#I’ve been busy running away from alligators in florida so i am not caught up

[xdancing-with-myselfx]

where did mozart get a phone? Also when did he learn the word mamasita ? 💔

[artificialqueens]

Everything is Better in My Ugly Christmas Sweater (Pearlet) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: This is a story about a sweater. I own a total of fourteen holiday sweaters/cardigans/tshirts, and therefore I cannot relate to those of you who do not enjoy the concept of an ugly holiday sweater. We’ve made it through the first week of December! Keep it up, loves xxx

November 28th

“It’s not even December, yet, Pearl.” Violet huffed slightly as a large man with two small children cut her off in their haste to cross through the ladies’ section of the department store to get to the toys. “And it’s irrelevant, anyway, because you know I wouldn’t be seen dead in one.”

“But all the good ones go so fast.” Pearl argued. 

Violet ignored her, focus remaining on the dark purple dress hanging on the rack next to them.

“And,” Pearl continued, everyone knows Christmas basically starts as soon as Halloween is over, so you don’t need to feel bad about buying a Christmas sweater in November. Even Thanksgiving is over, now.”

Violet abandoned her inspection of the dress and turned abruptly to Pearl. “I don’t care what day of the year it is, I will not be seendead in a fucking ugly Christmas sweater.”

“Even if the theme of the office party this year is ‘Ugly Christmas Sweater Chic’?”

“How can an ugly Christmas sweater be ‘chic’?”

Pearl shrugged, idling up to Violet and pouting, cuddling into her shoulder. “I dunno.” She said, batting her lashes. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” She cocked her head to one side in an attempt to look cute.

Violet’s face softened and she brushed some blonde hair away from Pearl’s cheek. “You really want me to wear a Christmas sweater?” She asked with a tiny smile.

Pearl nodded, pout remaining.

Violet wrapped both arms around her and hugged her close in the middle of the store. “Pearlie…” She kissed her ear and dropped her voice to a whisper, “the day I put on a fucking Christmas sweater in public, is the day Michelle Visage wears a turtle neck.”

Pearl slowly pulled away from her. “You’re a party pooper, Chachki.”

“And I’ll look a million bucks doing it.”

  …….

  December 1st

Pearl burst in to the apartment, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get to the kitchen.

“Happy December!” 

Violet slowly turned from the stove, placing the spoon she was using to stir the pasta down onto the counter. “You told me that this morning, when we woke up.”

Pearl grinned. “I know, but-“

“And you told everyone in the office when we got to work.”

“Yes, I know, but this-,”

“And you screamed it at me as you left work and sprinted in the opposite direction to our home with zero explanation.”

“Right, yes, okay,” Pearl said, “sue me for being excited about Christmas.”

Violet rolled her eyes.

“But,” she said, holding up a bag, “I got us presents!”

Violet frowned. “It’s not Christmas, yet.”

“Early presents, then.” She said. “They’re to give us some holiday cheer. Get us in the spirit of the season.”

Pearl held out the bag and Violet eyed it suspiciously. “If you get anymore Christmas spirit in you, you’re going to start shitting glitter.”

“Just take the damn gift, Vi.”

For a mere half of a second, Violet thought she was about to be presented with some kind and thoughtful gift from her girlfriend of two years, although she berated herself for even entertaining that thought once she caught a glance of the bright and assaulting red and green inside the bag.

“Fuck you.” She said and dropped the bag on the kitchen floor. Violet stormed out of the room. “Cook your own fucking dinner.”

Pearl grabbed the bag and chased after her. “But I got us good ones!” She shouted.

Violet caught sight of the playful and amused grin on Pearls face before she slammed the bedroom door in it. 

“They were like forty dollars each.” Pearl told her through the door. “These are good ones.” She shook the bag. It jingled. “And they have bells on them!”

“I am not wearing a Fucking. Christmas. Sweater.”

Pearl looked down at the bag. “We’ll see.”

  ………..

  December 6th

“Just try it on.”

“No.”

“I think you’ll like it once you try it on, Vi.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please, Vi….for me.”

“No.”

“Ugh. Just hold it up against you. Look like this. Hold it up against you and you can see how cute the little pompoms look with the bells and the snowman-,”

“Get off me.”

“Violet, just-,”

“Now!”

“…Well, you don’t need to get so pissy about it. It’s just a sweater.”

  ………..

  December 12th

“I’m glad we decided to stay home for Christmas, this year.” Pearl mumbled sleepily into Violet’s hair. “S’too much effort to go see our families.”

Violet nodded, snuggling closer to Pearl on the couch. “We can go see them in the New Year. When everyone’s less stressed.”

“And when we can buy their gifts in the clearance section in January.”

Violet snorted. “You’re terrible. “

“Hey, my mom wants a new crockpot? Sure. But if I can get it fifteen dollars cheaper, then we’re both happy.”

They had been cuddled up on the living room couch since finishing dinner, channel hopping and chatting, making the most of their first free evening in over a week.  The holidays were a busy time for most; Violet and Pearl were no exception. 

The apartment was chilly, and Pearl had wrapped them both in a blanket from the bottom of their bed. It was actually warming up in the living room, or at least under the blanket, but Pearl didn’t have enough willpower in herself to pull away from Violet, not matter how sweaty her back was against the couch.

“You better not be buying my gift in clearance.” Violet muttered, eyes still on the screen. “I want my presents on Christmas day.”

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Pearl kissed her hair, “I’ve already got you covered.”

There was pause in the conversation as both women watched a celebrity chef attempt to convince the audience that the audacity on screen was worth buying their book for. 

“Pearl?” Violet asked as the show went to commercial.

“Mm?”

“Is my Christmas present that apocalypse of a holiday sweater?”

“…No?”

Violet curled herself into Pearl’s chest, closing her eyes and pulling up the blanket. “If you dare present me with that sweater as a gift on Christmas morning, I will not hesitate to divorce you.”

“But we’re not married.”

“Not yet.”

Pearl looked down at Violet curled up in her lap. “I’m not too sure what the threat was in there, but I can just sense it was there.”

Violet yawned. “Oh, believe me, it was there.”

  ……….

  December 20th– Party Day!

The weather outside was frightful, and a fire would have been so delightful for Pearl to come home to, but alas, the apartment only provided a shitty gas heating system that was more difficult to control than a starving pit-bull in a butcher shop. Pearl was cold. 

She shrugged off her winter coat, shaking the few snowflakes off that hadn’t had the time to melt into the fabric, and hung it over the seldom-used chair in the living room. Her boots left wet marks in a trail from the front door, and Pearl quickly kicked them off and pushed them onto their shoe rack. She mopped up the wet footprints with her socks as Violet stepped through the bedroom door.

“That seemed to take you fucking ages.” Violet said. She eyed the floor by Pearl’s feet a little suspiciously as she fastened her earring, but said no more.

“Sorry.” Pearl said. “Post office was insane. But I got my Mom’s fake gift posted, and got the gift she sent for me.” She held up the opened package she had run home with tucked under her coat. “I already told her it’s just a token gift though. I still have plans to buy that Crock Pot half off in two weeks.”

“Did you open your gift, already?”

Pearl nodded, grinning. “Not that she knows that.”

Violet laughed, crossing the room to inspect the parcel. “It’s not even Christmas, yet.”

“Yeah, but it’s Hanukkah.”

Violet frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“Oh.”

“And you’re not Jewish.” She said, holding out her hand. “Like at all.”

Pearl handed her the small package and Violet took it, moving to sit on the couch. “Well, anyways, I opened it, and I love my Mom.” She grinned. “And she sent you some stuff too!”

Violet emptied the contents of the bubble wrap envelope onto the couch cushion next to her. There was a Christmas card addressed to the both of them, with half of the envelope ripped down the middle in pure Pearl fashion. Pearl’s Mom’s handwriting wished them both a ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year’ and expressed her hope to see them both in the New Year. That made Violet’s tummy feel warm.

There was also a little golden envelope, also ripped to shreds, which contained a gift card for Brooklyn Fox, addressed to Pearl.

“It’s weird that your mom gives you money for sexy lingerie.” Violet said, holding up the envelope. “You know that, right?”

Pearl shrugged her shoulders, wrapping one arm around Violet as she sat next to her on the arm of the couch. “Mom just wants my boobs to be well supported.” She said. “S’not weird. She got you one, too.”

Violet flicked her eyes down to the othergolden envelope and quickly slit it open with her nail. Sure enough, she too, was a proud recipient of a Brooklyn Fox gift card from Pearl’s mom. “I think this makes it more weird.”

“Maybe she just wants us to get new swimsuits. Y’know, in case we wanna go visit her and go swimming?”

“But mine says ‘To Violet, have a lovely Christmas. Hope you and Pearl have fun with these gift cards.’”

“That’s not weird.”

“Then she drew a wink face emoji.”

“Okay,” Pearl frowned, “so Mom’s a little weird. Calm your tits.”

Violet snickered. “I actually fucking love your Mom.” She picked up the final two items on the couch and held them out in front of them both. “These are cute.”

They were two key chains, both with little dangling green beads and a single neon yellow alligator. A further charm hung from each, a flat piece of metal in the shape of Florida that featured the names ‘Pearl’ and ‘Violet’ stamped into them, respectively. Violet inspected hers with a small smile and eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

“This is cute.” She said, again, running a thumb over the alligator.

Pearl took hers. “Right? I love key chains!”

“When did your mom visit Florida?”

“She didn’t.”

Violet looked up at Pearl. “Where did she get these from, then?”

“Internet, probably.” Pearl smiled. 

“Then why choose Florida?”

“I dunno.” Pearl said. “She likes orange juice.”

Violet stared at her girlfriend for a few moments longer, if only to confirm the fact that she was not going to expand on her explanation that made entirely no sense. When Pearl only continued to happily fiddle with the little beaded charm, Violet picked up the bubble wrap envelope she had discarded earlier. A sliver of card caught her eye, still inside the package, the edge catching on the ripped corner of the envelope.

“What’s this?”

Pearl looked over. “Oh, Mom sent me an old photo she found.” She said, as Violet pulled out the picture. “She wrote something on the back about reminding her of the good times. It’s cute.”

The photograph was creased down the middle, but it didn’t take away from the pure joy radiating from the family smiling in the picture. Pearl’s mom looked almost the same as she did the last time Violet saw her in the summer, although her hair screamed late nineties. She wore blue eye shadow that clashed horrifically with the bright red and green knitted sweater she was sporting.

Pearl pointed to her mom. “You thought the sweaters I bought for us were bad?” She chuckled to herself. “At least I’m not asking you to wear that.”

The children in the image were also sporting matching horrific Christmas sweaters. Violet could almost feel her skin pricking with the feeling of itchy wool, in empathy with the smiling kiddies. Pearl’s brother, somewhere around ten in the photo, was holding up a shining soccer ball. The little girl, on their mother’s other side, held a half eaten cookie.

“Even as a child,” Pearl said, wistfully, “I knew, that food was life.” She laughed. “No but seriously, Mom told us to hold up are favourite gift, and I was like ‘oh, cookie, obviously’.”

Violet traced a finger over the tiny Pearl in the photo. “How old were you here?”

“Um, I don’t know. Like five or six? No more than six.”

“You were so cute.” 

“Were?”

Violet looked up to her and grinned. “Are.” She corrected, pouting until Pearl kissed her. “My Pearlie.” She looked back at the Pearl in the picture. “Is this photograph the reason you’re so obsessed with hideous holiday fashions?”

“Well,” Pearl smiled, “maybe a little, but it was something we always did. Y’know?” She wrapped an arm around Violet’s shoulders, looking down at the photo, too. “From my very first Christmas my grandma made us sweaters to wear on Christmas day, and it was so exciting to be allowed to open that one gift on Christmas Eve, and know it was gonna be the sweater but still being so excited about it.”

“I never knew that.”

Pearl shrugged. “I guess it never came up. We stopped doing it after she died, and then we moved out and went to college.” She explained. “It wasn’t until a few years later that I kinda felt nostalgic about it, and got myself a sweater. And I realised I missed it.” She grinned and squeezed Violet’s shoulder. “I like the whole fashion faux pas of the Christmas sweater. It’s like everyone’s in agreement that at this one time of year, we’re allowed to dress ugly.” She smirked at Violet. “Well, almost, everyone is in agreement.”

Violet frowned. “I just don’t get it.” She sighed. “In our house on Christmas we had to wear dresses, suits, have our hair perfect, be pristine. My dad would have thrown a fit if I had tried to get him to let me wear a sweater to Christmas dinner.”

“The benefits of being too poor to eat out were that I literally didn’t take off my pyjamas for like two whole days over Christmas when I was a kid.”

“That sounds like luxury, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it was fun.” Pearl kissed her head. “You don’t have to wear the sweater, Vi. I want you to be comfortable in whatever you wear, but I can’t wait to wear my sweater at the party.” 

………….

December 20th, 6pm, Party Night

“Vi, the Uber’s gonna be here in like two minutes.” Pearl called from the living room couch. “Hurry that little perky ass up.”

“Coming.” Violet shouted back. “Just, give me a second.” She took a moment to stare at herself in their bedroom full-length mirror. “For Pearl.” Violet muttered, closing her eyes to gather some confidence. “You’re doing this for Pearlie, because you love her.”

“Come on, baby, car’s here.”

Violet shook herself, ran a hand through her long dark hair, and turned to grab her clutch from the bed. Before she could change her mind, Violet stepped out into the living room.

Pearl was buttoning up her coat, with Violet’s slung over her arm. She looked up, holding the coat out for Violet to step in to, when she caught sight of the outfit Violet had settled on for the evening. 

“Wow.” Pearl breathed. “I genuinely never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, take it all in, because after tonight I swear to God, Pearl, I’m burning it.”

Pearl laughed. She walked over to Violet, holding open the faux fur coat for her. Violet put her arms in, and let Pearl wrap it around her body, bringing it closed over the bright red and green sweater. As her fingers brushed the front of it, the little bells jingled. Pearl was beaming.

“People would never believe it if I told them you’re a softie, Vi.”

Violet huffed. “And you wont go around telling people that.”

Pearl pulled her into a hug, holding Violet tightly and pressing a kiss into her hair. “I can’t believe that you love me enough to wear something so awful in front of all of our colleagues.”

“So you admit that the sweaters are gross?”

“Of course I do.”

Violet pulled away to glare at her. “Then why are we wearing them?”

“Because I’m nostalgic and you’re in love.”

“Fucking hell.”

“And just for the record, Vi,” Pearl said, “I love you, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Violet fastened the coat up higher, until no part of the sweater was showing, “you owe me a good fucking Christmas gift. A great fucking gift.” She led them out of the apartment, allowing Pearl to pull the door closed behind them.

“Can I interest you in a discount crock pot, that will be available for redemption sometimes in the New Year?”

“I will hurt you.”

[thecitysorrowbuilt]

Two Little Kings

“Okay, let’s boogie.” Fumblingly Stuart tried to shove his pistol back into his coat pocket but at every attempt something seemed to catch, either metal or fabric. Frustrated he jammed it into the back of his belt and took off running. Winston was already throwing open the car door when he arrived and in one fluid movement the two slid into the vehicle, leaned their seats way back and shot off. An array of Spanish curses assailed them as squealing tires propelled them down to the next level of the parking deck, followed fast by bullets, pinging off the plated doors. “I think most of that will buff out.” “Good thought, too bad I left my Ding King at my ex-wife’s place.” “Man, you should’ve had a better lawyer.” “Says the man who would take a plea deal for life as long as it keeps him out of gen pop.” “I’ve seen Sons of Anarchy and I know what they do to guys like me in there. In this occupation good looks are a major hazard.” The round mirror marking the blind corner of the parking deck filled up quick as their sedan approached it, Winston cooling turning the wheel by the bottom while the other hand wrangled with the radio. Stuart leaned up slightly from where he was lying down against his seat, turning around to fire what could only be generously and vaguely referred to as suppressive fire out the back window. “We just had to come to the top of the deck, huh.” “It was all part of the plan, look at this, we have the whole way down to lose them. This is nothing but faith in your abilities.” “If they have time to radio in that we’re coming down hot you’d better have faith in Him instead.” Stuart pursed his lips and actually turned his head to aim the next few shots before opening the glove box and rummaging around. “I already ate all the twizzlers.” “Yeah yeah but what about the armor-piercing rounds, did we bring them?” “Not in the glovebox, console.” “Riight. Okay good.” Dropping the magazine of hollow points in the floorboard, Stuart reloaded to a more suitable ammunition. Winston shot him a side long glance and a quick ‘Yikes’ from under his mustache and sunglasses before leaning further over the steering wheel and slowing down. Pulling the barrel over the top of the by now thoroughly distressed headrest, Stuart opened up on their pursuers. Bullets probably once destined for revolutionary purposes found themselves put to far better use as they gored the front end of the Lincoln past the point of recognition. Flames appeared in ways and places which if this had been an action film, moviegoers would say looked ‘unrealistic’. For his part Winston just gunned it. All the ponies in the hood kicked as one and the two ne’er-do-wells lunged away from their assailants. “I wish I’d said something witty, like ‘Do you want to see a magic trick’ or something.” “That’s witty, ‘do you want to see a magic trick’? You sound like a pedophile.” “Okay smart guy, what would you say, probably some fucking weeb-trash. Omayo-wamo-desu” “Yeah okay, now that’s pretty good. No of course not I’d say like, pee pee poo poo and their last thoughts would be ‘Wow’.” “Imagine that being the last thing you see and hear. Live by the sword, die by the, uh, sword?” Rounding the corner of the second to last floor as fast as they could, a much unwanted sound reached their ears from below. Something heavy was coming up the deck, and fast. “Maybe it’s just a uh, a big hemi truck or something.” “Somehow I doubt that. I think it’s time for me to try something different.” As the roaring got louder, both the ol’ Pram and the boy’s new adversary came face to face for just a second before Winston shifted into action. A big SUV loaded to the teeth with wild-eyed Cubans approached, but before they could open fire, Winston swung the wheel hard to the side, turning the car over onto the two driver’s side wheels, on a direct collision course with the concrete railing. As soon as the belly of the car reached the side of the deck, another heave of the wheel sent them rolling over the wall and down the other side onto the opposite side wheels outside. Struggling to pull away from the wall, Winston fought with it just for a second before smoothly landing outside the deck, cat-like. “See, now that was a magic trick.” “No fire no magic trick that’s the rules, sorry bro.” From inside the SUV could be heard spinning around like a caged lion, clearly intent on escaping to continue pursuit. “We gotta shake them, let’s try some Assassin’s Creed shit.” “Okay yeah, and I’ve got the perfect idea.” Backing out of the parking lot quickly onto the road, Winston made a beeline for a procession of cars already heading somewhere, and wedged himself in with them. “As long as we act natural, I don’t think anyone will notice how shot up we are.” “Ahhh, I think they probably will.” Gesturing lazily with the barrel of his gun, Stuart pointed towards the black SUV which had managed to extricate itself from the parking deck and was now trailing the procession. “Okay, well depending on what this is they might play it cool and not-“ Winston was interrupted by the sudden impact of them being bumped from behind and like dominos bumping the car in front of them. “Aw fuck it.” The two unbuckled and jumped from the car, briefcase in hand, and ran out into the crowd which was already forming from all the people leaving their cars. “What’s going on, there’s so many people.” “Maybe like, the mayor died or something. Or a rich guy.” “Wouldn’t we have heard about that?” “I don’t watch the news, do you?” “Well, no, but usually-“ Gunshots erupted from the rear of the procession and chaos ruled as everyone from both the front and the back began to converse on the middle. Somehow the criminal elements chasing our heroes had managed to call in a second SUV which had now pulled itself in front of the cars near the front of the procession. Whoever these people driving in a line were, they emerged en masse, dressed like G-men and armed, and began firing back. “We’ve created a war,” Stuart began, only to turn and find his friend being pulled away by a group of the suited processioners. “Sir, we’ve got to get you out of here!” “No, wait-“ “Oh fuck me. This is not good.” Stuart turned to chase after the mob but more gunshots caused him to duck behind a convenient vehicle. Looking around and trying in vain to get his bearings, he finally found Winston, standing amongst a cluster of slain G-men, being grabbed by the Cubans. Wishing that he had had the presence of mind to bring more guns, he nevertheless ran towards the danger, firing at the mafiosos who replied in kind. For his part Winston seemed in a daze, and to have undertaken a costume change at some point, seeing as he was now wearing some kind of white tux or something. “What the-“ Taking cover again, Stuart looked around and got the full picture for the first time. One Winston was being dragged away by Cubans while another Winston was being stuffed into an armored car by the G-men. Somehow he had multiplied. “What a weird time for his super-powers to emerge. But I mean, kudos to him I guess. Gotta admit I’m a bit jealous.” Divided on which personage to pursue, Stuart’s decision was made for him when a stray bullet caught his right shoulder, knocking him bodily to the ground. Pulling himself up on his left arm, he cradled his gun and finally managed to shove it into his pocket. “Just goes to show.” Pushing himself back to his feet, he lurched away from the ongoing firefight and into the grassy ditches nearby to the road. Lying there in the mud and blood he looked back as both Winston’s were pushed into their captor’s vehicles and spirited away. His mind clouded by pain, Stuart hovered on the brink of consciousness. Tossing his gun away with a murmur of ‘goodbye old friend’ he passed out in the gutter, praying that a passerby might find him before an alligator. ------- Stuart woke up in a hospital bed. He blinked hard and looked around for his gun. Remembering the events of his last experience with being awake, he sighed deeply and tried to find the television remote instead. While his right arm was partially wrapped, his left arm was now handcuffed to the gurney. Well this is an excellent turn of events. “NURSE. NUUUUURSEEEEE!” A young woman came in running and Stuart shot her what he hoped was a winning grin. “Would you mind explaining why I’m cuffed to the bed?” “Well all the people that came in were either with that foreign government or they were gangbangers, so if the Prince’s people didn’t claim you, you got cuffed.” “Wait, what government?” “The Prince of Aceldia was here yesterday. That’s what the big roadway incident was, some maniacs tried to abduct him. Luckily he got away safe.” “Why would the prince of anywhere come to Florida?” “Well that’s a completely different question.” “Okay, ma’am, look, I need to talk to a police officer urgently because I am completely innocent and would like to be uncuffed. I was a completely innocent bystander. Secondly, I would like you to turn on the TV to keep me entertained while I’m busy.” “Alright, I’ll flip it on and see what I can do about the other thing. They’re busy though processing everyone that got nabbed though so it may take a while.” “Fine fine, I’ll be patient, just let me watch the news while you ring them.” Stuart attempted another winning and slightly flirtatious grin and the nurse sucked in one cheek and rolled her eyes. She turned on the tv and put the remote in his left hand. Flipping through the channels Stuart found exactly what he was looking for. A picture of Winston, this time all dressed in royal regalia, and the headline, “Visiting Prince Escapes Abduction Attempt and Returns to Aceldia”.