it, but she is not the handy type of gay. She can build a set, but structural supports? That thing will crush you in your sleep and I am not ever going to be in the mood to drive an hour upstate to come dig the pair of you out of the rubble."

Lena snorted and Kara protested, Maggie snickering in the background. "Relax, Alex, we're just redecorating. We already paid someone to do it. We're just helping with the design. It's where we're going to have the wedding, you know we've already set the date. Plus, you're all welcome to come visit."

 "Just not right away," Kara muttered. "We've barely finished with the press tour and haven't been alone together for more than a minute since New York." Lena slid her fingers into Kara's, whose frown eased out slowly.

Maggie raised a glass. "Cheers to your lesbian hideaway, then. May we borrow it when you aren't aware for forevermore."

---

Lena woke up to the sound of Kara cursing fluently and the smoke alarm. 

"Fuck ow shit damn fuck, the fuck is wrong with this thing? Shut up, you're a fucking mechanical piece of engineering, so stop beeping at the smell of my burned flesh it is seven thirty in the morning, for the love of god and sweet shit, there isn't even any smoke, thank you, that's right, shut the fuck up you motherfucking little--oh. Hey Lena."

Lena felt her eyebrow rise as she moved into the kitchen, wrapping her robe a little more firmly around herself. They were still working on central heating solutions. "Having fun with the kitchen?"

Kara smiled sheepishly, her face at total odds with the stream of venom coming out of her moments ago, especially with two of her fingers stuck in her mouth in a fashion that could only be described as adorable. She removed them to show Lena a mild burn across the backs of them, and Lena clicked her tongue in disapproval, moving the freezer to pull out the frozen peas. "Thanks," Kara murmured, hissing as Lena pressed them against the burn. 

"Morning, darling," Lena said mildly, and Kara looked up from her burned hand shyly.

"I was going to make you breakfast," she said. "I had not, um, something went wrong."

Lena glanced over to where Kara had at least successfully turned all the heat off the range. "Has it been a while since you cooked this?"

"New recipe," Kara admitted guiltily. "I wanted to try that thing on Giada last night."

Lena's stomach chose that moment to grumble, and Kara quirked an eyebrow. "Shut up," Lena muttered automatically, and Kara grinned. "Darling, that's very sweet of you, but I thought we established after the knife-in-your-finger-instead-of-the-corn and blood-in-the-cornbread incident that you wouldn't try any new recipes without going over them with me first so we could plan it out?"

Kara pouted, and Lena sighed. "But Giada went over it," she whined at her peas, still firmly facing the floor. 

"You have different strengths than Giada, superstar." Lena ducked to kiss Kara, who accepted it with her lower lip stuck out just the slightest, and Lena smiled into her. "Sit down and walk me through it." The smoke alarm went off again, and Lena sighed. "Over cereal," she added firmly, and ignored Kara's dramatic sigh. "I have plans for you that involve you being whole, and I am not about reschedule because you were feeling chivalrous, Prince Charming."

Kara smiled, slow and easy, and Lena felt the familiar warmth creep into her chest. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Robot Murderer."

"That really was your favorite role of mine, wasn't it?” Lena mused, pulling cereal out of the cabinet. “And we hadn't even met yet."

Kara blushed and looked back at her peas. "No comment."

Lena narrowed her eyes. "Oh, there will be a comment," she vowed, and watched with satisfaction the red creep up Kara's neck.

[kplr-radio]

Broadcast: Angelo Divine, 01/23/19

[Wide Open Spaces Dixie Chicks]

Angelo: Good morning everyone, this is 103.5 KPLR Radio, that was “Wide Open Spaces” by Dixie Chicks. I’m here in the studio, it’s actually been a pretty good morning, but I’m a morning person anyway so I’m probably biased. Anyway, I hope y’all are doing alright. It’s a clear Wednesday morning, we’re looking at sunshine all day, hopefully it’ll melt some of that ice. There’s a minor fender bender out on the main road, but it looks like it’ll be settled soon. That’s it for this morning’s news, let me play you a message from our sponsors.

[Audio Advertisement Transcript: Come on down to Whistle’s Auto, where our engine-uity will have your car back on the road in no time. Hear that? [drill noise] That’s us driving our point home. If you’re tire-d of your old vehicle, you can fuel your need for a new car at Whistle’s Auto! It’s the wheel deal! At the end of 5th Avenue.]

Angelo: Thanks so much to Whistle’s Auto for sponsoring us this week, we really appreciate it. I’ll play some music for y’all as I’m sure plenty of you are on the way to work. Here’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver.

[Take Me Home, Country Roads John Denver] [Live a Little Kenny Chesney] [God’s Gonna Cut You Down Johnny Cash]

Angelo: That was “Live a Little” by Kenny chesney and “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” by Johnny Cash. And it looks like we’ve got some time, so how about an Angelo’s Advice Hour? Call in now and I can answer y’all’s questions on anything and everything.

[Disclaimer: Angelo Divine is not qualified to answer most questions definitively. All answers are purely conjecture and Angelo Divine is not liable for any negative results that may come from following his advice.]

Caller: I think I bought a haunted *** couch and I’m gonna cry into my ******* mac and cheese. I don’t want to deal with spirits I just need to study!

Angelo: Well, I don’t know what ghoulish side effects this couch is inducing, but I’d say invest in some anti-spirit protection. I believe the antiques store has some guides on that. Salt doesn’t work, television is lying about that. But there’s some basic sigils that should keep your home ghost-free. Who’s next?

Caller: I have no idea who knows I’m a lesbian and who doesn’t and I really hate the whole “oh hey by the way I’m gay” so uhhhh do I just casually say I love women’s hockey and plaid flannels? Start painting rainbows? Let the revelations happen whenever?

Angelo: Yeah, coming out is tricky. In my experience, it’s easier to leave it up to interpretation than try and announce yourself whenever it comes up. The people who need to know will get it, usually just by being around you. If you want to do those things, go ahead. And maybe try and surround yourself with other people who like those things, and people will make the association themselves. Like, when I bleached my hair and started working at the radio station, it became very obvious that I’m gay, y’know? I hope that helps! I’m gonna play some music for y’all but we’ll be back with more questions in a bit. This is “High Note” by Mavis Staples.

[High Note Mavis Staples] [I Want A Cowboy Reba McEntire] [Friends In Low Places Garth Brooks]

Angelo: We’re back, folks, on 103.5 KPLR Radio, that was “I Want A Cowboy” by Reba McEntire followed up by “Friends In Low Places” by Garth Brooks. I’ll be taking more advice questions, and it looks like we got a caller.

Caller: I’m gonna fight a raccoon. [click]

Angelo: Well alright then. Hopefully that wasn’t my coworker, although I can’t say I’ve never seen him try and fight off a raccoon before. Good luck, listener, I guess? Who’s next?

Caller: Hey it's Cat again what kind of coffee do you want? I forgot your order sorry. Also might be a bit late the cops are— ****! **** okay gotta run! Still answer though thanks I'm almost there!

Angelo: Uh, okay, can you get me a latte? Also why are the cops— nevermind just tell me when you get here. Any real advice questions? Hello, you’re on air.

Caller: Hello, I just have a quick thing and it's has to do with my birth mom who just showed up after 18 of no word, demands to spend time with me but doesn't respect who I am. I feel like I owe her something since she is my mom but honestly I don't know. What do you think?

Angelo: That’s tough. I definitely think you aren’t obligated to spend time with her. I think… it could be helpful to have a conversation on what caused her to leave for so long, but if you don’t feel ready for that then you shouldn’t have to. Especially if she doesn’t respect who you are. But definitely you don’t owe her anything. I’ll go back to the music now, but we’ll be back afterwards for more of your questions. This is “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers.

[The Gambler Kenny Rogers] [Seven Year Ache Rosanne Cash] [Jolene Dolly Parton]

Angelo: That was “Seven Year Ache” by Rosanne Cash, and “Jolene” by Dolly Parton. Let’s get back to your questions. You’re on the air.

Caller: Hey! I was wondering if you could give me some advice? I have a huge crush on someone but I'm not too sure if they like me back.. Any tips for knowing?

Angelo: That’s the age-old question, innit? To be honest it varies so much from person to person, what their tells are. Some rules of thumb are if they go out of their way to be around or touch you, if they single you out in a group setting, and if they mention thinking of you at a point that you weren’t together. Still, those can be tricky, so I’d say having an honest conversation is the best way to go. Not that I can talk, but you know how it is. This is advice for you, not me. Hope that helps! [click] Hey, you’re live.

Caller: Ah yes hello, I was wonder if I could have advice one what sort of gift I should give someone to let them know that I'm attracted to them? I'm honestly hopeless about these kind of things. Any advice you have would be wonderful.

Angelo: Lots of romance stuff today. I get it, Valentine’s Day is coming up in less than a month. But this is a really good question. There’s two ways you can go with this, one of which I can’t really talk about on the radio. The sincere way is giving them stuff they like and/or need. If you’ve been paying attention when they talk, which is usually how getting a crush on someone works, you’ll probably hear what they like or what they would rather avoid. From there, it’s up to you. Alright, looks like we got one more caller on the line. Hello!

Caller: I’m in the mood to yearn. You’re good with music please and thank you.

Angelo: Today has been pretty yearn-y. Here’s a couple tender tunes, starting off with “Red River Valley” by Marty Robbins.

[Red River Valley Marty Robbins] [It’s A Sin Eddy Arnold] [If I Could Only Win Your Love Emmylou Harris]

Angelo: That was “It’s A Sin” by Eddy Arnold followed by “If I Could Only Win Your Love” by Emmylou Harris, here on 103.5 KPLR Radio. I’ll see y’all tomorrow morning, 6 AM sharp! Here’s “Achy Breaky Heart” by Billy Ray Cyrus.

[Achy Breaky Heart Billy Ray Cyrus]

[errant-ezra]

A Story, I Guess

I just watched @danielhowell ‘s new video and I think it’s time for me to share my story. I know it probably won’t make much of a difference because not too many people follow me, but I need to talk about it. TW: depression, self harm, homophobia, suicide

My name is Elizabeth C[redacted]. Sorry, no last name, because I’d rather nobody from my school/town saw this.

I’m queer. I don’t really have any specific label because I’m still figuring myself out. I’m not sure if I’m a female or nb or gender fluid. I know I like women. I know I like nb people. I know I like men. I’d rather not try to figure out the exact word that defines me right now.

I grew up in a small rural town. I still live here. 300 people, pre-k through senior year. It’s beautiful, it really is. Mountains, rivers, our autumns are breathtaking. The only ugly things are the trashy grocery store and some of the people.

Up until third grade, I only knew “gay” as a word for happy. I didn’t know that there were people who liked the same gender. I certainly didn’t know people weren’t always the gender they were assigned at birth. Quite a few people in my town still don’t know.

When I was in maybe first grade, a bully at my school called me and a friend “lesbians” on the bus. My friend told me to tell the bus driver. I didn’t even know what it meant.

In third grade, before the Christmas concert, a kid came up and said “Elizabeth has gay happy meetings.” And I said, “yeah, I’m happy” and he said “no, it means you like girls.” I don’t think I really understood what he meant by that. I just went along with it.

Up until seventh grade, everything was uneventful. I wasn’t really aware gay people existed. A rumor went around in sixth grade that our music teacher was a lesbian but I stood up for her because, from everything I knew, being a lesbian was bad.

And then, in eighth grade, a girl showed up. And I was screwed. I realized I liked her. More than just a friend. And I was bi. I sat with her and another out girl in the back of the bus on the way home and we would talk about the girls we thought were pretty.

Even in such a small school, though, these girls were the outcasts. Nobody really talked to them and so, by association, nobody really talked to me either. I don’t think we even told anyone we were queer, but we didn’t really hide it either.

I was lucky. My older sibling came out to me as bi a year earlier, and it made me confident enough to come out to my mom in a letter. My mom is a wonderful person, I just want everyone to know that. She is my favorite person on the planet. But she wasn’t exactly supportive.

She told me the typical “it might be a phase” and “lots of girls your age experiment.” And I cried. A lot. Because all I had wanted was a simple ok. All I’d wanted was to be told it was alright and she loved me. And she said she loved me. But she didn’t say it was normal.

I have a lot of internalized homophobia from when I was a kid. Everything stupid or bad or unpleasant? Gay. There’s still kids in my senior class who do this, and who use the f slur. And it’s fucked me up a lot.

A year or two later, I came out to my dad, this time as Pan. He said it was ok. He didn’t really care, I was always going to be his kid and he was always going to love me. “There’s a lot of good in you, kiddo.” That’s the thing that sticks out most in my mind.

But the internalized homophobia was still there. I fought it off by trying to be obnoxiously queer, talking about how pretty girls were, throwing around my sexuality like confetti. And on the outside it worked.

On the inside, it didn’t. I have a genetic disposition for anxiety and depression. My mom says our thermostats for serotonin are just set too low. And in the summer before ninth grade, it got bad.

I went to a camp. Like, a camping type of camp where we went on hikes and slept in tents and only got to shower every other day. The first day I was seated at a table with a guy I’ll call Mike. And I could tell he was gay. He was talking about his significant other, tentatively mentioned he was a guy, and all the other people kept eating.

He and I became close friends over the rest of the week, along with a gender-fluid kid we can call Jack and a straight girl (she thought at the time, later she realized I was her lesbian awakening which sucks cause I had a huge crush on her at the time and hid it) I’ll call Kelly.

We talked a lot. The other three had pretty prominent mental health issues, and were open about it. I mentioned how my mental health wasn’t great either. The four of us bonded, and at the end of the week we promised to keep in touch.

Later that summer, we were still all in touch and my mind was getting worse, no small part due to the internalized homophobia. I self harmed for the first time, scratching my face until it bled. I had scabs for the rest of the summer.

After that, it only got worse. I started cutting, using a pencil sharpener I had and bandaging it with loose leaf. I was alone, I was hopeless, I didn’t belong, I wasn’t right. I started writing suicide letters pretty frequently.

In tenth grade, it reached its peak. I was in a very toxic relationship with a guy for quite a while, and it only worsened my mental state. I wanted support, but all I got was someone telling me to suck it up. So I sucked it up, and kept it inside, and let it eat away at me.

And then I fell in love. With a girl. And she was everything to me. She was silly and brilliant and so full of light and life. And I was so terrified of being with a girl that it took me four months of dating to finally kiss her.

But for the first time, I felt right. Even though there was this awful pressure and my mom was uncomfortable with me being with this girl, I felt so happy with her that I could ignore that. But I wasn’t good enough still.

As much as I wish I could say she saved me, I still had to save myself. And I was reluctant to do so. At this point I was on a small dose of Zoloft and was going to therapy, but I was still unmanageable. It got to the point where I would think about killing myself nearly every day. And then, one day, I opened my eyes and I had pills in my hand and a glass of water and I realized it was a mistake.

I didn’t kill myself that night. And I haven’t gotten that close since. But I still have panic attacks. I was clean for almost a year up until last week when stress caught up to me all at once. But I’m working on it.

My worst tendency, though, isn’t physical. I have this awful habit of finding any homophobic website, thread, discussion, whatever, and reading it until I can feel myself on the brink of a panic attack. I would do this over and over, feeding that hatred inside me. And I don’t know why.

I still do this, though I’ve gotten better. I have a bi pride flag hanging in my bedroom window. I have rainbow pride shirts and buttons. I have forced myself to accept who I am over and over, and some days it still feels impossible. But I’m getting there. And one day, maybe I’ll get to the point wherever that awful thing inside me doesn’t exist. But until then, I have to work and push every day to love myself.

I know this is just terribly long and probably not worth reading, but... I needed to say it. Because I’ve never put it all out there. And while that girl and I are no longer together, we still love each other. I’ve had some other relationships, but none of them have felt the same. I’m comfortable openly flirting with girls now.

Basically, what I’m saying, is that there is hope. It gets better. You are strong. You can survive. And also, it’s a process. It may take a while to truly love yourself, but I promise, you will get there. And in the meantime, just love being yourself. You’re living a life that nobody else will ever get to live. And that’s incredible. So take a minute sometimes to remember that. You’re worth it. You matter. We love you.

[timeisacephalopod]

Death of a Bachelor

Non-powered coming out IronStrange AU in which Stephen brings Tony home under a few... false pretenses. And, as always when I write him, Stephen is Asian (Nepali). The title for this is literally because Death of a Bachelor is stuck in my head and it sorta fits lol.

Peter sighs, “just you know... be yourself,” he says.

Tony squints, “‘myself’ sucks, what kind of garbage advice is that?” he asks. “I’ve got one shot at this and I know I’m going to botch it.” He’s never been good at ‘meet the parents’. Its happened once and Pepper’s parents still hate him and they aren’t even together anymore.

“That’s what you’d tell me!” Peter says.

“That’s because you’re a sweet, loving young man and anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m an asshole with a long history of warmongering and that’s honestly not even my biggest flaw.” And that’s a fucking feat. 

“Okay you know what, is Stephen even the type to care if his parents like you? Because you’ve been for dating for over a year and I think he’s mentioned them once and that was in direct reference to his dead sister so I don’t really think it matters too much,” he says.

Probably not, Stephen isn’t the type to care what others think period. But Tony wants at least one set of parents to like him and he loves Stephen so this is probably his last chance. If all goes well he wants to propose, was going to anyways, but Stephen brought up his parents so he thought he’d deal with that first. So he really, really only has one shot at this. “It would be nice if a set of parents didn’t hate me for once. Not that I’d blame them really- if you brought home someone who’s a fan of me I’d tell you to dump them immediately. My fans are worse than Fight Club fans.”

Peter laughs, “its true. But I think that’s mostly because they think that time you were a womanizing warmongering alcoholic is like peak you and glorify it, not because you’re actually crappy,” he says.

Across the apartment the elevator door dings and Pepper steps out, “what?” she asks when they swivel to face her.

“We’re talking about dad’s crappy fans,” Peter says. “And also him meeting Stephen’s parents tomorrow.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, “ your fans are awful. They take who they want you to be and tout that image around no matter how little it actually resembles you as a person. As for Stephen’s parents, I have no advice. You’re horrible at these things,” she says.

“See?” Tony says to Peter. “Even Pepper thinks I’m hopeless.”

*

Stephen considers not telling Tony but if he doesn’t he’ll be in for a rather nasty surprise and he can see how nervous he is already. “They’re going to hate you,” he says bluntly and Tony glares at him.

“Is that really supposed to make me feel better?” he asks.

No, but that isn’t why he’s telling Tony anyways. “It won’t be your fault, they’re raging homophobes so they’re going to hate you on account of not being a woman. And I sort of told them you were Christine because I didn’t want to come out over the phone so they’re also going to be a bit surprised. Not that I care, its my grandmother I’d like to like you anyways but if she doesn’t she’s old, its entirely possible that she’s gone senile.” She’d have to be to not like Tony.

Frankly the only reason he’s doing this is because he’s going to propose and his parents Google him once and awhile to figure out what he’s up to. He can’t not tell them and if he tells his gran she’s got a big mouth, she’ll tell them accidentally or maybe on purpose- its hard to tell with her- and then he’ll have to explain himself. So to bypass all that drama he figures he’ll bring Tony home, deal with his parents’ crap, and then propose and get married in peace. Assuming Tony says yes and its a very real possibility he won’t. He’s only been stated that he’s not a marriage person his entire life.

God, he loathes risks he can’t determine the outcome of with at least some educated success.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Tony mumbles and Stephen pities him, really. At least his parents are dead so Stephen doesn’t need to worry about impressing the dust in their graves.

*

To say meeting Stephen’s parents goes badly is an understatement. The first thing they did was look confused, which Tony can’t blame them for considering he very much does not look like a ‘Christine’ let alone Stephen’s Christine. First of all she’s taller. Then Stephen had issued a rather formal ‘I’m bisexual’ and pretended like he hadn’t just said that and then his parents launched into transphobia with their relief that Stephen wasn’t dating some kind of freak. Because apparently he can totally pass as a Christine. Stephen had winced almost harder at that than Tony considering he obviously forgot Peter is trans and Tony doesn’t have the patience for people insulting that.

As it was he only kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to make anything worse but Stephen’s parents insist of doing that themselves with their weird and invasive questions. Eventually Stephen’s old as shit grandmother told them to shut up, which had resulted in the best part of the night. It had been pretty clear that Stephen’s relationship with his grandmother was stronger than the one with his parents so he’d look pleased when she stood up for Tony, who was very close to his wits end and he thinks he has a dash of patience these days.

When she tells him to stop putting up with Stephen’s parent’s shit Stephen stuffs his face into his glass of wine, obviously anticipating disaster. Tony considers not saying anything but he’s had a bad night and frankly it can’t get worse. 

“Alright- I know I’m more than famous enough for both of you to know who I am and that I’m a recovering alcoholic. Stop trying to offer my wine, its ignorant. Neither Stephen nor I are the woman in our relationship, that’s the fucking point. Neither of us even fit traditional gender roles anyways and if this is some weird, coded way to ask about our sex life neither of us fit the ‘top’ or ‘bottom’ stereotypes either and its fucking boring to stick to one or the other. Also what the hell would it have mattered if I really was Christine? The fuck does my junk or gender have to do with you? You have a lovely home, but its too bad such shit people live in it. Except you, you seem like you’d be fun a a bachelor party,” he says to Stephen’s grandmother.

She grins at Stephen while his parents sit dumbfounded, “I like him, he’s spunky!” she says. Yeah, because apparently the woman who’s two days older than the damn earth itself is more openminded than people half her age.

*

By the time Tony gets home Stephen is howling with laughter. “I can’t believe you started quoting studies at them,” he says, shaking his head.

“Its not my fault they’re idiots, someone had to tell them they’re wrong and also I have an eidetic memory. Figured I’d put it to good use,” he says.

Stephen shakes his head, “well, at least you made that marginally less painful and gran likes you so there’s that. And she’s not easy to impress- she didn’t like actual Christine.”

Tony smiles, “she knew you weren’t going to last or at least that’s what she told me. And also she’s still convinced Christine is a lesbian even though I’m pretty sure she’s bisexual. But she seems to think we’re good together and she’s also completely convinced your father isn’t actually your father. She’s certain your mother cheated on him at some point but given the fact that she’s Asian and the guy she thinks is your actual father is white it’d be basically impossible to tell. Which is how she explains how fucking tall you are.” Turns out the woman, despite her age, is quite spry and has a lot of opinions that she’d been happy to share with Tony. But her conspiracies on Stephen’s parentage were his favorite and, to humor the woman, he agreed to run a DNA test to confirm or deny who Stephen’s father is.

Stephen lets out a long, drawn out sigh that indicates he’s heard this before. “I’ve told her a million times there is no way more than one person would be willing to sleep with my mother. I’m shocked one person was willing to sleep with my mother and if it weren’t for the pictures I’d assume I’d been kidnapped as a child.”

“Yeah, but apparently your actual father is a very tall Scandinavian man and I think your grandmother is on to something. I looked up the average height in Nepal and you’re a literal foot taller than that. You’d be a giant there,” he says.

“And if we’re going by the average height in Italy, you’d be a woman,” Stephen says, giving Tony an irritated look.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles.

*

Stephen settles an arm around Tony’s waist, “I think maybe we should have waited until she died to get married,” he says, eyeing his grandmother talking to Peter.

“I’ve always wanted a grandson that isn’t a massive prick, you seem like a lovely young man,” she says, grinning happily.

Tony looks up at Stephen, who is indeed his father’s child, “your grandma gives off chaotic trickster vibes, I’m half convinced she’s immortal.” 

Stephen sighs, “you probably aren’t aren’t wrong,” he says.

“I don’t think Stephen is that bad,” Peter says in Stephen’s defense not that it works out in his favor given his grandma’s reaction.

“Honey I’m old, but my senses are still working just fine. He’s an arrogant little shit,” she says. Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen a grandmother swear that much but when he met all her spunky granny friends last week he’d been subjected to a bunch of sex jokes and talk of dildos so he’s not really surprised anymore. Even if he genuinely had no clue that grandmothers made sex jokes.

“I think I’ve earned my arrogance,” Stephen mumbles, coming to his own defense.

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve been like this your whole life. Take some lessons from Peter, he’s humble,” she tells him and Tony snorts and starts laughing. 

“Our wedding is gunna be awesome,” he says.