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sokkas-honour · 4 years ago

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#17 for the spotify wrapped with zuko! <3

prom queen - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

wc: 1k (it’s a short one, i didn’t feel like exploring this song too much as i associate it with a certain sort of my life. i also didn’t put too much effort into tbh, again for the same reason)

warning: if you’re sensitive to body image talk, possible diet talk, possible starvation mention, please don’t go any further. i tried to keep it as light as possible but i did project onto it a bit.

notes: i cherry picked lyrics that work best for this, and the least triggering ones. its kinda of a part two to detention as requested by @aangsupremacy (hopefully this works for you), just not a direct one.

wish i was like you, blue-eyed blondie, perfect body,

she was everything you could never be. with beautiful long black hair and an elegance that you only wish you could have. but most of all, she had the firelord’s attention, she had his heart. she had his attention ever since they were children and it was foolish of you to ever imagine things going differently.

it was foolish of you to think he’d even fall for you, the waterbender who’d been tasked to be his bodyguard ever since you two were children. it was foolish of you to think that, even though you two had been through so much together, you still would never even cross his mind as anything more than a simple friend.

all the nights you two spent on that boat, giving him a space to talk when he needed it. you had always been there for him, you were with him every step of the way from the agni kai to ba sing se, to joining the avatar and defeating ozai. you two had grown close during that time and you genuinely thought that something was happening between the two of you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. you had forgotten that the affection that zuko felt towards mai transcended any relationship that you had built up with him. spirits did you wish you were her.

maybe I should try harder, you should lower your beauty standards,

you remembered the comments you used to get while on the boat, your body constantly being picked apart by middle aged men who didn’t have any better to do then to bodyshame a teenager. being away from the crew, a weight had been lifters off your shoulders when you found a group of friends that never said anything about your appearance nor found anything wrong with it.

you should’ve realised that when you agreed to join zuko as his advisor that the picking apart would get worse. his cabinet was still very closed minded and judgemental, none of them liked the idea of a waterbender from a watertribe to be the one advising the leader of the firenation, none of them seemed to remember that your whole childhood was spent in between these walls.

most of the time, words were never said directly to you but usually were whispers strategically placed to make sure you heard what they all thought about you. it hurt a lot but you were able to push down all of your emotions until one day, when someone who used to be a part of zuko’s crew, came to help him around the place. the crew had caught on that despite how much he aggravated you, you had a thing for zuko, so he of course made fun of you for it in front of the firelord’s officers who knew of his current relationship status. and that’s when things started to go down hill.

“i’m going to find the firelord and see what he thinks about it.” it all started when you were having a meeting with some of his esteemed generals and admirals, he was absent so you took his place which meant that some people thought it was fun to try and take advantage of your lack of authority. the only way to settle the current argument was to grab the firelord himself and drag zuko into the mess that only he could clean.

“wouldn’t want to do that, his girlfriend might think you’d want to steal him.” a misplaced teasing rang from general tao, one who seemed to always be against you.

“please, mai would take one look at her and not even think that she’d pose a threat. i mean have you seen her body?” another voice inserted himself into the conversation and you started to feel like you’d wish that you could just evaporate into thin air.

“not to mention that marrying someone from the watertribe would be absolutely dishonourable.” general sho added, a smirk on his face as he knew that all of their comments were affecting you. sho was definitely someone who liked to pretend that he didn’t miss ozai, just like half of the people in the room that laughed at the jokes.

“meeting adjourned.” you exclaimed, not wanting to even deal with them any longer and just go to your room and cry about what had happened. you were the first to stand up and go to the leave the room but right as you were about to leave, you heard one more comment.

“go cry about it, maybe you can waterbend it or, even better, loose a little.” it was the last straw and you felt your eyes prick with tears but you couldn’t show total weakness so you held your composure and scurried to your room, making sure to avoid absolutely anyone.

im no quick-curl barbie, i was never cut out for prom queen,

when you closed the door to your chamber, you threw yourself on your bed and just cried, letting all the words that everyone had ever said get to you. you knew that you weren’t ever going to make a good ruler, which is probably for the best that mai is a good contender for the position seeing as she and zuko are madly in love.

but spirits did you wish you were. you weren’t the regal type, you weren’t elegant, you weren’t raised as someone important, you were raised as a bodyguard who’s entire worth was based on wether or not you could protect the future firelord. not matter how much you tried to get over him, you couldn’t. your entire self worth had been based around him since a young age so of course it continued into your early adult years. your whole life had been intertwined with zuko and your destinies, at least that’s what you thought, were always going to be shared in a way.

maybe that’s why you tried your hardest to always be nice to him, be there for him, be a friend for him even when he didn’t want one. sometimes you wondered if you actually did love him or if it was just that if he did love you, you would actually feel like you had a place. you’d always conclude that it was the first, just seeing him happy and smile made your heart race as a fast as a rollercoaster. no one else had ever done that to you.

you remembered the one time you had ever lashed out at zuko. you were grieving and he was being selfish. you had always given him the space to talk about his feelings so you expected the same, only, it took you ignoring him for a couple of days for him to finally understand that friendship was a two way street, even when he was banished.

after that, zuko always listened to you when you needed it and spirits did you wish he was there now. you don’t exactly know what you’d tell him but in right now, you craved him just rubbing your back soothingly and letting you air out what was on your mind. those moments weren’t too common but they were precious.

you were ready to just recompose yourself in your room alone but you jumped a bit when you heard someone knock at the door.

“shit.” you mumbled, quickly trying to find somewhere to look at your reflection to wipe the tears and boy was that going to be a problem. your eyes were red, cheeks were puffy and heavily tear stained, and your hair was disheveled from gripping it as you sobbed.

there was nothing you could do but pray that whoever was behind that door was just a guard coming by to tell you something, they never commented on your current appearance as they were used to seeing the firelord in unpleasant circumstances.

you took a deep breath in and went to open the door. you felt your heart stop when you saw your best friend with a huge smile on his face.

“hey y/n, i-" zuko started off his greeting with the cheeriest voice you’d ever heard from him but the tone quickly switched once he registered that you had been crying. “are you okay?”

“yeah zuko, i’m fine.” you lied, fully aware that he could see that you weren’t and the lie was useless, but you couldn’t talk about what was going on with zuko.

“y/n i know you’re lying, you’re my best friend. and you look like you’ve just been crying.” zuko placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb gently from side to side. you sighed and leaned into it, savouring the affectionate moment.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing important.” you mumbled after a couple of seconds were spent in silence, not knowing if this was the time to tell him about the treatment that you’d received from his generals and the love that you had for him.

“you know you can tell me anything, right y/n? i learned that a while ago thanks to you. i come to you for help and advice, and vice versa.” he insisted, removing his hand, much to your dismay. his eyes filled with concern as he wasn’t going to just dismiss your feelings like the last time he’d found you crying.

“i don’t want to talk about it right now, maybe at another time.” you compromised, figuring that in a day or so you could finally come forward about it without breaking down.

“deal.” he smiled, glad that you had accepted his help.

“but you had news to tell me, so don’t let the way i look keep you from telling me.” you returned his smile, changing your tone to one of intrigue at the wonder of what got your friend so excited.

“mai said yes to the trip!” he announced giddily.

“the trip to?” you asked confused, if he had discussed this trip with you, you had completely forgotten.

“the trip where i plan to propose to her! i’m pretty sure i told you about this the other week.” he clarified, slightly confused as to why you didn’t remember as in his memory, he had talked it out with you a couple of weeks prior.

“oh yeah, that trip.” you felt your heart drop, you completely forgot about that, it was the last hope of zuko ever loving you as more than a friend, it was already small to begin with but now it was nonexistent. she would say yes and you’d have to live with the knowledge that you never said anything to him, you’d have to live with and help the new firelady, you’d have to see them rule the nation as you’d just think about your unrequited love.

“we leave the day after tomorrow, do you think she’ll say yes?” the firelord was nervous about a girl, your heart broke a bit knowing that you never had that affect on him but it was to her fault for keeping your feelings to yourself.

“of course she will zuko. the two of you are perfect for each other. you’re handsome, a great friend, you’re always there for your friends, you always want what’s best for everyone, and youre a great ruler. and mai, mai’s just drop dead gorgeous.” you rambled, not realizing that you might have raised his suspicions at your listing of his qualities but all it did was make him more confident, he must’ve only seen your small confession as a planotic one.

“thank you y/n. and when i get back, i’ll find someone for you so we can have double dates!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“yeah zuko, that’d be great.” if only he knew that the only person for you was him. you only gave him a half smile before he turned around to do whatever, leaving you alone in your room with something more to cry about.

if im pretty, will you like me? they say "beauty makes boys happy"

a little while after he left, you went out of your room to go clear your mind next to one of the turtle duck ponds. as you sat down to watch the adorable animals, you saw mai pass down the hallway that opened to the courtyard. she spotted you and waved, not bothering to stop as she probably had somewhere to be. you waved back but it made you realise something.

as you looked at your reflection, you thought of how beautiful mai was and how average you were. you’d never compare to her beauty, meaning zuko would never look at you and think ‘woah’. maybe no one would ever see you as the most gorgeous person in the four nations, all you’d be was someone who let the love of their life live with his life without knowing about your feelings.

maybe it was time to move out of the firepalace, the guards didn’t seem to like you and the comments started to get too much to hide the way it hurt you. you wouldn’t have to watch zuko and mai act all lovey dovey. youd finally move on from your life where your whole worth was based around the banished prince turned firelord. maybe you’d find love with someone who saw you as their whole world just like zuko did with mai.

maybe your life would be better.

atla taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis @firelady-jay

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

#atla x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko #atla zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender x reader #gaang x reader #firelord zuko #zuko x you #fire lord zuko #firelord zuko x reader

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zwiezraczek · 5 years ago

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6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 6

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 6: Eight’s Feelings

Sasha shares her thoughts and somehow finds comfort in a friend.

WORDS: 2.3k

TAGLIST (if you want to be part of it, leave a comment! ^^) : @kingniazx @imjustboredso @pandamanda99 @mustbeaweasleyginger @cooliosmosh @lillymitl @boomtownboy @jinxfirebolt18902 @cupidben

Sasha looked up at the sky, the day was intense. The late afternoon sun bathed her skin as she sat on the edge of the backrest of the bench the three of them were on. Seven was smoking his third cigarette by the time, and its smoke spread around her, perfuming her hair that she had let out of the shawl earlier. How uncomfortable she felt in that flowery dress. She regretted not changing her outfit before the coming of the guys to be totally at ease, but now it was too late and she had no intention to go up and to listen to One rambling and screaming – as she did in the car, while driving.

“Is One always such a pain in the ass when you're going on missions,” she finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence they were in for about ten minutes now.

“He's even worse than that,” Four snapped before Seven could actually answer, which made him laugh and cough at the same time. “Let's be real mate, he's absolutely a pain in the ass!”

“I can only agree,” Seven commented, after this coughing moment. “I heard about Florence, your first mini-mission,” Seven said and Four simply nodded, “and I was here after Hong Kong... Yeah, he's absolutely a pain in the ass.”

“Great to know,” Sasha sighed, throwing her head back in annoyance. “He's always so 'leave them alone, they'll be fine' too?” This question burned her lips since the moment he told her to not worry about Four, about a teammate. Her new family. And family is to be protected. Especially when this family is the only link to the living world.

“Left me behind two times, once he came to rescue me,” Four whispered, looking down on his feet on the bench. Sasha could hear sadness in his voice, and she looked at him for longer than intended. Seven threw his cigarette in the sand. “Wanker...”

“Buddy, you remember Hong Kong,” Seven asked before putting his hand on Four's shoulder and Four's puppy eyes rose to look at him. “The boat in the last deadly mission? The desert situation? The infiltration? This morning?”

“Always you,” Four snapped, and she felt hurt. So he didn't even notice that she wanted to put a bullet into One's head. And then it struck her. 'Again'. This was what Seven said to her, 'we won't leave him again'. Sasha remembered how mad she felt in that moment, how her blood boiled for somebody wanting to let one of their teammates behind, how it pissed her off. “No offense,” Four said looking at her before turning back to Seven, “but nobody seemed to care this morning. Fuck me if I'm wrong but...”

“I did,” Sasha interrupted him abruptly. She looked into his eyes with her pale blue ones, and she couldn't seize the emotion in them. Confusion? Gratefulness? Happiness?

“She told Five that if One tells another time that he leaves you behind she'd kill him,” Seven completed and Four seemed absolutely lost. He had lost contact with all of them after the explosion, and he knew that only Seven would look after him during the mission – dragging Three with him. But he never expected Eight to be on his side. But he should have. “That was a power move, girl,” he commented, presenting her his fist to bump it and she gladly did it.

“Nice to know that others care,” Four whispered, ashamed of his assumption about her. She looked back at him, her hand on his shoulder now, and she smiled.

“People do care,” Eight assured, with a comforting smile on her face. “We're not bloody murderers.”

“Three was,” Seven jokingly commented and Sasha just rolled her eyes before looking at him.

“You're ruining the comforting emotional moment now, Seven,” she complained with a chuckle before taking her hand off Four's shoulder and joining her hands.

“My friend, often told me so,” Seven said, a faint smile on his face before looking at her, eyes lighted up. “You heard the story about my friend who cried his eyes out during my funeral and made a full show so One couldn't stand it and made me leave my own funeral?”

“He what,” Sasha repeated, amused by the description of his friend but mostly for One's annoyance.

“This story never fails to make me laugh,” Four said and straightened his back.

“So basically, the guy cried when he watched the Barbie Swan Lake when we were little, no joke,” Seven began with enthusiasm. And for a second, Sasha spaced out.

Ballet. Ballerinas. She missed dancing sometimes. Whenever the subject was brought up, she could feel her whole body tense. She remembered every move she once made, every feeling she had, her mother's eyes too. Sasha tried to focus on Seven's words, but the more she wanted to forget, the more her brain tried to remember. Not too attentively, she listened to Seven's story, smiled and tried to hide the best she could her sad expression.

How she wished to be fifteen again, and to feel her mother's hand on her shoulder.

“You're alright Eight?” Four's voice brought her back to the world of the living, not letting her fully drift away.

“Yes, yes,” she quickly replied, with a little smile. “I spaced out for a moment, nothing to worry about.”

“Still the mission on your mind,” Seven asked, his hand reaching for another cigarette.

“Yeah and... Ballet,” she finally admitted. The words hurt as they came out of her throat. She couldn't believe that she brought this subject herself.

“People tend to block on that part, believe me, Four also did,” Seven said mockingly as Four just slap his back in response which made Seven laugh even more.

“Well, I used to do ballet.” Here she was, sharing her life with these people. This was the fault of the French sunset, its orange colors and the breeze caressing her cheeks.

“Like, ballet ballet,” Four asked, and Sasha rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, you know, the parkour but you do all in ballet shoes and you bleed and basically you know, nothing too heavy,” she replied with a smirk before Seven picked up on that.

“This explains a lot about you,” and she looked at him, a little bit confused, “you are disciplined and reckless, and you look angelic.” This was literally the first time somebody associated what she did with discipline first, and not being fragile. Not being someone to take care of, but someone who could take care of themselves, someone who was reckless.

“The perfect combo to become a good driver,” she laughed, not being able to hide how happy she was about Seven not judging her fragile.

“The perfect combo to become a good person,” Four added, and Sasha just looked at him, struck by what he just said. This was sweet and kind. His eyes were shining, he was probably grateful and she smiled, thankful.

~~~

Sasha spent the night talking with Five, both of them venting about One – who clearly felt better now – and his mood swings that both of them had to experience during that day. Laying one next to the other, they exchanged bed secrets just like the ladies did a long time ago. Sasha spoke about her mother even more than usual, mentioning how Seven talked about ballet today and how it brought back some memories to her.

How vivid her mother's expression was. How vivid her mother's eyes were in front of hers. How painful it was to feel this way again, as she was so far from home, far from where her heart stayed. She hid her mouth under the blankets, as Five looked at her with a tender smile. Sasha had found somebody who would listen to her, somebody she could listen to, somebody she wouldn't be ashamed to tell what she felt. Five became her friend. And she would never exchange this soul sister for anything in the world. She smiled as she looked at her, and Five giggled as she snuggled against hair. Amelia. Her name was Amelia. This was what One never wanted, but they became like sister in so little time, able to kill one for the other, protecting one another, living and dying for each other. Just like with Marta; but here, she could only rely on Amelia and that was everything she needed now.

~~~

“Eastern Europe, prostitution, kidnapping and killing,” One began to say as Sasha crossed her arms on her chest looking at him, she almost rolled her eyes.

“You're making a podcast for a lame tv channel,” Four commented, sitting on the table of their headquarters – as One wanted them to call the room in which they had everything for their work.

“Millenial, don't you interrupt the...”

“Boomer,” Sasha asked, and One gave her a death glare which made Two chuckle and Amelia just sat there, trying to not laugh too much.

“Will do as if millenials weren't trying to sabotage my plan,” One commented before looking back at the screen and clicking on it to show them the picture of a woman: Mila Babicheva.

Target number two. She was the government, the puppet master and a killer queen with gunpowder and amphetamine. Sasha had heard about her back then, when Piotr spoke about a new deal with the Russian mafia, but she never really paid attention to it and eventually Piotr seemed to let the idea go. And now, she heard about her crimes – or she truly acknowledged them, because before joining the savior crew, she had no real problem knowing that people killed people because of interest, no, but then she saw the sad truth One presented during his powerpoint presentation. She saw the girls being saved by some policemen, the ones kidnapped to work in nice neon pink houses without having the chance to see the light again, she saw the poverty the government made, she saw the pain in people's eyes. She saw whatever she refused to see because of her hate for her father. She saw what she was once part of and she was ashamed. Her mother would be ashamed.

So she joined the Ghosts. And now had to listen to One, in the desert they came back in after their mission in Paris and the information Two and Three managed to collect with the usb key. The Lady in Rouge, she seemed to like French. She owned everything from the air the people breathed to the vodka they drank – Four found that cliché, but totally accurate. Her puppets were docile, and everybody seemed do love and respect her – just like you love the person who can kill you with a snap of a finger. And there was the plan: infiltration of the said mafia. Not a big deal, not until One revealed who he wanted to be the infiltrates.

“So who you're sending for the local mafia queen,” Seven asked, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at Sasha and at One one after the other.

“National nationalist mafia queen,” One quickly corrected before changing the slides, “besides we can't do this Murat style because she has a strong fanbase...”

“Did he just used the word fanbase,” Four asked, looking at Sasha who just rose her shoulders.

“So I'm sending Two,” he continued and Two shook her golden hair in agreement.

“Nice, always dreamed about being a Slav girl,” she said with a smirk and Three winked at her.

“Trial by fire, Eight you're going in.” Sasha fluttered her eyelashes in astonishment. What had he in mind by sending her back to the mafia which was so close to her home country? She looked at Amelia, slightly confused but when she gave her a reassuring smile, she relaxed a bit.

“Nice to be back in the business,” she commented before looking closely at the picture of the woman with red hair.

“Four you're enrolled too,” One continued, throwing at Four a beanie he had next to him for no apparent reason – probably because Four stopped listening. “You'll be the fool card, the free man, blah blah,” One continued gesturing at him.

“Wanker,” Four commented under his breath.

“Three, Five and Seven – odd numbers – are staying here with me. Not to be touchy or whatever but you guys are too... Exotic.” Five arched an eyebrow, staring at him.

“Exotic,” she repeated.

“That sounds racist,” Seven added.

“Some Eastern people tend to be racist,” Sasha replied, not too proudly and Four slightly nodded in agreement. “A loud minority, skinheads we call them and usually they have close ties with the mafia.” She looked at Five with a caring look, what horrible things mafia could have done to her if she was in. “Besides, with Four we know more or less the Slav area, we'll just need to give the memo to Two.”

“Perfect,” she said, detangling her blonde hair with her fingers as Three put a hand on her shoulder.

“So, now we have a plan,” One concluded. “But, for the moment we need more information about the whole thing, how to introduce you to the mafia, to build your personas...”

“Count on me, papi,” Three said with a large smile on his lips. This guy had some ideas.

#ben hardy #four x oc #four!ben #four billy #four ben hardy #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground #ben hardy imagine #fanfiction

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julia19945-blog · 5 years ago

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My transgender story > Julia Irish trans girl

My story......

My name is Julia, I am from Derry, I am currently 26 years old. My parents were born in Ireland. I wasn't born the person I am today the doctor said it was a boy. As I grew up from as far as I remember, I’ve always felt different, I felt like I was the black sheep of the family I felt that there was something wrong with me. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was but didn't feel entirely like a boy. For instance, as a young child I was socially, being told boys play football and girls play with dolls, I was thinking why I can’t wear pink and play with dolls. I was dressing at my earliest memories in girls’ things, secretly using mum or sisters, make up or shoes and clothes, I wanted to be barbie not ken. I never told anyone how I felt, I never told anyone anything relating to what I was thinking and how different I felt. So I went on the internet and typed in "boys feel like girls" and the results that came up was "transgender" which is the terminology for trans women and trans men and nonbinary people and so on, I felt like this was relating to my identity as transgender women. Television, for instance portrayed trans people as a joke, a punch line. When growing up in m teens it was never spoke about in TV or media in a nice way , but as the years went on so many more positive icons such as celebrities came forward who were trans such as a favourite of mine is Laverne Cox from Orange is the New black. So, when I found the transgender community online this was a relief to me.

I felt like I wasn't alone anymore. I felt like that I could relate to people who were going through the same thing and you know for the first time I felt like I belonged. I am on hormones for about a year, and my mother and family are transitioning with me in the aspect of acceptance and understanding in such factors such as name change and pronouns and losing a son and gaining daughter. In my early days of my transition while trying to explore my identity I struggled with finding my true self, fell into bad habits as many know how easy it can be to turn to the party scene in our community. Got myself into horrible circumstances such as assault. In the last year something horrible happened I was sexually assaulted and took me to very bad place mentally was like a step bad from me, but I am here and fighting and not giving up!

When I look back, I wish I knew then that there were organisations out there to educate and to help overcome issues with my transition such as depression, low-self-esteem and general vulnerability associated with my transition. The reason I am happy with my life at this moment is because of the support networks I have made contact with, friends I have made and the love and I knew I didn't belong in this shell for years this annoyed me and all I could ever think was "I AM A GIRL , HOW CAN I GET OUT OF THIS BODY", So when I finally came out as Transgender , I had some form of support. I know for many people this isn't the case and coming out can lead to more emotional turmoil.

Throughout my life as a 'transgender women' what I’ve experienced so far, has been both good and bad, it's not just being transgender that I must deal with. It's also waking up in the morning feeling like I am suffocating inside a body that doesn't belong to me. It's being told by doctors 'your number 48 on the waiting list'. I'm depressed and being ATTACKED in my local town centre of Derry and even getting things thrown at me or names shouted or sometimes even being spit on when in reality if 'I just got the transition over and done with I know this would have a positive impact on my mental health and the only reason, I am depressed is because of the hate and the length of time I have to wait'.

I'm thankful for the NHS and the fact we have this in our country and doctors and professionals who have helped me and so many people in my position, but I do think with the circumstances within Northern Ireland it is a lot longer than the rest of the United Kingdom. With no functioning government the NHS and gender Identity Clinic is majorly affected, and this can cause people to have more mental and physical issue as they have with me.

I will wait, I will transition, and I will ignore any negative transphobic comments that come my way, I'm sharing this to raise awareness for younger teenagers and children and possibly adults who are in the same position as me. DON'T GIVE UP, as much this is so easy to do, we must remind ourselves to carry on as we will get there.

I wish I knew it was okay to be trans. I've always been a woman just before my body didn't match and each step towards my final goal is rewarding.

People like me, we go through quite a lot, and we could use friends and more allies.

Julia brown

#transgender #mystory #please share #enjoyeverymoment

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Two Girls Kissing (Shalaska/Group-Fic) - Ashley

A/N: Hi I haven’t posted in ages but here’s something I wrote last year that I thought people could like. Please give me some feedback! This is based on the novel Two Boys Kissing. Sharon and Alaska are trying to break the world record for world’s longest kiss whilst the lives of Trixie, Katya, Courtney, Willam, Jinkx and Roxxxy all intertwine in separate ways. In this story we find out the true power of two girls kissing. Features some smut and angst.

Alaska was ready. Yes, her heart was pounding and her hands were sweating and her nerves were shaking but she was ready. Weeks of preparation had led to this moment and as she looked into Sharon’s eyes – the eyes that understood Alaska completely just with one glace – she was more certain than ever before that this is what they were meant to be doing.

The crowd counted down and Sharon quickly pulled a stray hair from Alaska’s face. Her touch was gentle and loving, she had grown immensely from the girl who Alaska had dated, from the wild Sharon who only cared about being the best. When they broke up they decided they were too different, but in reality, they were too alike. It is often a thing in same-sex relationships that couples challenge each other, they get jealous and insecure and what was once a roaring flame becomes a dark cloud of ash – the wanting to impress each other becomes wanting to better each other, and the happy moments are no more. This is what happened to Sharon and Alaska.

Yet here they were. 9 AM. Two girls, two exes, stood in front of their schools green ready to kiss for the whole world to see. Ready to kiss for 24 hours. Ready to make their statement to the people of their town that if enough people were exposed to two girls kissing, the world could be changed and records could be broken. The kiss was Alaska’s idea after what had happened to one of their dearest friends at her own school, she knew the second it popped into her head that she couldn’t last 24 hours kissing anyone other than Sharon, so she asked her ex and was surprised by her agreement. Days of planning: making websites, creating signals for food drink and other needs, making sure people knew about the kiss – all boiled down to right now.

“3,” the crowd cheered. Sharon took a deep breath. Any drug or alcohol had never given her the same rush as being with Alaska did. She knew this kiss was bad for her. She would have 24 hours of relapse before being once again starved of what she loved. But it was worth it, she needed to show that she had grown: for Alaska, for Jinkx, for the tormentors, for anyone girl who felt the urge to kiss another girl.

“2,” Alaska grinned. The closest they had got to the world record of 23 hours and 58 minutes was 12 hours, just half of a day, but she knew that once her lips touched Sharon’s, they would not part until the time was over.

“1,” their mouths circled one another. A sense of déjà vu washed over the minds of the two girls, and as they looked each other in the eye and held each other, they both knew the other was recognising the familiarity. Their kiss was warm and cold at the same time. It was rekindling, like the match between them was finally relight and they could dance again like they had longed to for so long. For Sharon, Alaska was stable, Alaska was her home. Alaska had sometimes felt like the only person who understood her in the world was Sharon, and when they kissed like this, with passion, with energy, with longing, with endurance, with adrenaline, with hunger, Alaska felt like something inside them linked. The paths that their two lives would take were forever intertwined because of the many hours they had spent like this, kissing.

***

A tear pricked in Jinkx’s eye as she watched her two friends kissing in awe. A circle of watchers had formed around the ex-couple and Jinkx was in the front row, relishing in every moment. She hadn’t cried since it happened: when most people were scarred like she was, they felt a wild abundance of emotion, drowning in their own feelings, but Jinkx hadn’t been able to feel anything. So this was not a tear of sadness, this was a tear of joy and happiness because people loved her enough to help prove that she belonged, that other girls like her belonged. The feelings of hurt she suppressed were now ones of pride. If what happened on Wednesday were to ever happen again, Jinkx knew that now she would let it roll off her back because she knew now that she was loved.

***

“You love him, don’t you?” Willam asked her childhood best friend. Sometimes it felt like she knew Courtney better than she knew herself. However, being completely anti-soppiness, Willam never showed these feelings quite as much as she should.

“I think so, I mean, does that matter?” Courtney’s voice wavered with uncertainty, Willam knew she was worried. “You’ve never been in love and you’ve done it enough.”

“Bitch!” Willam gasped smacking her friend on the hand playfully. “It’s just fun, you don’t need to be worried Court, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“That’s okay for you,” Courtney whined how she usually did. If she wasn’t so beautiful Willam would have probably gotten sick of this a long time ago. Probably. “You’re sexy and stuff. I’m…not.”

“Says miss barbie!” Willam laughed. Her laugh was loud and crazy and weird and generally outlandish. Courtney loved it. Sometimes she thought of how lucky she was. Out of all the party girls and cool stoners, she was the one who Willam had picked to be a best friend. Hearing Willam compliment her was something different from any other compliment in the world – it was like someone had travelled all the across the galaxy and pulled the sun from the sky just for her. Like someone had charged into a battle for her. She often struggled to find the words to describe how Willam’s words made her feel, but she beamed nonetheless. Their friendship had always just been something more that she couldn’t put a finger on, they were bonded by something she failed to explain. Once in geography she learnt about how all the countries used to be connected and slot into each other like pieces of a puzzle, and now despite being miles apart they still kept their shape and were connected by masses and masses of water, no distance ever changing them – she thought this summed up her relationship with Willam. Only once describing this to her best friend, all she got in response as: “Wait, do we have a test?”.

“I’m being serious,” Courtney pouted, “I don’t know what to do. How to act. I’m not sexy.”

“I can show you,” Willam said casually, as if she were only making small talk about homework or the weather.

“What?” Courtney exclaimed with shock, her voice raising higher - her accent slipping from her tongue thickly.

“I can teach you how to have sex, etc. I mean Tom won’t have a vagina like me but being good isn’t really about what you physically do: it’s about emotion, passion, auras, and vibes. Loads of friends do stuff like this to help each other out, I’ve read about it before, it’ll be fun.”

Courtney was stunned. She’d never thought about doing anything with anyone besides Tom; never mind a girl, never mind her best friend.

No, she thought, but when she looked up at Willam, that was not the word that slipped from her mouth.

“Yes.”

“Cool, come round mine tonight then, around 9?” Willam smiled, before hopping off Courtney’s bed and leaving the room how she always did, with a kick in her stride and a bounce in her hair as if she were floating on pure air.

***

Katya walked like something stronger than gravity was pulling her to the ground. Something was in fact, her sheer lack of confidence. She turned around to return home at least three times before dragging herself back in the direction of the coffee shop. Everyone around was staring at her. They rolled their eyes at her awkwardness, they scoffed in her direction: “what a weirdo”. Except they weren’t really. This was just the voice in her head making her feel like she wasn’t good enough. But still, she made it to the store without having a panic attack.

When Katya first entered her teen years, things were dark. She took drugs, she partied, she drank, she almost wasted her life away just to escape the times of angst and stress, when in reality the drink and the drugs only made it worse. She accepted that she was gay, she accepted the stigmatisms associated with the previous fact. Yes, “times were changing,” but girls kissing was still seen as something illicit and a straight boys fantasy, she was often told, “but you don’t look like a lesbian”. But still, she powered on and threw away her life of partying. Why try to wash away something that is such a thriving part of you only for the sake of other people’s opinions. Where she used to spend every day miserable and self-conscious, now it was only rare occasions that made her long for the ground to open and swallow her. Rare occasions like dates.

Even on dating apps, Katya struggled to find a connection. People only wanted sex or tried to enclose others into boxes. It was hard to find someone who’s humour clicked with her own – until she did. And a date with someone she was falling for was so much more nerve-wracking than one she didn’t care for at all. Trixie was quick, clever, beautiful, and funny. She was a list of adjectives that Katya didn’t even know. She was a thesaurus with all the negative words torn away. She was a joke book of bad puns that made Katya laugh till she wheezed. She was an encyclopaedia of all things crazy and cute. She was everything. But as Katya walked through the door and saw her sitting there, her pink hair curled to perfection, her figure a never-ending hourglass, Katya realised one thing that she hadn’t earlier: Trixie was real.

Raising her head high and channelling her confident self, Katya made her way to the table, her eyes unable to tear away from Trixie.

“Hey,” Trixie giggled when Katya sat down.

Katya was so mesmerised with the girl she had waited so long to meet that forming a perfect sentence had become the most difficult challenge in the world. She cursed herself for just sitting like a bottle of milk, eventually coming up with something to say: “Hi. I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you.”

Trixie pulled a weird face as if Katya was speaking another language entirely. That’s when she realised that she had.

“Fuck. I said that in Russian.” Katya croaked, laughing ridiculously at her own awkwardness, letting her nerves seep away at the sound of Trixie’s laughter too. So there they sat, the two of them laughing till their lungs struggled for air, grinning brightly into each other’s eyes. Both Katya and Trixie had never experienced a moment so perfect.

***

Roxxxy had always tried to be her own definition of perfect. She strived to look beautiful and do well in school, the fear of her grandmother’s disappointment constantly looming over her shoulder. She knew that she could be thrown out as easily as she was taken in. She was the captain of the cheer team, spoke two languages and could turn any scrap of fabric into something high fashion. She was well-rounded and gorgeous – but this didn’t stop the hate she felt for who she really was.

Maybe that’s why she took it out on Jinkx. Because she hated herself and wanted someone else to feel the same pain. OR maybe it was because she saw someone who was confident with who she was, who could laugh at her own misfortunes and mishaps, maybe she was jealous. Maybe she wanted to seem popular. Maybe she wanted to hide who she really was the best way she could. Maybe it was because of the dream she’d had that night, the dream about Jinkx, the dream that showed her how much power Jinkx really held over her. She knew that at the flick of a wrist, she could be under the other girls spell. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above. But still, she couldn’t form the words to explain to Jinkx why she did it, let alone how sorry she was.

Jinkx only lived a few houses down from Roxxxy. She figured that she would post the letter through her door before leaving for good. She’d move to a new town far away from here, to a place where no one encouraged her sinner’s thoughts, a town far away from Jinkx. By the end of today, she would be gone. Not only was she running away from the feelings of lust inside of her, but also the ones of guilt. Because since last week the Jinkx she saw in her sleep was now one of the nightmares, the horror and upset of her crying face played on a loop as Roxxxy kicked her to the ground. She saw herself muttering the horrible words, the disgusting words over and over again. If she left then hopefully a part of this would leave too.

***

They had been kissing for 6 hours now, a whole quarter of their time complete. Alaska’s legs had already seized up into a cramp and her mouth ached for water despite the special straw trick Jinkx had come up with which helped them drink without separating their mouths. Every time her mind or body almost slipped away, Sharon was there, a firm reassuring hand on her back. Heat was radiating from the two of them being so close, sweat built on Alaska’s hands but Sharon didn’t care. Kissing Alaska only reminded her even more of all she had given up. The memories of their breakup haunting her mind:

It was late December; the party was roaring and Sharon didn’t know where her girlfriend was. But she also didn’t care. She didn’t know if it was the hurt or the alcohol but something compelled her to start kissing the girl in front of her. She didn’t even know her name, but that didn’t matter. She was small with brown hair and tanned skin, the utter antithesis of her girlfriend. Sharon felt hunger and longing as she kissed the girl, willing to feel something, anything. She couldn’t. So she tried harder, rubbing her hands through the stranger’s hair, grabbing her ass and pulling her on top to straddle. She was so caught up in the moment that she almost didn’t notice Alaska enter the room, neverminded stop in her tracks and let out a strangled cry.

She pulled away and looked at her girlfriend in her eyes. In reality, this is what she had wanted, for Alaska to see what she was doing and to feel the same pain, only when she looked at the tears that welled in her girlfriend’s eyes, she only felt a great sinking ship of regret.

Sharon didn’t know when the girl left, but she must have. It was just the two of them alone together. Except this time it as different.

“How could you?” Alaska wept, running her hands through her hair and tearing off her jewellery the way she often did when stressed.

“You did it first,” Sharon whispered, not even believing her own excuse.

“I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t kiss someone else!” Alaska defended herself, pacing around the room in circles.

“You did cheat on me. Just emotionally. It’s the same thing, Alaska. The same pain. Imagine finding out your girlfriend spent all day and night messaging some rando online. Sending cringey texts and laughing at all of their jokes. Imagine if I had told someone that they “make me so happy,” when I had you.”

“I didn’t kiss her, I would never do that to you. I fucking love you. And what else was I meant to do, you barely glance at me nowadays, it was nice to have the attention.”

“I’m sorry for having a life Alaska, I’m sorry I don’t need you every second of the day anymore. Sorry, I don’t want to be attached at the hip with you. And who cares if I kissed that girl. It’s no worse than what you did, admit it. Anyway, it was only a kiss, only physical, not emotional.” Sharon released the built-up anger from inside of her. She knew that this wasn’t entirely true, she knew the true meaning of a kiss and how much this would hurt Alaska. Alaska had never kissed anyone the way she had kissed Sharon. To Alaska, a kiss was so much more than just something physical, it showed a connection, a spark when they kissed they were making a statement to everyone else that they belonged to each other, always. And Sharon knew that Alaska felt this way, that was why her betrayal hit so hard.

“Well, clearly you don’t need me at all if that’s how you feel.” Alaska sobbed, before storming out of the room and the whole party entirely, leaving Sharon alone on the bed. She didn’t move for what seemed like forever, becoming a dark bundle of shivers in a cold, lonely room.

They had come far since their breakup. Sharon had grown and so had Alaska. They learnt to put each other’s needs before their own, but still despite their claims of friendship, they both still harboured inexplicable love for each other deep down. This was why Sharon had agreed to the kiss because she knew how much it meant to Alaska. If she kissed her here with the love she felt rather than the hate she had when they broke up, she could prove to her ex that their breakup was a mistake and that the only person she wanted to kiss in the whole world was Alaska.

Jinkx was still sat in the same place, watching her friends speak out against homophobia and lesbian stereotypes to everyone around. Her heart fluttered every time they received a positive comment on their live stream, she would reply instantly with love and updates about the day. Now that a quarter of the time had passed, they had gained a lot more attraction than before. A huge crowd watched the girls with cheers and posters, every supporter making the impact even stronger. Yes, there were passers-by who scoffed dirty looks and disapproving adults, but they only reinforced why this was the right thing to do, their cruel remarks helping the girls to carry on and show the world that two girls kissing should be a social norm. Jinkx made sure to reply to hate comments with love as well, rather than losing her temper at the ignorant people, she told them that she hoped they would soon realise the error in their outlooks and wished them well on that way – making sure never to stoop to their own level. The viewers were now at 250,000 – their post being shared by lesbian power couple, Pearl Liaison and Violet Chachki, bringing in all kinds of exposure from the fashion world as well as some of her favourite music stars – showing the full impact that Sharon and Alaska were having on the world around them. Jinkx realised that this was most possibly the proudest she had ever felt.

***

“I think that was most possibly the-“

“Worst film you’ve ever seen in your life!” Trixie interrupted Katya, laughing as the two of them left the movie theatre hand in hand.

Alaska gasped at the other girl’s response. “Bitch, no! I was going to say the best.”

“You’re actually crazy. Not only did she meet her dead father on a beach. But he was also a freaking alien.”

“That was the best part,” Katya exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air with emphasis, flashing her white smile at Trixie.

“I keep interrupting you, I’m sorry. I think it’s a nervous thing.” Trixie looked at Katya apologetically as they still walked hand in hand.

“It’s fine. Great actually, I love hearing you talk. And if you didn’t I’d just wander off talking about nonsense like crisis control or latex frog costumes.”

Before choking slightly on her laughter, Trixie responded: “Where do you wanna go next?”

“Oh, I know the perfect place!” Katya responded excitedly fanning her arms in the air.

It only took a few blocks of Katya grinning proudly and Trixie begging her to reveal where they were going before they arrived at Ru’s Music Bar.

“Why are we here?” Trixie looked at the place then back at her date.

“It has an open mic.”

“Oh, no!” Trixie responded remembering her previous conversations with Katya over their phones. She’d forgotten all about how she told Katya about her dream of playing guitar and singing to an audience rather than just her family. Trixie opened up about how nervous she was and the kick in the ass she needed, and Katya’s plan was to be that kick in the ass.

“Oh, yes!” Katya practically kicked the door open, dragging her date inside with her and writing Trixie’s name on the next performance slot, which was in only 10 minutes.

Nerves sprinted through Trixie’s body as she waited in the audience.

“I’m not ready, I’m not prepared!” She exclaimed. Katya grabbed her hand reassuringly and gripped, tight.

“Just pretend it’s only me that you’re singing to,” Katya replied, looking into Trixie’s eyes.

“That’s even more nerve-wracking,” Trixie laughed to her date, feeling a familiar connection between them that felt like they’d know each other for life. Trixie realised then that no matter what she did in front of Katya, she wouldn’t be judged.

So she mounted the stage and performed. At first, she felt nervous, but the second she saw Katya’s smile beaming towards her, all doubt was shaken. She sang like it was the last night of the world, strumming the chords she had spent hours practicing. She was enveloped by the music, her chin jutting at every beat. Katya found herself transfixed by Trixie’s music, or simply Trixie in general; she couldn’t help but grin at the girl she was so obsessed with.

Once Trixie finished, the whole room went wild screaming for her, but she only heard one cheer.

***

8 hours. Alaska had been kissing Sharon for 8 hours. Only one-third of the way through yet she felt fainter than ever. The only thing keeping her going was Sharon’s reassuring hand placed firmly on her back. Reminding her of their very first kiss, Alaska felt Sharon tracing words with her finger on Alaska’s body. “Y-O-U / C-A-N / D-O / I-T”. The writing reminded her of their very first kiss:

There the two girls sat, on a bench, in a park, the wind was bitter and the sky was dark but they didn’t seem to care or even notice. Alaska’s phone had pinged three times yet she ignored it because responding to her texts would mean moving away from Sharon, and nothing made her happier than the way their bodies fit together perfectly. They were a perfect lock and key, hands intertwined, legs crossed. So many nights they had sat like this, together, and all Alaska wanted to do was press her lips onto Sharon’s, but the fear of rejection riddled her thoughts each moment. Silently she grabbed Sharon’s hand and traced her desires on the inside of her palm. “K-I-S-S / M-E”. The second she finished Sharon looked up to Alaska, looking into her innocent doe eyes. Alaska traced more: “P-L-E-A-S-E / X-O-X-O”.

“I’m dyslexic,” Sharon pointed to their hands, causing a hearty giggle to escape Alaska’s throat. “No seriously, what did it say?”

“Nothing,” Alaska whispered.

And she didn’t know if Sharon had worked out what it said, or whether she just felt the same but either way she leaned over and brushed a hair from Alaska’s face then kissed her. She kissed her gently with affection and hope. Sharon pulled away slowly, placing her hands on Alaska’s cheeks, pressing their foreheads together.

“Finally,” Alaska grinned. So Sharon grinned too. And there they sat, two girls, two grinning idiots, on a park bench in the middle of winter, feelings of love starting to sprout and linger in the air around them.

Her mind flicking back to the present reality, Alaska was grateful for her lack of fake nail as she traced a response on her ex’s back: “T-H-A-N-K / Y-O-U.” She was saying thank you for it all, for the kiss years ago, for the kiss now, for the moments of happiness and even the ones of sadness because without them she wouldn’t have grown, thank you for letting her be herself in a world where so many wouldn’t have let her. She could feel Sharon start to smile into their kiss, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, and in that moment, Alaska realised that no matter what pain dwelled on her body, she would carry on kissing for the next 16 hours.

***

Courtney was never late. Until now. It was 9:32 and she had been stood on Willam’s porch since precisely 8:58. She knew it was just fun and nothing more, but the nerves still grew inside of her for the night they’d planned. She knew they were just friends having sex, yet deep down maybe the “just friends” part was scaring her more than the ��having sex” part. Eventually, she walked to the door and put her hand on the knob. She had always just walked in, but somehow now she felt the need to knock.

Before she could decide which one to go through with, the door opened anyway, giving her a shock.

“How long have you been stood there for? You weirdo,” Willam scoffed at her best friend, pulling her into the house before she had a chance to answer.

Quickly, Willam handed Courtney a drink, matching it with her own. Sooner or later the sips spilled into gulps and the glasses turned into bowls.

Tipsy on alcohol and nerves, Courtney’s hand wavered – splashing the liquid onto her friend’s shirt. Where normally she would rush to give her a towel, Courtney was unsure of what to do. However, it must be noted that her first thought was ripping the shirt straight from Willam’s body, and diving on top of her. If desire was a crime then Courtney would be handcuffed immediately.

“Do you really want to do this?” Willam asked her with a deep gaze, and Courtney flashed back to the first time they discussed their plan, the answer of “no” pounding through her self-consciousness yet the word “yes” pouring from every inch of her body.

“You see Court, the key to everything is teasing. Building that tension,” Willam whispered, placing her smooth hand on top of Courtney’s guiding it towards her chest.

She didn’t know what it was, but something about the feel of Willam’s perky, soft breasts under the thin lining of her shirt turned her wild. Her inhibitions were gone. The dominant side that had never showed leaped out of her from the edge. Courtney knew what she wanted and nothing would stop her from getting it.

Ripping the bobble out of her hair so fiercely it snapped, Courtney pushed the other girl back onto the sofa, leaving Willam with a shocked grin plastered to her face. Tearing away Willam’s shirt, Courtney admired the display below her.

“Shut your eyes,” she commanded, and her usually bossy friend had no hesitation in complying.

Willam could feel Courtney’s hot breath trace up and down her chest until her full lips reached Willam’s nipples and dived. Sensations rippled from her head to her toes as she felt Court’s tongue swipe back and forth between her hard exposures. She bit back a moan at the feeling of her friend sucking on her, her back arching with pleasure and torment. While her tongue flicked around Willam’s chest, Courtney rucked up the other girl’s skirt, running a hand along her smooth sensitive thighs. As she remembered all of their prior confessions and secrets as best friends, Courtney knew just how to make her friend tick. Her hand travelled further up her thigh, sweeping over Willam’s wet underwear ever-so slightly. Suddenly Willam reached for Courtney, pulling her skirt off completely, hungry for her best friend’s love.

“Did I say you could touch me?” Courtney snapped, her accent suddenly sounding like nothing but sex to Willam. Once again remembering Willam’s tip about teasing and dominance, she spoke again, “I’m going to have to reprimand you now.”

Courtney spun her friend over, stripping her until she was wearing nothing and smacked. Once. Twice. A third time. Until Willam was begging for Courtney to fuck her.

And so she did, all night long. One night of two girls together, laughing, loving, taunting, kissing.

. ***

Katya was scared. Where normally she slept in bed until noon, here she was waiting by the phone for Trixie to call. Yes, Trixie messaged every morning, but this morning was different because she’d finally met Trixie, yet there were no hugs or kisses and now she feared that Trixie saw her as only a friend.

At 8:25 she built up the courage to do what she had never done before; she called first.

“Hey,” Trixie answered straight away, she had not been asleep.

“Hey,” Katya said back, albeit grumpily.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie sensed the upset in Katya’s tone. “Did you not have a nice time yesterday, I-I-“

“I like you! I like really like you!” Katya cried, because no other words would come out.

“You do?” Trixie sounded surprised.

“Yes. But I understand that you just see us as friends so I guess we won’t be going out again.”

“No,” Trixie laughed, “I like really like you too!”

“You do,” Katya beamed from her bed, “But you didn’t kiss me!”

“You didn’t kiss me either,” Trixie started laughing, realising that both of the girls were having the exact same anxiety.

“So you like me?” Katya grinned again – which Trixie knew even though they were only speaking through mobile.

“Yes!”

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Katya laughed.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Thank you,” Katya laughed, “When?”

Trixie suddenly shot out of bed, ran downstairs and shoved her old cowboy boots on, “Now.”

“Now?” Katya shrieked, but Trixie had already hung up, so she did what any normal girl would do and watched for her love by the window, ready for what was going to be the best kiss of her life.

***

“I wasn’t sure before; I always kind of wondered if we were something more but I don’t think we are Court, I think we’re just friends.” Willam whispered the next morning as the two of them lay in her bed.

“Thank god,” Courtney laughed, “I loved that, I mean I LOVED that, but I love you as my best friend.”

“Me too,” Willam smiled.

“I’m glad you were my first. I don’t think I can be with Tom though. You never know, I might try more with girls, just not you.”

Although Willam wondered deep down how amazing it would have been if that night of kissing revealed that she and Courtney were in love, she knew she couldn’t love her friend as more than a friend, yet nothing made her happier in the world.

“Do you wanna watch Heathers?” Courtney asked, and suddenly they were back where they always used to be. Just because two girls like kissing other girls, doesn’t mean they have to be kissing each other.

***

Tears brimmed Roxxxy’s eyes as she started her journey away from the town. This was by far the saddest part, walking past all the places she’d grown up, all the places she’d been happy, and all the places she’d done things she regretted. Like the High School. It was impossible to get to the bus depot without passing it, but Roxxxy dreaded the memories that would spill when she passed it.

However, where the school was normally dead and silent on a weekend, today it was packed with people, a huge timer with only a few minutes left to spare. Curiosity got the better of her, and she began to shove to the front of the crowd.

There she saw two girls kissing. She knew them, friends of Jinkx’s, she’d seen them in the halls. Something about watching them lit a flame inside of her, her eureka moment. They had not a care in the world, they looked dead and beaten and tired but that was not what she noticed first. What she’d noticed first was the joy in their faces, the power of their kiss, the whole crowd who cheered and supported them. The tears that brimmed her eyes were now falling rapidly down her cheek as she watched the pair.

“Don’t you dare ruin this for them! One minute to go, how dare you show up here and sabotage it. You might be able to put me down but I will not let you get to them.”

Roxxxy turned and there was Jinkx, a stern look on her face.

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m jealous of you Jinkx, I wish I was that confident.”

Seeing the hurt on her bully’s face, despite the pain she’d inflicted on Jinkx, she knew the right thing to do and pulled Roxxxy into a hug.

“I’m gay,” Roxxxy whispered, “and I’m going to stay here, I’m going to put it all right.”

***

10 seconds left. The pain that the couple felt was no too immense to feel, they were in overdrive. They kissed stronger and harder, the cheering of the crowd pushing them on.

And suddenly the timer went; they were finished, finally finished.

The two girls pulled apart and simultaneously said the three words they’d both felt for the past 24 hours. Though their relationship was not fully mended, they had started to get there. Sharon did the one thing no one but Alaska expected. She pulled her ex close to her, and once again, stood in front of their school, were two girls kissing.

#ashley #two girls kissing #smut #angst #trixya #shalaska #witney #jinkx monsoon #roxxxy andrews #lesbian au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #willam belli #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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jackywroteabook · 5 years ago

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5 Minute Fiction: “SUPERMAN”

{Just a little taste of the writing you can expect in one of my full-length novels, without the sheer number of hours, willpower, & commitment it takes to finish it. All short stories are representative of my writing voice, content, characters, settings, moods, & themes of my general fiction. Enjoy a quick snapshot of the kind of writing a genuine, award-winning Jacquelyn Eubanks Novel™ has to offer. All short stories take approximately 5 minutes or less to read. Like what you read? Buy my books on Amazon (The Last Summer & The Last Time) and follow me on social media (@JackyWroteABook).}

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I remember him in flashbacks. It’s the little things that trigger memories. Last weekend, I was cleaning out his basement and came across a box full of cassette tapes from the nineties. I pulled out each rectangular tape and examined the labels running along the side, noting the bands and album names written in his blocky handwriting, now faded or smudged. One particular tape caught my eye: Crash Test Dummies’ “The Ghosts That Haunt Me”.

His favorite.

Tearing through the boxes almost in a mania, I finally uncovered his old stereo system, the one with three CD slots, huge speakers, and two cassette tape places. I plugged it into an outlet and blew the dust off the tape slot, placed the cassette in, clicked the door shut, and pressed ‘play’.

A sob caught in my throat as the baritone’s voice wafted through the room, crooning to the piano ballad about Superman.

I close my eyes and am plunged into a memory of sitting in Daddy’s lap, listening to this song while he sings along, my curly red hair tucked under his chin. I can feel his throat vibrate with the notes and his whiskers scratch like sandpaper against my cheek. He smells of cigar smoke and some kind of cologne that I never learned the name of, but he always wore it. I’m no older than three.

The hot, silent tears slide down my cheeks like that moment when you reach the top of the rollercoaster and the only place you can go is down, down, faster and faster, at such a steep incline that your stomach drops and you feel like you’re falling and suddenly you can’t contain it anymore, and you just scream.

My father was a man who didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. His actions spoke volumes.

We were never rich, but my dad made enough to provide a good life for his family. I remember one Christmas, my family was ready to go on our first real vacation – as in, no tents, sleeping bags, or dehydrated backpacking food. We were going to a ski resort in Montreal, and my sisters and I were so excited to finally see real snow after living in southern Arizona our whole lives. I packed my suitcase full of the essentials days before we had to leave – my stuffed animals, a nightgown with Barbie on it, my blankie, and some Froot Loops – and I was so excited that I could hardly sleep. Two nights before Christmas, Dad called everyone into the living room for a family meeting. He explained that we weren’t going on the trip anymore. He looked somberly down at me and my two little sisters, reached for our mother’s hand, and drew in a breath. He then explained that there are a lot of people less fortunate than us. As simply as possible, he told us that the Bank was going to take away another family’s house if they didn’t pay money.

“How much money, daddy?”

“A lot.”

He explained that rather than go on a trip this Christmas, we were giving the money we would’ve spent on vacation to the Bank so the family, who had little girls just like me, could keep their house.

He never told us who the family was.

I never learned how much money he gave them…but, as an adult with a job and children of my own, I can take an educated guess.

Dad spent decades working for the same company, and he hated it. He told me he’d dreamt of being a jet fighter pilot, but his eyesight was so horrendous that it was impossible. So he settled for a job he didn’t enjoy, and it drained him. Hours upon hours, he labored in a DuPont plant mixing chemicals to create car paint. He couldn’t stand the wrath of his superiors on the corporate end, and he never could get close to his coworkers. He was a natural introvert, yes, but he didn’t associate himself with people who degraded his integrity. The men at his job smoked pot during lunch breaks, blew all their Friday paychecks on hard liquor, and frequently invited him into a prostitute trailer parked behind the factory. He didn’t agree with that lifestyle and was persecuted for it mercilessly. Often, the only companionship he found at work was from the radio, which he listened to while eating lunch in the car.

There are things I distinctly inherited from Dad. His passion for politics is a perfect example. I remember nights spent in front of the TV, Tom Brokaw broadcasting the news, my dad and I sharing pita bread and hummus or crackers with canned sardines or smoked oysters. The salty, oily taste of fish in a tin acts as a trigger. During those quiet times spent together, he liked to pass on thoughts and wisdom.

The only person he ever hated was Bill Clinton. He despised that man, and whenever the president appeared on our screen, Dad would shut the television off in a huff. When I asked him why President Clinton bothered him so much, he just shook his head and uttered, “I can’t respect a man who cheats on his wife. How do you trust someone who lies to the very person they promised to always be faithful to?”

I never questioned the morality of my dad. He was a righteous man who read the Bible, attended church, and believed that beer is a sign that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

He had that exact phrase – it’s a Ben Franklin quote – on a T-shirt. His best friend, Robert, had a shirt to match it. They were closer than brothers, and I remember Uncle Bob was always at our house bearing gifts and pearls of wisdom for us girls. He and Dad joked that the hope of America rested on my shoulders, and that it was my duty to keep my reputation as spotless as possible so I could be president one day. I never forgot their faith in me, long after Uncle Bob waded into the deep end of atheism and then went under, completely submerged and drowning in the bitterness of his refusal to acknowledge a god. We never saw him again, and even though Dad said nothing, I know losing his best friend like that was worse than if he had died.

Dad’s father died when he was fourteen, and from that moment on he took on the roll of Superman for his mother and brother during their grieving. He loved his father more than words can express, and I knew it; spread throughout my childhood were bits and pieces of Papa, appearing in the forms of a watch Dad always wore, a Free Masons ring, a case full of World War II medals, and a brown leather recliner that he and I always sat in. Dad always loved World War II movies. I never said it aloud, but I always figured those movies helped him feel connected to his father.

In high school, I was bullied and sexually harassed by a gang of undersexed pubescent boys. Every day I would make up outlandish excuses to stay home, or halfway through the day fake sick and get sent home early. Finally, Dad caught on to what was happening, so he went directly to the principal so the harassment would stop. To our dismay, my sexist principal simply had a chat with each of the boys that consisted of approximately two sentences: “She’s obviously mentally unstable. Just leave her alone and the school won’t have to deal with her problems anymore.” Needless to say, this didn’t help the situation; if anything, it was reassurance to the boys that our principal was on their side, and they could continue torturing me without fear of punishment. That’s when Dad decided to take things into his own hands: he signed me up for taekwondo and taught me everything I needed to know about dealing with assholes. By the time I’d reached a black belt and gotten in two fights at school (both in self-defense, of course), I may not have been well-liked, but at least I was left alone. Dad taught me that I didn’t have to be afraid because all the strength, courage, and confidence I’d ever need was already within me.

When I was twelve, I decided that baseball was my favorite sport and I promptly became obsessed with it. In fact, rarely a day went by that I wasn’t glued to the TV, engulfed in a Dodger’s game. I came to know every player, every team, every score, stat, and skill in Major League Baseball. And before I knew it, Dad was joining me. He never, to my recollection, was a baseball fan. But something changed, and all of a sudden he was the one keeping track of scores and standings and waiting for me to join him in watching the game. On my birthday every year, we drove all the way to Los Angeles to watch a Dodger’s game. Just me and him. It was wonderful. On the way home from one of those birthday games, I was falling asleep in the shotgun seat when I heard him whisper, “Thanks, Mack-ster, for reminding me of how much I love baseball.”

I later learned that baseball was his dad’s favorite sport, and the two of them bonded over listening to Dodgers games on the radio when he was a child. After his father died, his love of baseball died, too. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to me when my dad died. If he ever died.

To me, Dad was more invincible than Superman. He never showed weakness, but he had a quiet empathy that bred an old-world, gentlemanly air about him. He seemed timeless, and even as the years passed he was consistent in character and looks. That’s why our last Daddy-Daughter Night left me numb and disbelieving, as if reality could not be as frigid as the touch of his words.

It was a Tuesday night. He called me up and suggested we go out to Luigi’s, our favorite Italian restaurant. I met him at our usual booth, situated under a wooden overhang covered in fake grapes hanging from vines. It smelled like tomato sauce, basil and garlic. A basket full of breadsticks sat in front of him on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth, a dish of olive oil and parmesan cheese next to it. We carried on our usual conversation through the appetizer – calamari – and the salad course – with bleu cheese dressing, like always – when the air thickened with words not yet uttered, suppressed and even withheld. I could sense this cloud suffocating and separating us. There was something he wasn’t telling me, I knew, but I couldn’t reach him through the smog of sensitive silence. Finally, when the waiter delivered our entrees (eggplant parmesan for me, veal parmesan for him), he spoke.

“I’m dying.”

His words made the cloud evaporate so quickly that it created a vacuum, a black hole sucking out every emotion, every word, every thought, every sense until I was left with only shock. The breath caught in my throat, and I could feel my chest tighten with the realization that Superman had a kryptonite: Cancer.

I broke down sobbing within a matter of seconds, the tears flooding my eyes and pouring down my face as if a dam burst, throwing away all lessons he’d given me on “mental toughness”. And, to my absolute horror, he started crying, too.

It was the first – and the last – time I ever saw my father cry.

He died that spring.

And the man who shaped me into the person I am, the legacy he left behind, the impact he made on other lives – they are still a part of me, a part of the world, even though he’s no longer physically here. I feel his presence in objects, in sounds, in scents that trigger memories and bring him back to me intangibly. He did everything he could to leave this world better than he found it. He was the greatest man I ever knew.

The last notes of the song echoed in the basement, spreading a warm, bittersweet wave of nostalgia through my body reverberating in my soul as I hung on to the last line of lyrics:

And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him…

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