#best messenger bags for women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cadotoast · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 2- The Summons

Minors DNI please. 4.7k word length

Your house can't really be called anything more than a cottage, really. But it is home to you, your father, and your brother on the occasions when he is not in the Knights' quarters in the palace. It is small, drafty, and in desperate need of repairs, but it is home. It is safety. It is sanctuary.

A week and three days after the announcement at the festival, that sanctuary is shattered.

You are in the middle of sharing a breakfast with your father when the knock at the door comes. Seeing your pale expression, he gets to his feet and answers the door for you. You hear him greet whoever is delivering the message, confirming your residence. Your father, usually so kind and chatty, is rather brusque with the messenger, and does not linger in the doorway before closing the door in the man's face.

"Was it from the palace?" You ask needlessly, stirring your porridge with a wooden spoon.

"It is," Your father says, voice soft. "Do you want to read it? Or shall I?"

You hold your hand out for the sealed letter, and take it from his hand. You rip the top of the envelope open, not bothering with breaking the wax seal that bears the signet of Prince Aldous.

"Dear so-and-so," you start with a dreary, sarcastic sigh. "This is a formal summons to the palace to participate in the presentation of yourself as a candidate for courtship to His Royal Highness Aldous Godfrey. You are required to present yourself at the palace in a weeks's time. Any questions should be directed to the Royal Steward." You set the parchment down, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat.

"I don't want to do this," You whisper to the empty room. "I don't have any desire to be royal."

Your father comes around the table, settling in the chair next to you in order to pull you into a tight embrace. You press your face into his shoulder, leaning into his embrace as you accept the reality that you're going to have to go to the palace.

"Maybe if I'm lucky I'll spill wine on him or something and get booted immediately," You mutter into the fabric of your father's tunic.

He runs his hand over your hair and down your back in a soothing manner. "Whatever happens, whichever the results, I will always be proud of you, my darling daughter. And I have no doubts that you will be safe at the palace, under Jonas' watchful eye."

That thought has occured to you. A dim flicker of hope in what seems like a sea of doom. "He won't let anything happen. Maybe I can bribe him to kidnap me," You giggle then, leaning back once more. Your father gives you a tight-lipped smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle in that familiar, soothing way.

"Well you have a week to get yourself together. Either your Sunday Best, or your washing clothes, which will it be?"

---

"Your summons, my lady?" The guard at the gate peers down at you, an eyebrow raised. He's evidently tired of this particular assignment, and you can't particularly blame him. You hand him the envelope with the letter inside, watching as he removes the summons, skimming over the contents and examining the seal.

"Thank you," the guard says, handing you the letter back. "Continue through that door there, and you will wait in the parlor room with the other ladies being presented today." You give him a nod before gathering your bag into your hands once more and heading for the door that leads into the castle proper.

The morning is bright, sunlight and birdsong filling the courtyard with warmth and beauty. You're loathe to leave it for the uncertainty that is within the castle walls, but alas, with more women arriving behind you, and guards all around keeping a watchful eye, you can't exactly make a grand escape, at least not without making a scene.

Despite your reluctance to participate in this whole debacle, you've resigned yourself to the fact that, if you do indeed try to win the Prince's hand, your father may yet be able to retire in peace and comfort. As the wedded of the heir to the throne, you, and by extension your family, would never be without.

The parlor you enter is well-lit and filled with a soothing breeze. The windows that are usually shuttered against the elements are open now, letting in the smells and sounds of summer. A couple dozen young ladies lounge on the many chairs, cushions, and couches, twittering away like a flock of sparrows. You find yourself a plush cushion to settle on, situated underneath one of the many windows, and pull out a bit of mending from your bag.

As you begin a row of careful stitches on a torn stocking, you let your eyes roam the room. Aside from the young ladies, there are a handful of guards in the room, posted to keep the peace, and to escort the ladies to their audience with the Prince. Every few minutes or so, a harried-looking page will run in, announce the names of several of the women, and then dash away once more.

The ladies themselves are a rainbow of colors, though you cant help but notice that some shine brighter than others. The young noblewomen have come from their estates with bustles and pastels and ropes of pearls. Some even cary boxes and bags of what you can only assume are gifts, though perhaps the better term would be "bribe". The young nobles flounce around and laugh and chat, casting glances over their shoulders at other women in the room, particularly the commoners such as yourself. The truth of the matter is that your Sunday Best will never equate to even the worst of the gowns that those with noble blood boast of.

"Would you care for some refreshment?" A voice from somewhere above you brings you back to the present. You glance up from your needlework, gazing up into the fair face of one of the palace servants. Her plain but practical dress suits her nicely, and she wear a matronly look about her, with her greying hair tucked into a bonnet. "There is wine, cider, ale, and water."

"Some water would be lovely, thank you." You say to the servant with a smile. She gives you one in return, and then moves away to a door that you assume leads to where the refreshments are being stored. In a matter of minutes, you have a cup of cool water in your hands from which to sip from. Then the matron is on her way to the next lady to inquire the same of her.

You're not certain how long you have been sitting on your cushion, basking in the warm sunlight and darning your socks, before a ripple of excitement heralds the return of the pageboy. You lift your gaze to watch the page as he unrolls a slip of parchment, from which he reads several names. You watch those who approach the door when their names are called, noting their mannerisms. All but one of this group seem excited to get their moment with the Prince.

Once they are lead away, the room settles back into its previous state of waiting, and you return once more to the mending in your hands. You count the stitches to keep yourself entertained as the minutes crawl by, humming tunelessly to yourself.

"Is this seat taken?" A familiar voice asks. You glance up to smile at Jenny, gesturing to the cushion beside you. She fluffs her skirts out and settles next to you, bumping your shoulder with hers as she giggles a little.

"It's a good thing you and I got picked for the same day for our summonings," You remark. "I don't know hardly anyone else in here."

"Oh tosh," Jenny said, rolling her eyes. "There are at least three girls here that we attended early schooling with." She scans the crowd. "There's Elisa Redmont, Genevieve Windmyre, and whats-her-name over there."

You roll your eyes and chuckle, rolling your needle between your fingers. "I wouldn't say I know them," you reply in kind. "We meet occasionally on market days, but I don't actually speak with them, or go out of my way to spend time with them." Patting Jenny's arm, you continue. "That's what I have you for. Who else do I need?"

"You flatterer," Jenny grins, leaning gracefully against the wall behind her. You notice the book in her hands, one you'd given her a few years' past for a birthday present. Fondness makes your chest tight as you smile at your friend, before settling your back once more against the stone wall.

The time does go by faster with a friend in tow, and before you know it, the pageboy is back once more with a new set of names. "Jennifer Atkins, Wren Rivers, Carmen Pruitt..." And there, at the end of the list of names, you hear your own. You and Jenny share a look before getting to your feet and move to the door along with the others that have been called.

"I'm sure ready for this to be over with," Jenny murmurs in your ear, a note of nervousness tinging her words now. You nod in agreement, clutching the bag at your side.

As you and the others walk down the stone corridors of the castle, you can't help but admire the beauty in the architecture. High ceilings with arching supports, brass candelabras bearing flickering candles, and braziers glowing with fire. In certain places of the castle are well-worn, but ornate rugs to cover the wooden slats, and in other places, delicate but impractical tables stand, boasting beautiful vases of summer wildflowers.

"My Da says that my great-great Grandda was a mason for this castle," jenny murmurs to you, looking at a stone blocks that line the walls. "Can you imagine?"

You shake your head in mute wonder, eyes wide and taking in all the sights.

"You'd think they'd never been inside a castle, the way they stare," Your ears pique up at the sound of a scornful tone. Facing your attention forward, you see three of the young women in the group huddled together and looking over their shoulders at you and Jenny. You can hear their mocking giggles, and grit your teeth as an angry, embarrassed flush fills your cheeks.

"Ignore them," Jenny murmurs to you, though her face is red and her eyebrows furrow as well. "They are just frustrated that they don't get a leg-up by being noble. Normally, the Prince would never even consider a commoner, and here they are, having to associate with us as they vie for position."

Taking your friend's words to heart, you inhale deeply and slowly before letting the air whoosh from your lungs in a steady stream. More focused and centered now, you lift your chin high, continuing to admire the castle you walk through.

Before long, you're brought before an ornate wooden door, heavy and decorated with some sort of mosaic made of precious and semi-precious stones.

"You will wait here until your name is called," One of the soldiers says. "When your audience with the Prince is over, you will be escorted out to the courtyard from where you entered, and you will be free to return to your respective dwellings." The soldier looks around at the group of women in front of him. "Any questions?" When there are none, he gives a brusque nod, and then raps his knuckles on the heavy wooden door.

The herald looks a little winded, truth be told, his balding white hair all askew. He gives the group of girls, yourself included a slightly weary glance, before unrolling the scroll of parchment he has in his hands. "Let's start with Wren Rivers, shall we?"

One by one, the girls are called. Jenny is in the middle of the pack, and after she is escorted to the throne room, time seems to drag on infinitely longer. You lean with your back against the cool stone wall, peering up at a high and shuttered window that lets in a small crack of sunlight. The otherwise dim entryway is lit by torches, their flames flickering and dancing to some song unknown to you.

Soon enough, you are alone once more, save for the guards who remain with you. In an attempt to steady your nervous fidgeting, you clasp your hands behind you, humming tunelessly as you begin to count flagstones. One... Two... Three... Four...

"You look familiar, my lady." You glance up from your counting towards one of the guards, who is looking at you with a queer expression. "Have you been around the palace before?"

You shake your head, rocking back on your slippered heels a little, and then forward onto your toes. "No, I can't say that I have. My brother, however, is a Knight and guard for the castle here. That might be why I seem familiar."

The guard grunts, giving you a once-over, before dropping the topic and returning to his watch. You return to your counting, now timing your breaths with the even and odd counts.

Somewhere around three hundred, the heavy door opens, and the herald says your name. Despite his tired expression, his eyes are kind, and he gives you a soft smile to match your nervous one. "Are you ready?"

The nod you give is a little shaky, but you manage it nonetheless. The herald enters the room and announces you as you step through into the hall beyond.

The high ceilings continue here, the rafters arching above your head. Torches in brackets along the wall remain unlit at this time, allowing for natural light to enter the room from the lofted windows. The ground underfoot is smooth flagstone, though as you raise your gaze to the end of the room where the dais and the throne sits, you notice a small recess into the floor, like a remarkably shallow amphitheater, and a beautiful mosaic which decorates the floor in front of the throne.

The king's throne has been replaced with a smaller, but no less elegant one. The Crown Prince is settled in the throne, draped in fine silk and velvet, and with a silver wine goblet in his hand. Behind him stand his parents, and to the sides of the dais is the full guard of the King's Men. The urge to twitch when you notice familiar faces in the audience rises up, a flash flood of heat in your face.

As it is, you brave the walk down to the mosaicked floor, and dip into a curtsy as low and as graceful as you can manage.

"Rise," Prince Aldous says, and you do so, setting your cloth bag behind you so as to not be a distraction. A moment of silence drags on as you wait for the Prince to finish looking you over. "You look familiar, My Lady," he finally says, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. "Have we met?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure, your highness." You clasp your hands in front of you, biting the inside of your cheek to remind yourself not to roll your eyes at the increasingly annoying reminder how much you look like Jonas. "But my brother is a knight of the realm, it's possible that you are thinking of him." Out of the corner of your eye, You see Ser MacTavish grin, apparently recalling the conversation you'd had with him and his comrades at the festival.

"And your brother is...?" The prince's gaze is intense, boring into you.

"Ser Jonas, of the same surname as I," Recognition flares in the Prince's eyes, and you watch for a queer moment as a handful fo emotions flits across his face, before his expression melts into a smooth mask once more.

"I see," He nods slowly. "You and he share a striking resemblance," Another heartbeat of silence, and Prince Aldous Adjusts his seat, leaning forward a little more as he combs his pale hair off of his forehead. "Tell me about yourself, My lady."

You hesitate, gnawing on your lip slightly. Searching for the right words, your gaze flicks over the others in the room. The King and Queen watch you with rapt attention, and you don't dare hold their gazes for long, before shifting to glance at the knights. Ser Simon in his black armor, Ser Mactavish with his kilt. Sers John and Kyle have their heads tilted towards each other slightly, as if in the middle of conversation, their gazes on you. You feel the older's dark blue eyes on you more intently than most.

"I am the lowborn second child of a blacksmith." You finally say, rocking from your toes to your heels. "My mother passed away a few years ago in the Summer Sickness, Leaving just my father, my brother and I. My brother, as I mentioned, is a knight serving in your Highness's service.

"My father is aging, and recently had to retire due to an injury. The Summer Sickness also left him much weaker than he used to be, his heart aches for my mother, I feel.

"I bake for a local tavern to earn some coin, and serve in the evenings to travelers at some local inns. It gets us by, between my income and my brother's, we are luckier than most to benefit from the generosity of our peers and superiors.

"I know my letters and my numbers; I used to assist my father in keeping record of his expenses. I enjoy reading when I can afford the time. I can sew and mend, and I am learning knitting from a friend. I can cook and maintain a household, and with the help of Jonas, I am a decent seat on a horse."

"Can you wield any weapon?" Prince Aldous asks, brows furrowed.

"Not well, Your Highness," Your hands run along the sleeves of your forearms. "My brother has made sure that I have some small skill in knife-work, and he bids me bring one with me when I leave the cottage unattended. Though today I lave left it at home, as you can see." The spot at your waist where the small knife in its worn leather sheathe would normally hang from your belt is indeed vacant.

"As a child I had some experience with the sling, but that would be the extent of my weapons knowledge."

"Do you play any instruments? Perform any art?"

You think of the lute that your mother used to play. "Unfortunately I have not had the pleasure of being able to learn the finer arts. Especially since mother died." You trace the line of your lips with a fingertip. "My family isn't as poor as others... but it is hard to justify luxuries such as instrument or dance lessons when we are still struggling to get by."

Prince Aldous stares at you for a long moment before getting to his feet, and steps down from the dais. You watch with wide eyes as he walks towards you with a swaggering charm. Those remaining on the dais, as if surprised at the Prince's movements, murmur amongst one another. Ser John steps down as well, shadowing whom you now assume to be his protective charge.

The Prince's movements are smooth, like the strides of a dancer, or mabey like one of the great mountain cats that stalk the outer shanties of the town. As he draws even with you, you have to tilt your head up to remain meeting his gaze; he's quite a bit taller than you. You fight the urge to draw back a step as the prince bends his head down towards you, close enough that his breath fans your face as he takes one of your hands into his own. They are warmer than you thought they'd be.

"Have you had any lovers before me, my Lady?" His voice is pitched low enough that only you, and maybe the guard standing at his shoulder, can hear. All the same, your cheeks flame red, and your ears burn in indignation. "Do you currently have a lover? Are you here unwillingly?"

"I don't see how my lovers, past or present, is your business, Your Highness," You mirror his lowered tone, but there is a bite of frost to your words. You watch as Aldous' spine snaps straight, his face tilted down with an unreadable expression. Oh Damn, I've done it now. You press your lips into a thin line, but make no move to remove your hand from his.

"Because," The words are drawn out, as if he is speaking with a child, "I need to know if you will be loyal to me, or if there is a risk of unfaithfulness with someone who might be my competition for your beauty." One of his thumbs, long and thin, strokes the back of your hand with a feather's touch. "I also need to ensure that whomever I chose will not give me bastard heirs, female or male."

"There is no one that you need to be concerned of," You say with measured tone, despite your irritation, "The only men in my life are my brother and father."

Prince Aldous considers you for a few more moments, before pulling back and spinning on his heel, leaving you for the dais once more. He nearly shoulder-checks the Captain, who takes a step back to let him pass. Ser John turns his gaze towards you for an instant, his gaze scrutinizing. The appraisal takes only a second, and then he is stepping back up into the dais to his previous station.

"That is all the questions I have for you, my Lady. You are dismissed."

You don't linger to ponder the brusqueness of the dismissal, nor the queer feeling settling in your gutt. With another curtsy, you gather your bag into your hands and allow one of the guards to escort you from the throne room.

Back out in the courtyard, you blink at the bright sunlight, shading your eyes as you peer up into the sky. It is clear and breezy, a fair day. A direct contrast to the storm brewing in your own thoughts.

"How did it go?" Jenny steps out from a shady spot beneath a sprawling willow. You approach her, sighing through your nose.

"It went,"

Jenny chuckles at your brevity, reaching out to catch the crook of your elbow. She tows you along beside her as she makes her way across the courtyard, back to the main road that leads into town. "Nothing of interest to note? I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

"He recognized my resemblance to Jonas."

"Everyone does. Are you sure you two aren't twins?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Anyways, he asked about the things I could do, and I guess about the things I can't do. He asked about if I had any lovers, too."

"He did?" Jenny's eyebrows raise. "That's a rather intimate question."

"If you think so, then you will love how he asked me!"

Before long, the grey clouds are blown away from Jenny's gushing and laughing as you dramatize your experience, and as you both descend into the village, you let your cares tumble away for a little while, like pebbles in the bottom of a stream.

---

The phases of the moon pass, and you almost forget the looming doom that hangs over your head. Each day, Prince Aldous meets more and more young women of the kingdom, some of which will be trying their very best to impress him. You're grateful for the number of women, frankly, and the length of the process. "The more women there are to choose from, the less likely I'll be one of them," You tell your father over supper one evening, nearly a full moon having passed since your audience.

"Aye, that may be true," Your father murmurs, a twinkle in his eye. "However, he would be a fool not to pick the most beautiful young woman his kingdom has to offer."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get rid of me!" You exclaim, the grin on your face betraying the fake outrage in your voice. You father laughs deeply, his deep rumble dissolving into a slough of hacking coughs.

As quickly as it came, the good mood is gone. You get to your feet and move to your father's shoulder. "That's sounding worse, Da," You murmur, fingers combing through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair.

"I'll live," You father rasps, clearing his throat once more. "I've been through worse, and it's yet to kill me."

Despite his assurances, you continue to worry, even as your father readies for bed. You make sure that he is settled comfortably in the one bed in the house, before you yourself retire to your pallet situated by the dying embers in the hearth. The night is sleepless, and when the sun begins to rise, and the roosters crow, you're scrubbing your face with cold water, sighing and the warped image of your face in the cracked silver mirror that hangs over the washbasin. Plum-colored smudges adorn your under eyes, and you have no face powder with which to cover them as the rich girls do.

Muttering curses under your breath, you search for your basket, and the coin purse that resides next to it. "I'm going to town, Da," You call as you exit the cottage. "I'll be back in a while." You hear a muted affirmation from your father in the back room, and take it as your cue to leave.

Your skirts wind around your legs as the breeze blows past, bringing with it the fresh smells of produce from the market. Your pace picks up almost of its own accord, your mouth watering at the thought of a leg of lamb for dinner, maybe a fresh piece of fruit. Townspeople already flood the main road leading up to the village square, and you take care to keep your basket and purse close by.

You are neck-deep into negotiations with the butcher when you hear it: the sound of a royal herald. Your stomach does an acrobatics routine as you hastily agree on a sum with the butcher, gathering the wrapped meat in your basket before heading for the center of town.

It's not hard to locate the herald. He is standing on a stack of boxes, to be above the gathered crowd. His garb is nicer than the average commoner, a sign of his station. Standing at the edge of the crowd, you've situated yourself under an awning for the shade, but you can hear the herald clear as day as he begins to speak.

"People of the kingdom, hear the words of your King! The Summons have been finished, and the selection has been made. Of all the women in the kingdom, ten will be brought to the palace to win the Prince's hand. These ten women are as follows: Ami Orund, Joan Bavent, Ysoria Rainecourt, Jennifer Atkins, Natale Parry, Sabine Vauville, Lydia Gueron, Floretia Eveque, Cyrila Tirel, and-"

Hearing your name roll off of a stranger's tongue is disconcerting, especially in this context. You lean back against the wall behind you, steadying yourself as the truth of the matter sets in. As the herald continues his speech, you tune him out, eyes scanning the crowd. Which woman would have wanted to take my place? You wonder, gripping your basket with whiote-knuckled tighness. Some people in the crowd are looking your way. In this little villiage below the castle, it is not uncommon for everyone to be at least semi-aquainted with each other. To your dismay, it appears there are quite a few aquaintances in the crowd.

Warmth creeps into your face as you edge around the crowd, just wanting to go home. People whisper as you pass, and you duck your head, walking all the faster.

Someone beats you there. Jenny stands in front of your door, face pale, apron wringing in her hands. You both gaze at each other in wordless shock, as the fact of the matter sets in. You invite her into the house with little preamble, to prepare for the ordeal to come.

tag list: (hope i did this right ;-;)

@adnauseum11 @the-californicationist @strawberrygato @marierg

#john price #john price x reader #writing #midieval #tagging is exhausting

70 notes · View notes

vixenpen · 8 months ago

Text

Hobie Brown loves black women (duh) but also (head canons)

because daddy is my latest obsession 🤭

Damn, I leave these tumblr streets for a year and yall out here wildin. It’s come to my attention that yall have the unmitigated gall, the glittering nerve to argue with black women about whether or not Hobie Brown likes black girls. Excuse me???? Does the black punk radical revolutionary from the SEVENTIES!!!! (Cuz yall keep forgetting he lives in 1970s London) like black women?!?!?!

Honey not only does he LOOOVE black women. He loves BLACK women. What do I mean when I say that?

Hobie loves soul sistas with sky high Afros, TWAs, shaved heads, close cut fades

The girls that can quote Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, bell hooks, and WEB Du Bois with equal conviction and knowledge

I’m talking fist to the sky, power to the people, say it loud I’m black and I’m proud, type tease

I’m talking they wearing all black, leather jackets with their black panther pins stuck to the lapel (and if you think I’m talking about the hero you ain’t black enough for this conversation)

I’m talking the black ladies with the barets that call all black men “my brotha” and all black women “my sistah”

The black women that keep that thang on em and ain’t ever gotta get ready

Hobie loves the loc’ed black girls and the turban wearing sisters

The girls who keep Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, or Langston Hughes on deck usually tucked into their woven knapsacks/leather messenger bags

The sage and incense burning girlies who cleanse their space and say a little prayer of protection on your journey

The orisha worshipping black girlies with alters in their windows and tarot cards on their bookshelf

The girlies that can guess your star sign based on your jaw line.

The girls that smell like cocoa butter with paint on their skirts

Hobie likes his fellow black fem punks with their spiked jewelry and shaved heads

The girlies pushing, shoving, and rioting during the mosh pits

The black girlies with the braid/Mohawk combos.

The girls stomping through the club in demonias with their piercings and black leather accessories

The girls with the drawn on angry eyebrows yet the kindest, gentlest smiles

The girls who prowl the record stores and flip off the shop owner that keeps following them.

The black girlies in the band who are front row and center wailing like Betty Davis and dancing like Tina Turner, a mic in hand or a guitar over her shoulder

Hobie loves the disco divas

The girlies in their sparkly bell bottoms killing it in the discos on Saturday nights

The girlies who think disco will never die

The funky divas and dance floor queens

The girls that audition for soul train every season and win.

The girls with the best record collection especially when it comes to party hits and speaking of parties

He loves the girls who are the first on the dance floor and the last to leave. The lives of the party and the queens of the kick backs

Hobie loves his pothead black girls that always have the good gas

His Mary Jane muses who are always a chill vibe and a good time

The black girls who always have snacks and gum on em cuz they’re always hungry and high.

With their red eyes and quick smiles.

He loves the black girls with a little dime bag and something “a little bit stronger if you need it”

And he loves his black girls black mixed with nothing but black. Two black parents, four black grandparents, the darker the berry the sweeter the juice. Yes he loves dark chocolate girls BUT he loves his black girls of all hues

Albino

Butter scotch

Mahogany

Blue-black

Hobie loves BLACK women

Yall please stop forgetting this man lived during the 70s and there is a very particular type of black woman that was around during the 70s

#hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie x black!reader #hobart brown #Hobie brown #across the spiderverse #atsv #headcanons

111 notes · View notes

cornley-amateur-drama-society · 14 days ago

Text

How Cornley Cast Members Spent Their 25th Birthdays

In honour of my 25th birthday being last week (10/24), here's my headcanons for how the Cornley members spent theirs. As this is me we're talking about, this got. Long. Also, I don't know the ins and outs of each character's canon besides what I picked up on in the show and on their character wikis, so please go through this with an open mind.

Chris — March 7

Oh… Oh, my love…

So he would've been recently out of uni, and I picture him immediately diving into any sort of theatre production he can

So, he's working at a local theatre just outside Cornley

(But nowhere near his home village because he doesn't want to deal with the complex feelings that accompany being an adult in and of his own right, but having Celia and Raymond treating him like he can't make his own decisions as if he's still thirteen-years-old)

But anyway. Back to his 25th, which I picture him being born sometime in the late winter/early spring, perhaps around the beginning of March. So for flavour, let's agree on March 7th.

It's, let's say, around ten or eleven at night, and it's been drizzling on and off the entire week (I am not fact-checking British weather for this post) and he's off rehearsal and had been planning on going out with some cast mates to a pub near the theatre.

When it came time to go, however, they were nowhere to be found.

Picture newly twenty-five-year-old Chris looking around the front foyer of the theatre, in his slightly too-big tweed coat and leather messenger bag thrown across his body. His hands gripping at the strap of the bag nervously as he waits to see if anyone will be arriving, and the gnawing realisation that no one is coming.

His eyes sticking to the floor as he walks to the pub himself, the rain more of a mist than anything else. He got there and picked a small table away from everybody else, and ordered a pint to start.

The rest of the night continued in that way, Chris getting pissed alone in the back of some random pub on his birthday.

He didn't get back to his flat until some time after two a.m., and passed out on the sofa, messenger bag on the floor with the strap loosely in his hand.

The contents were strewn about on accident, a result of his drunken struggle with his bag.

Robert — August 24

Robert's twenty-fifth was spent with his older brother Alex and younger sister Ellie.

Alex's wife Gabi, and their daughter Lucy, were away on a small holiday to Brighton and couldn't make it.

Despite their best efforts, Ellie managed to get her older brothers to go out for a pub crawl to celebrate.

In the middle of August, on a warm night, the Grove siblings went from pub to pub in Ellie's uni town.

The fourth pub they hit, called the Dog and Broom or something similar, is where he met Denise.

She was there on a hen do for a friend of hers she worked with at a small magazine.

Robert was instantly smitten with her, the way her black hair reflected the purple and pink and blue lights of the pub, the way her dark red lipstick stood out against the light brown of her skin.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew if he didn't talk to her, he would be thinking about it for the rest of his life. (Ugh, how dreadfully romantic of it all.)

So he pat his siblings on the shoulder and pushed away from the bar top to walk to where she was standing, waiting for refills for the group with another friend.

The two women looked up as he approached, and when blue eyes met dark brown, everything disappeared. (Cliché, I know) He vaguely remembers hearing her friend laughingly say something as she walked away with a tray of drinks, but Denise was already biting her lip in a shy smile, so he was a bit preoccupied.

(I cannot not believe that Robert isn't a secret romantic, esp based on how he broke down on stage during “The Spirit of Christmas”.)

The remaining hours of Robert's twenty-fifth were spent in flirtatious conversation with Denise and a promise of a coffee date later that week.

Dennis — May 2

Dennis' twenty-fifth was spent at the aquarium with some friends of his that he's known since Year Four.

They paraded him around the aquarium with a novelty “happy birthday” fish hat that they'd found somewhere specifically for this.

He was all for it, if we're going to be completely honest.

And the staff, for the most part, were happy to let them walk around with the obnoxious hat and homemade banner strung across his chest.

Dennis and his friends took enough pictures that when they developed them a few days later, even though they binned the rubbish ones, they had enough pictures left over for the scrapbook his Mum and Aunt Dorothy were making.

(This was not the first one they were doing for him, but as he'd got older, it really focused more on things like his graduation and shows and birthdays. It was nowhere near as detailed as his first few were when he was a boy.)

After their outing, they went to a birthday dinner at a restaurant that Dennis had been saying he wanted to go to, but had never had the time.

They had pre-arranged for there to be a whole song and dance, literally, when the server would bring the cake out at the end of the meal.

Dennis ended up leaving the restaurant with his friends and the phone number of one of the servers in his pocket.

(He and Emma would go on to date for about six months after, breaking up just after Hallowe'en.)

Sandra — March 7

So, she and Chris share a birthday.

(I'm sure you can tell where this is heading…)

She and Chris were in the same company, but she had a larger part in this show than he did, and the two of them really didn't have any scenes together, so they just knew each other in passing.

(The same way you know someone in one of your classes, but have only talked to them in group discussions, and even then, not that much, really.)

But she, being Sandra, is a magnetic person and knows how to work a room.

And even though she didn't have a lead role, she still got on with the leading cast members.

So much so that, when they found out it was her birthday a few days before, they promised to take her out after rehearsals.

I don't think that she's cruel enough, even as a mid-twenty-year-old, to have let the cast take her out if she'd known that they promised to go out with Chris, so she didn't know about any of it. Not even that they're birthday buddies.

She didn't notice the cloud of guilt that hung over some of the cast members as they walked to a bar on the north end of Cornley square, a bit more high-end for their budget, but hey. You only turn twenty-five once, right?

She's just flush with excitement about going out, since the last few years she'd been too busy and focused with/on other things. She had mainly celebrated her birthday with a friend or two, or whomever she was roommates with at the time, by drinking some wine and re-watching movies like Pride & Prejudice (2005) or The Importance of Being Earnest (2002).

Once they got there, a posher place called The Thistle's Roundel, the cast promised Sandra that she wouldn't be paying for a drink tonight. They had her covered.

She was touched, though she didn't take outright advantage of their promise. After all, they still had rehearsal tomorrow and the last thing she needed was a hangover.

But she's not a saint, so she did indulge a little in the drinking.

There was dance music being played by a live DJ, and a space in the middle with coloured, light-up tiles to comprise a dance floor.

She and several of the other gals in the show spent quite a lot of time on it, laughing about how the blues and greens of the floor would make them look haunted, but the oranges and pinks made them look sunburnt.

It was on one of her water breaks that she made eye contact with a guy a few seats away from where she was standing by the bar.

He wasn't drop-dead fit like Hugh Grant or Jude Law, but there was something about his smile that made her cheeks flush pink for a reason other than her dancing.

After a few minutes of glances and coy smiles, he made his way over to her, breaking away from the two men that he was with.

She sat her water down on the bright purple napkin and subtly wiped her hand on her skirt, drying it off from the condensation and sweat.

Once he made it, he stuck out a hand with a smile. “I'm Jonathan.”

She took it, a matching smile blooming on her face. “Sandra.”

Annie — November 24

Annie spent her 25th with her partner, Sher; her older sister, Alice; and Alice's partner, Bren, along with their parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Twilloil took the four of them to an ice skating version of the ever-classic The Nutcracker.

It has been a tradition for the Twilloils to go see a performance of The Nutcracker every year around Christmastime. When the sisters were little, they took part in community ballet classes, which is why the tradition was started.

(Mrs. Amita Twilloil would've taken them regardless of them being in ballet or not. She adored Tchaikovsky's music, and was a professional ballet dancer when she was younger.)

(Alice was dancing in the role of a Snowflake for three years in a row, and Annie was a Sugarplum Fairy once.)

Annie had been dating Sher for a little over two years by that point, the two of them having met in an improv class a few years before, and started a solid friendship.

Sher, actually, was the one who introduced Alice and Bren on a blind date.

But, I digress. Back to the birthday celly, lol

The Nutcracker on Ice was something that everyone was looking forward to. Everyone all bundled up in their coats and scarves and gloves, huddling togerther against the rail of the outdoor ice skating rink.

Hot chocolate vendors hovered at the edges of the crowd, selling spiced nuts and baked sweet potatoes as well.

The sounds of the crowd while the orchestra warmed up gave the Twilloils and their guests the warm feeling of Christmas in their hearts.

Annie ended the night of her 25th with a snog under multicoloured fairy lights decorating one of the lampposts along the pavement.

Max — June 15

Max spent his 25th on his family's country estate with his family, cousins and nieces and nephews running about over the Bennett grounds.

Because the Bennett family is so large, they have a tradition of celebrating all the birthdays of a given month at the beginning of that month.

(This tradition started with Max's great-grandmother after the War. It eased her mind to have all the family with her after the loss of her husband and eldest two sons.)

Other than himself, the month of June in the Bennett family had the birthdays of Aunt Elsie who was celebrating her 67th; Uncle Joseph who was celebrating his 56th; Margot, his older cousin who was celebrating her 34th; Adelaide, his younger cousin who was celebrating her 22nd; Marcus, another younger cousin who was celebrating his 18th; and the twins June and May, his nieces, who were celebrating their 12th.

The day was spent with various events around the estate, such as the younger kids playing around in the swingset and fort setup, and some of the teenagers taking the horses for a ride.

The older members of the family sat under the shaded patio with their spouses (if they were present), drinking tea and other, potentially more alcoholic, drinks.

Those Bennetts who were in their twenties through forties were found in various places throughout the estate. Several were with the younger kids; these Bennetts were the parents of some of the children there.

Others joined in on horseback riding, taking one of the trails with a drink as well. These brave members were almost all in their late-thirties and in their forties.

Max hung out with his siblings—Hugh, his older brother by three years, and Caroline, his older sister by two years. They were also joined by Adelaide and Marcus, and Jax, Hugh's eight-month-old son.

The day ended with a large birthday cake with everyone's names for the month of June, and a tonne of presents and cards that were opened and gushed over.

His Nana Margery owned the Bennett Estate, and since it was so large, everyone was able to stay the night there in the country, if they were so able.

Max's Uncle Charles (40), Aunt Angela (53), cousin Algernon (32), and cousin Nikki (24) were unable to stay as they had early shifts at the hospital in the morning.

All in all, it was a typical Bennett birthday event, and Max was content to be celebrating with everyone.

Trevor — September 2

Trevor hated his birthday.

Hated celebrating it, hated being reminded of it, hated everything about it.

Every year, something seemed to go wrong on his birthday.

He broke his arm when he turned 12. His girlfriend at the time turned out to be cheating on him with some posh prick in the Year above who played rugby, and he found out when he saw them kissing behind the bleachers at the pitch on his 15th. His Grandad passed away on his 18th. He found out he was supposed to be a twin on his 23rd.

And those were just the ones that sprung to mind instantly when he thought about September 2nd.

So, suffice to say, Trevor rarely ever discussed his birthday with anyone who didn't already know it.

He was already involved in Cornley's stage crew program at this point, and had been working with the theatre since he was old enough to.

He liked to work with his hands, but he also loved learning the ins and outs of how a theatre worked. Especially the lighting tracks and cues.

This past year, he had been working as an unofficial assistant to the Lighting Manager, an old man named Ralph who reminded him of his Grandad in a way.

The show that they were working on was for the Children's Theatre Program, a stage version of Frog and Toad.

Opening night was September 2nd.

When Trev got to the theatre, he found out that Ralph had called-in sick.

(He wasn't, really, but his granddaughter was in the show, and he wanted to be able to watch little Izzy on stage without having to worry about timing things right.)

So, Trevor was promoted on the spot that night to Lighting Manager.

He took to it like a duck takes to water, helped on, of course, by the fact that he'd been learning the cues now for several weeks.

Though he was slightly nervous, the show went off with only a few minor hitches that were more to do with the kids being kids and waving to their parents whilst on stage, or getting their costumes caught on props, than anything serious.

There was a standing ovation for the kids, and Trevor found himself genuinely smiling and cheering them on from the booth. The Sound Manager, Missy, next to him was gushing over her son's titular performance as Toad.

After curtain call, as Trevor was cleaning up the booth and making sure things were set for the Saturday showings, Ralph came back and introduced little Izzy to him.

Izzy glowed at Trevor's review of her roles as Cattail #3 and Egret #2, her frizzy red hair only making her blush that much more vibrant.

On their way to the rest of their family, Ralph and Izzy stopped and gave Trevor a dark blue envelope, his name written on it in Ralph's hand in silver ink.

Ralph winked at him and touched the side of his nose, wishing Trevor a goodnight, and he and Izzy disappeared into the crowd.

Trevor had a small, slightly confused frown on his face, but he opened the envelope on the spot.

Inside, there was a "happy birthday" card that was signed by the rest of the crew and Izzy. Little frogs and toads and other show related doodles appeared in various spots of the card throughout. Some were obviously done by the wee girl, but others he recognized as being done by his fellow crewmates.

It's still on display in Trevor's flat to this day.

Vanessa — October 31

Hallowe'en baby!!! We love to see it <333

Soz, the favouritism LEAPED out of me, lmao.

I know Hallowe'en isn't as big a deal across the pond, but this is my headcanon so fuck it, we ball <3

Nessa spent the morning of her 25th chaperoning her niece Alyson's class Hallowe'en party at school.

Aly insisted her Auntie Nessie dressed up as the Loch Ness monster, and since Aly was eight, she won the argument.

Nessa showed up at Aly's Primary school at the same time as the other chaperones, slightly embarrassed about the stuffed felt head on top of her own head.

That lasted until she saw Aly's friend's Mum wearing what looked like the child of a clown and old French mime.

The combination of black and white colouring on a clownfit did a lot to help her mood.

Aly greeting her with a delighted scream of, "AUNTIE NESSIE!" while wearing a mini scuba diver outfit lifted it even more.

The party at the school was fun, all things considered.

The Primary teacher for Aly's class, Mr. Thoms, had arranged for the kids to decorate Jack-O-Lantern cookies as one of the classroom activities.

Aly suckered her Auntie into helping her decorate, making a winking Jack-O-Lantern with a sharp-toothed smile.

After that, the Primary school had a trick-r-treat event in which all the kids got to walk around from classroom to classroom to get candy and show off their costumes. Nessa took many photos for her brother and sister-in-law, David and Wendy, of Aly going around with her little plastic mummy's head.

The school day ended early, and Vanessa took her niece back home to her flat. Aly was going to hang out with her until David came to get her after work.

Vanessa, as an early 25th birthday gift to herself, had got a new cat a week and a half ago.

The cat was older, around seven or eight by the vet's guess, and she was a lovely dark tortoiseshell colour. Her orginal name was lame, in Vanessa's eyes, and she was always rather a fan of Shakespeare.

So, despite the cat being a middle-aged lady (in cat years, of course) Nessa named her Othello.

Aly adored Thello, and the affection was reciprocated. As soon as Nessa's niece's voice was heard outside, the two Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway gals heard Othello's loud meowing.

The cat curled up underneath the chair that Aly was sitting in at the dining table as she worked on her homework, purring loud enough to be heard from a few feet away. Nessa smiled fondly at them and took candid photo to send into the family groupchat.

After David came to get his daughter, Vanessa got changed out of her Loch Nessa cosume and into a pair of fuzzy pyjama bottoms with a comfy long-sleeved shirt and a dressing gown thrown over top it all.

She planned to spend her 25th with Thello, her favourite takeaway from that Indian place down the way, and a marathon of Midsomer Murders. She had a cupcake and a pint of ice cream in her freezer for afterward.

Yes, Vanessa's 25th birthday would be spent with her cat and feeling cozy and taking time for herself.

Jonathan — May 18

Jonathan, on his 25th birthday, was at an event that his company was hosting, ringing in the new summer catalog.

He didn't really have a choice in going or not going because his two best friends, Ben and Davy whom he's known since they were doing kids' modeling, dragged him to it.

While Jono himself stuck mainly to hand and wrist modeling, Ben and Davy had delved into full-body photographing. Ben tended to be called up for more athletic shoots, while Davy was more elegance and class.

As a wrist model, Jono could do any of the above and then some.

But he worked with these people nearly 24/7. He just wanted one day, just one, where he could not have to see Mandie, Brandie, Sandie, and all the other -ie's he worked with.

Davy and Ben promised him that he'd only need to stay there for an hour before they'd skive and go on a mini-pub crawl.

He was holding them to that no matter what.

But that night, Elsie Harris, a writer for an online magazine who sometimes worked with him, was also there.

He'd fancied her for several months now, and she seemed to feel the same. He wasn't positive, but Sandie and Davy kept pushing the two of them together, and Elsie didn't look all that upset by it.

Once he saw her, Ben and Davy knew that any chances of the mini-pub crawl happening were over.

They still smiled and chatted with her when she and Jono came over, of course. Though the two men were disappointed about the way the night changed, they were thrilled to see her leaning into Jono's space.

And they were even more thrilled several minutes later when Jonathan said something about grabbing their stuff and heading out.

Ben looked at Elsie and then back to the birthday boy with a question in his eyes, and Jonathan answered, telling his best friends that he had mentioned what they were planning on doing, and that she wanted to come with them.

She'd never been on a pub crawl on purpose before, and she wanted to try it out.

The more the merrier is how Davy took that news, and the four of them set off into the night.

Elsie, as it turned out, knew how to hold her drink and did so, drinking Davy under the table accidentally.

Ben jokingly complained about having to carry Davy's deadweight back to their flat, but when Elsie apologised, he brushed it off.

Ben asked the bartender to call a cab for him and Davy because David was in no way fit to continue partying.

When Elsie and Jonathan saw them off, Ben and Davy drunkenly wished Jono a happy birthday for the nth time that night, getting into the cab. Jonathan ended up having to tell the cabbie where to go, seeing as the three of them lived in the same flat.

Elsie and Jonathan ended up going back to her place and celebrating his 25th a... let's say in a different way.

He woke up the next morning with her hair spread across his chest, and their hands locked together.

**Bonus**

Lucy — April 17

Lucy spent her twenty-fifth birthday with the Cornley Amateur Drama Society, rehearsing for A Trial to Watch.

They had just started to act it out on stage, reciting their lines rather than reading from the book, and she was excited.

She loved working with Cornley and her Uncle Robert, even if her Mum and Dad weren't especially keen on the idea.

(Which, to be fair, was understandable. The last two times she'd been on stage with them, she'd suffered from several broken bones and two concussions.)

But Uncle Robert, along with Max and Chris, assured them that since all she had to do was simply walk on stage and sit in a jury box, surrounded by several other people, the possibility of her breaking anything or getting a concussion was nearly impossible.

She wasn't a child any more, of course, but even though her parents were divorced and frequently disagreed on many things, the one thing they always agreed on was her safety.

The rehearsal went smoothly, even on Dennis' behalf which was a surprise. He hadn't really forgotten any of his lines, though he still did mess some phrases up, but he did well.

They needed to work on physical cues, but it would be easier with the set when it was built.

After rehearsal, the cast took her out to a pub that was near the theatre for drinks and a show.

It was drag night at the pub, and Lucy adored every second of it.

Several queens flirted with Chris, much to the casts' general amusement, and a king or two did hit on Sandra and Max, much to the casts' great amusement.

After the show, Lucy received gifts from each member, and she may have cried a little a lot into her cocktail.

Her Uncle Robert took her back to his and Dennis' flat after she had one too many and started to fall asleep at the table.

Robert set her on his bed, made sure her phone was plugged in to charge overnight, grabbed some pain meds for her head in the morning and a water bottle, and set it on the bedside table.

He texted his brother Alex and his ex-sister-in-law Gigi and let them know that their daughter was fine and would be sleeping off the celebrations at his flat.

He made sure that his niece was safe and on her side, just in case, before going to the couch in the living room and piling pillows and blankets on it to sleep.

Lucy woke up the next morning, her official second day of being 25, to the sounds of Robert and Dennis chatting in the kitchen accompanied by the smell of French toast and coffee.

(She was also joined in bed by a headache, but thankfully the meds Robert left out the night before were right there, and she solved that issue rather quickly.)

#heretical texts #cads #chris bean #max bennett #vanessa wilcock-wynn-carroway #dennis tyde #sandra wilkinson #robert grove #trevor watson #lucy grove #jonathan harris #annie twilloil #alice twilloil #denise amin #elsbeth harris #in my mind elsbeth/elsie is jonathan's exwife who is also the mother of his daughter #the goes wrong show #birthday headcanons

15 notes · View notes

pineapplerightsideupcake · 11 months ago

Note

how do you as a bisexual come to terms with the fact that the trans community has literally made homophobia much worse. ppl are proudly being openly homophobic and when you dig deeper it’s actually the “queers” and transgenders who think kids can transition who they have a problem with (not all of course but a good chunk) I believe ppl who wouldn’t otherwise be homophobic are being homophobic bc of the trans community. I use to really struggle w internalized homophobia, and still do, it was only this past year where I came to terms w it and told my sister/close friends. I wish it could be just a normal thing to be gay and you’d be left alone, I believe we were on a trajectory for that. But now things have gotten worse, and thanks to the gender nonsense, openly bigoted ppl (especially religious) are being praised and promoted. All this bc of trans activism. I don’t even care anymore about what they do to themselves, but the damage they’ve done to actual gay ppl is insane and we’re already facing the backlash. I’m not sure if we’ll ever live in a world where being lgb isn’t a big deal.

Honestly? I think the benefit of pushing 40 is that I have a wider lens through which to view activism. And I feel the same way about LGB rights as I do about women’s rights.

Which is to say, every time a big gain is won, there is backlash. There are parts of society that get worse as the culture tries desperately to adjust around the new changes.

Men today are more porn sick and sexually aggressive than 20 years ago. In some ways. People are polling less positively about the LGTBQI+ but how much of that backlash is really directed at the LGB? Are polling groups even bothering to distinguish between LGB and “queer” people?

Let me tell you what life was like as a bisexual teen in 2003. Let’s go back 20 years and I can tell you the world has changed so much for the better. 20 years ago gay rights activists started really making headway towards civil rights guarantees. Suddenly middle Americans had to confront that gay people were among them and not just haunting bars and bathhouses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such rigid gender norm adherence as I did back then. Men couldn’t wear pastels or purple or pink. Guys got called gay for having a messenger bag. There is an entire episode of “Friends” about it. Sussing out the Gays Among Us became obsessive. Emo culture was a direct response to how frantic straight people were to appear duly heterosexual. TV shows still depicted us as degenerate freaks if they depicted us at all. A few HBO shows that were soft core porn more than anything and Will and Grace was all anybody had. Shows like Xena and Buffy got away with lesbians because men said out loud that hot women kissing was fine. These were the early days of straight men having open lesbian fetishizes. We couldn’t get married. We could get fired for being gay.

For women there was no movement to normalize our natural bodies. I’d spend hours shaving myself smooth. Not wearing makeup was unheard of. Cellulite wasn’t even a word I knew let alone knew was normal. There weren’t a million online resources teaching women that vaginal discharge is normal and I grew up thinking (as did many others) that it was a private shame.

And as far as MeToo stuff? It’s easy to feel defeated in the moment but nobody was using the word ‘consent’ in my day. Men getting women drunk was a joke. Men pushing for sex was a joke. Men calling a woman that had one too many dates or boyfriends a slut was normal. Three of my male friends pinned me down on several occasions and took turns rubbing their dicks on me to completion.

The therapist I told said I “needed to work on my boundaries”. The word rape never even entered my mind. Rape was something a stranger with a knife did. It wasn’t something your best friends did to you and then laughed about. It isn’t something you submitted to because fawn and freeze are real fear responses. No one told me my friend forcing my hand down his pants was abuse because I continued to go over his house, didn’t I? No one told me about red flags or cycles of abuse.

And the older women you told rolled their eyes. What I endured was so mild compared to many other women. Men forcing themselves onto women was just normal.

I can’t tell you what it means to me to see so many young women calling it out. Refusing to stay in a bad situation. Refusing to date entirely sometimes. Women sharing red flags and advice to stay not just safe but thriving.

Don’t get me wrong- the current gender movement is regressive and dangerous. I’m not saying it’ll all work itself out. Activism is constant work but things ARE getting better. They really are, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. 💜

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist community #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #radical feminists please interact #radical feminists please touch

42 notes · View notes

roseyhearts5 · 1 year ago

Text

Rizzy reo

(Hi guysssss this is my first work so im sorry if this is bad 😭 feel free to let me know how to improve 😋😋 -bootyhoe)

(warnings‼️‼️ no pronouns are used for Y/n in this story but it is said that they wear a skirt in their uniform you can of course just say pants if you feel comfortable with that instead anddd that’s it ENJOYY ❤️❤️)

Y/n’s POV———————————————————————

06:37 AM

I walk down a long sidewalk. I’m not the most familiar with it but i go this way when I need it. It’s an early Tuesday morning and it was just so difficult to get up this morning. I’m in dire need of a latte right now. I was up all night studying for an upcoming exam and kept on getting distracted thinking about a certain purple haired boy. Oh how I loved his purple hair, it suited him really well. Reo Mikage. I’ve had a crush on the guy for a few months now. I stop in front of a cafe I usually visit when I have a rough time in the morning, I swing the glass door open and walk inside the warmth hitting my face immediately making me feel cozy.

I greet the girl behind the cash register, she looked a little older than me, somewhere in her early twenty’s. I give her my order and pay, after, I go sit at a small table with 2 chairs facing each other. I pull out one of the chairs and hang my beige messenger bag on the back of it, after I do I sit down and pull out my phone. It read 06:44 as the time. I didn’t have to be at my school till 07:10 and it was only a five minute walk from the cafe. I actually had time to enjoy my latte and it will be a lot more enjoyable considering the cold weather. “Y/n!” I hear one of the other girls shout out my name and I stand up to go get my drink. I thank her and take my drink off the counter and go back to where my bag was. I sit for a few minutes scrolling on my phone and taking sips of my drink here and there. I check the time again. “06:56.. I guess it’s time to start walkin’ towards that stupid ass school.” I Mutter lowly to myself.

I stand up and push the seat in. I open my bag and toss my phone into it. I sling it over my shoulder and take a final sip of my latte then walk over to throw it away. I brush off my uniform. I don’t mind the uniform we have to wear to school, the black skirt is cute and I like the checkers in my top but they’re hidden underneath my winter jacket right now. I wear basic new balances but I switch it up here and there, not like it matters to much anyway. The stockings I wear underneath my skirt are only for winter, I wear knee high socks any other season. I wave goodbye and say thank you to the women before walking out of the door. I pop my AirPods into my ears and play some music to keep me entertained on my short walk.

————————————————————————

07:02

I take my time switching my shoes into my school ones and walk into my classroom. I see a few people here and there. I wave at a few of my friends. We’re all sadly separated me in the back and the two of them in the front. And don’t get me wrong it sucked i didn’t sit with them but my seat partner was good enough for me. It was my crush, Reo. He wasn’t here yet. I didn’t expect him to be. He always comes into the class with a minute or 2 to spare with his best friend Nagi. I slowly take out my books and a few pencils from my bag before placing them neatly on my desk. I pick up my mechanical pencil, pump out some led, and draw little hearts and stars on my desk. “Hey Y/n! How was your morning? Sure was cold out today huh.”

I hear the oh so familiar voice of my seat mate and feel the tips of my ears heating up. “Hey Reo, yeah it was really cold this morning I love winter but my hands were freezing my whole walk here! My morning wasn’t the best but I’ll manage.”

I let the answer roll off my tongue to the handsome boy who was now facing me in his seat, our knees touching. “Oh? Your hands, are they still cold?”

He raises an eyebrow at me, “Well..yeah, not as bad but they’re still kind cold.”

I mumble, as I place my hands on top of one another on my desk. “Here, I wore gloves to school, let me warm your hands up.” I hear what Reo says and my eyes dart from him to my hands that were now enclosed into his bigger ones.

I feel not only the tips of my ears this time, but my whole face heat up. Reo rubs his warm, calloused fingers against my softer ones. I stared at our hands for a few seconds and slowly bring my eyes up to his face again.

He was also looking at our hands but he seems to notice me look up because he looked up into my eyes with his deep purple ones, a smile plastered on his face. He leans over to me our faces closer together as he places his mouth by my ear. “Are your hands alright now or do you want me to keep warming them up?” I can hear my heart beating loudly in my ears as I gulp not knowing how to answer.

I hear Reo start giggling next to my ear as he pulls away from my face still keeping my hands in his. “I’m just messing with you, Y/n. I wouldn’t mind though. If you wanted to keep our hands like this I mean .”

Am I hearing right? Did he just say he wouldn’t mind? Doesn’t matter now. This is a good opportunity for me to shot my shot with my crush and I’m not going to let it go to waste. I nod to Reo and say, “I wouldn’t mind either. If you wanted to hold hands a little longer I mean.” I mimic his words, a smile growing on my face.

He returns the gesture and mutters a little “Good” before facing the teacher in the front of the class.

Our hands were still together underneath our desks. I’m definitely not going to be wearing gloves to school if it means I get to hold hands with Reo again.

#reo mikage #reo x reader #blue lock #bllk reo #reo mikage x reader

35 notes · View notes

docheros · 8 months ago

Text

50s customs, habits and flirts

Pairing: Thaís Costa/Selenne Sverchzt

"Because of I.R.I.S's negligence, Tae ended up in the 1950s. Since there is no confirmation of a return, she gains her life working with what she knows best: differentiating humans from doppelgangers as a guard… in a building. Even with everything going wrong, maybe living in the 50s isn't so bad…"

Taglist: @the-pastel-kitsune @arthyritis @glass-trash-bab @uhhbeans

A/N: you guys WILL read my crossover. i'll probably post more of them. probably

Tae groaned, throwing her back into the swivel chair in a dramatic movement, looking up at the cubicle ceiling and contemplating all of her life choices so far.

Of all the bizarre things I.R.I.S made her go through, that was certainly the worst of all — not the most bizarre, but certainly the most inconvenient.

She breathed in the chilling air, huffing one last time and standing up from her place. After one last check of the list of who entered that afternoon and getting everything she needed, she left the small room and locked it.

The weather was chill and a light wind passed by her neck; snow still covered the pass, although not as big as in November or December. She kicked a little white mound, clinging tighter to her messenger bag, and walked towards her block – the workers' block.

— Excuse me, neighbor?

A sweet, slightly sensual voice called her. She turned around, a tall woman with wavy hair was standing there, slender arms behind her long torso and a shy smile on her full lips. One of the model twins, the one in the red dress — she always said good afternoon to her.

— Ah, good afternoon — she analyzed her from top to bottom, confirming that she was a human and the twin she was thinking — Selenne, am I right?

— Absolutely! — she smiled more, closing her makeup-covered eyes for a moment — you’re good at this!

— I have training. For the doppelgangers, I mean. Differentiating such beautiful twins takes a little more work — she chuckled a little remembering the ALTRs she dealt with daily, not noticing Selenne’s pink cheeks — can I help you with something, miss?

— Oh, yes, yes, I… — she looked away at her white heels, as white as snow — ...would you be able to accompany me to my apartment? I just arrived, and with this wave of doppelgangers...

Tae frowned at the girl.

— Miss — she sighed — you know that for this I’ll need your ID and your entry request, yes?

— Yes, yes, of course — she swallowed hard, pulling them both out of her little bag.

After analyzing both — a bit unwillingly, more as a formality than out of necessity — she handed them back, a smile on her face.

— Silly girl — she chuckled again, offering her arm — don’t be late anymore, okay? It makes mine and your life easier.

Selenne blushed and agreed, taking her arm. The warmth of the leather jacket and the slight sensation of her defined muscles were comforting.

— Thaís, right?

— Thaís, correct.

— So, Miss Thaís, how long have you been here?

— A short time — she shrugged — and I hope to stay a short time too.

— Oh, my… — she smiled sadly — I’ll miss you.

— Very kind of you, miss, but don't worry. The same way I arrived, you won't even notice when I leave — she stopped in front of F01-04 — Delivered, miss.

Selenne let go, walking to the door with a little less grace than necessary for a model, and unlocked it.

— Thank you very much, Thaís. Um... — she smiled shyly, leaning on the door frame — Would you like to enter for a while? I can make you some coffee... My sister won’t be home until tomorrow, so...

Tae’s hands in the jacket pockets and ears slowly warmed up, certainly not from the cold, and she raised her eyebrows. A smirk slowly appeared on her face.

She didn't really understand the customs and habits of the 50s, that's a fact.

But women flirting with her, she understood that.

#irisona #i'm writing!!#selenne sverchzt #yeah.......... tagging her #tnmn fandom and selenne enjoyers don't look at me

10 notes · View notes

slutforsnow · 1 year ago

Text

I swear im trying for chapter 6 of The Blue Note 😔 My fyp isnt giving more astv edits 🥲 anyways, to feed the twilight community im here to offer

✨️A JASPER X OC FIC✨️

A Cowboy's Dream

Character info:

Name: Eliana (el-e-anna) Smith

Nicknames: Eli (El-e), Ana, Silly, Star Girl

Insults: Accident, Freak, Weirdo, r-slur

Age: 17

Birthday: April 6th

Blood type: O-

Mental illness/disorder: Autism

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Gender: Female she/her

Backstory: Eliana was born in with a semi-normal family. She had a father, Michael, and a mother, Terra. When Eli had turned about 6 months old when Michael realized he was gay and wanted a divorce. Terra went along with it, as she was a closeted lesbian. She couldn't stand being in a marriage with a man, so once the divorce was finalized, Michael and Terra stayed friends but went to live on their lives. Terra kept Eliana, as Michael wasn't sure that traveling in a van would be safe for a 6 month old, and met her later wife -Vanessa- when Ana was 3. They got married on Eli's birthday, with her permission of course, and have given Eliana the world and more that a girl could ask for while living in Forks, Washington. Michael comes to visit Eliana for special days just whenever she wants to see him because Terra and Vanessa decided that it'd be good for her to have connection to her father, despite calling him "Uncle Mike." Eliana was diagnosed with autism at 7 years old after she had a meltdown about having to sleep on silk sheets in a hotel that the 3 women were staying at for a trip.

She's lived in Forks her entire life and doesn't mind the quietness or rain because at night, when the rain clears, she see the stars and often draws pictures out whatever shape(s) she sees in them.

START NOTE: IM AUTISTIC AND CAN RECLAIM THE R SLUR. I WILL AVOID USING IT AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE SO IT MAY ONLY POP UP 1 OR 2 TIMES. If people are uncomfortable, I'll remove the slur from the story entirely <3

First Meeting

"Do I not look Italian-?" Eli asked, laughing as Mike was in shock learning the autistic member of the group was Italian.

"No, you look white-!! Like, white white." Mike protested as Eliana walked with Bella to her truck.

"Bye bye, Mikey~!" She called as Bella shook her head and ruffled Eliana's dual colored hair.

"So, I'm guessing you and Mikey are close?" Bella questioned as Eliana moved closer to her to avoid bumping into the Cullens.

"Eehhhh, if you wanna call teasing each other like siblings close because you're both only children then yes...? Besides, we grew up neighbors, so we see each other every day and let me tell you- being surrounded by loud neurotypicals hurts like hell."

"Really?" Bella looked up at Eliana as the smaller female sat on the hood of the car. "I thought they were ok- a bit better than the people back in Arizona."

"Ehhh, depends on the person. Since I'm autistic, and I don't speak for every autistic person, I have sensory issues meaning I can't handle super loud crowds or friend groups. But they were my only friends, so I sucked it up as best as I could and dealt with it. You, however, aren't autistic and don't really mix with the loud crowd and tend to avoid them as much as possible," Eliana explained pulling a marker out of her patch-filled messenger bag and started to draw stars along her left arm.

"Oh.. that makes sense, yeah," Bella replied after a moment, watching Eliana draw on herself. Throughout the day, Bella noted that Eli would do this whenever a certain blonde was around. According to Jessica, Eliana has had a thing for one of the mysterious Cullens- Jasper. Yet, he was seemingly taken by Alice. It hurt Eliana, so she took to drawing on herself to avoiding staring at him and causing drama.

Yet, every so often, Jasper would catch himself staring at her and he looked away, attempting, and failing, to not be caught.

The reason why the pair did this was because Jasper saved her life exactly 3 years ago today.

"Are you serious dude? The Freak?" A student inquired, laughing his ass off as Eli walked passed, clutching her books and not noticing the 5 squares of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shirt.

"Yeah! I mean, besides, it's not like anyone's going to stand up for the retard and won't it be awesome to humiliate it in front of the whole school?" The student's friend spoke up, grinning and seeing Eliana walk to class faster to avoid being seen crying out of distress.

Later that day, Eli had forgotten all about the worry of being humiliated. She felt safe and at peace. Besides, she had gotten to talk to one of her more mysterious classmates, Rosalie, today and she promised to help Eli get a good hair-do that would make her feel happy.

Life felt perfect and completely worry-free... until one of her bullies kicked her in the back and caused her to trip down the stairs of the building and fall into the wet pavement.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and hugging her ribs as blood ran down her face from her nose and her head spun in dizziness. She was in so much pain that she didn't process a car come barreling down to her until she heard a large crash and a familiar voice yell.

Two sets of hands pulled her up, eliciting a cry of pain from the younger as pressure was put onto her right foot. One of the 'strangers' whom had helped her up, scooped her up bridal style as she began to fall in and out of consciousness.

After a few hours had gone by, Eliana woke up, groaning.

"Ah, I see you're awake, Eliana. You gave us a scare there," a gentle and friendly voice said earning a tiny smile from the teen.

"Hi, Dr. Carlisle..." She groaned out, putting a hand to her head and flinching in the process.

"Hi, dear," he greeted, sympathetically and gently running his hand through her long bright blonde hair. The doctor cared deeply for her and she loved him like he was her dad. "Can you tell me what happened this time?"

"I- uhmmm... I don't think I remember a lot of it..." She told him, honestly and shrugging a tad. Carlisle merely smiled reassuringly.

"It's alright, you don't have to try and remember all of it now, but would you be able to give me a gist of what happened?" He questioned, sitting in one of the rolly stools while checking her heartbeat.

"Uhmm... I think I tripped down the stairs... and then hit my head really hard, but I don't remember anything after that," She told him, trying to focus on the light he was using to check her eyes.

"You tripped? Eli... these injuries don't typically come from tripping down the stairs- accident prone or not," Carlisle started, looking at her and she moved her gaze to her hands. "Are you sure someone didn't kick you down the stairs or anything?"

Eliana tensed and stayed quiet. She didn't want the senior to get in trouble, but her silence did confirm that someone did kick her down the stairs.

"Eli..? Come on, you can't stay quiet for this, honey. Jasper and Rosalie already told Chief Swan everything that they know and he's waiting to talk to you downstairs, as he's wanting to know if your mothers will press charges against whomever hurt you and, apparently, tried to run you over."

"He's gonna kill me if I say anything though..." Eli buried her face into her knee that she could move and groaned audibly.

"But he also could be behind bars. Freedom from him, Eliana, wouldn't that be nice?" Ana paused for a moment and nodded a bit, earning a kind smile from Carlisle.

However, before Carlisle could continue, one of the Cullens entered the room with Eliana's stuff. This one must've been Jasper, due to the fancy shirt he wore and his wavy/curly blonde locks were pushed out of his face that as Rosalie had described.

"Ah, Jasper, here with Eliana's things. Thank you, son," He said as Jasper sat her bag by her shoes and nodded, then went to leave, not making eye contact with either.

"Hey, Jasper-?.. uhm... Thanks.. to you and the other person who helped," Eliana called. Jasper had froze at the door when she called his name. He'd never heard it said so... kindly and softly before. There was no sound of reassurance or manipulation behind it- just pure gratitude and the blonde could sense that from her, even without his power.

Partially turning to face her, he smiled at her kindly.

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'm just glad to see you're not bleedin too bad," He said to her, with his Southern accent coming out before leaving the room. This left Carlisle chuckling softly at his son for sneaking in a thank-you to her for not causing him to go feral and Eliana completely in love with him.

#jasper hale #major jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock hale #jasper whitlock #jasper twilight #jasper cullen #canon x oc #twilight fanfiction #twilight x oc #fanfiction #twilight saga #eventual smut #vampire boy #confederate soldier #major #parental carlisle

31 notes · View notes

primeluxhub · 2 months ago

Text

Shop the latest Wallets For Women Online! Discover stylish, chic designs that blend fashion with functionality. Find your perfect accessory today!

#Women's Fashion Backpack #Mens Messenger Bag #Fashion Backpack for Ladies #Short Bags for Men #Stylish New Brand Bags #Large Travel Bags #New Style Bags #Brand Messenger Bags #Versace Crystal Perfume #Fragrance perfume #Versace Crystal Noir stores #Best Perfume Collections #Buy Burberry Perfume #All Fragrance Brands #Anti Wrinkle Cream #Skin Care Product #face care products #Eye Wrinkle Cream #beauty care products

1 note · View note

self-loving-vampire · 1 year ago

Note

the "cool girl" monologue?

It gets pretty long but:

Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much!

Note that the character who is saying this stuff is kind of unhinged and extremely resentful about her relationship. She doesn't seem to be much of a fan of other women, and she also doesn't seem to have the healthiest view of men for that matter.

Anyway, a lot of people have taken this villain monologue at face value and started judging real life people based on it.

If they see a conventionally attractive woman talking about how much she likes to eat or play video games or whatever it is assumed to just be a performance for men. Like those preferences are unnatural and forced in women (but of course no one seems to doubt men who say or do these things nearly as much, their interest is considered automatically legitimate).

And as a result there's some people out there who seem to unironically believe that having gender-nonconforming interests is internalized misogyny.

On one hand I find this whole thing amusing because I am both a narcissist and a less crass version of the character type described (loving food, being a pervert, gaming, etc. while also being hot. Not big on anal or unsanitary stuff specifically though, and beer holds no appeal to me either).

I read that stuff and think "Oh wow, yet another allegedly impossible ideal that I just effortlessly meet without even trying."

But on the other hand I also find it kind of grating when people overly highlight gender or start strongly gendering activities like this. To me, it is silly at best to imply that only men can have an interest in a particular hobby.

Like, stop. Do you really live like this? This is as stupid as when my father said only women and gays liked cats. It's not even true and you know it. Stop pretending people who have these interests don't exist in real life.

Some of us are just too autistic to care about gender norms one way or another, and to be honest I think more people could do with being even just slightly more indifferent to gender.

#long post

28 notes · View notes

frostedlemonwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Kitchen Adventures - Chapter 1

Mr. Moran’s old seafoam green pickup truck rumbled down the winding road that led through this old neighborhood. Past old but well-maintained houses with manicured lawns surrounded by trees on each side, the ancient heavy leaf-laden boughs hung over the road in a natural arch. Houses made of brick and wood were built during Acadia’s boom after the war when the fishing industry took off to help serve a hungry nation. Acadia wasn’t even a fraction of its former glory, but people remained. The pickup truck drove up to the intersection of St. Mary’s and Glenfiddich before it turned and disappeared in the evening mist.

A rough stone wall stained by the constant cold rain bordered a two-story home that housed an average family. Each window lit up from the inside with signs of movement and life. Oak-scented smoke rose from the chimney in an unbroken shaft into the clouds above, with a wrap-around porch covered by an awning held up by faux classical columns. High-backed wooden chairs painted white beside tables covered in empty bottles and wine glasses.

Two teenage women sat on the old stone wall with their hands clenched together. Ryan Byrnes ran her free hand through her dark brown hair and flipped to one side. A miniature cross dangled off the thin hoop through her earlobe; her thin lips painted an aubergine color with a silver stud piercing her bottom lip. While her girlfriend, the ginger-haired Kaytlin Amber, was clad in a denim jacket with various patches upon its surface. A messenger bag lay strapped around her torso.

“I hate these parties,” Ryan broke the silence.

Kat smirked while she brought her phone up to check her texts. Two from her mother and one from her father. In typical fashion, she rolled her eyes at the orders and summons to return home.

“At least your parents are normal,” Kat replied. “My parents throw dinner parties for political bullshit reasons with people they hate.”

“Your dad is a politician, babe.”

Kat waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “I know. Still, everything is so fake.”

“He’s the fakest person I know,” Ryan kissed Kaytlin’s cheek. “You are the realist person I know.”

Kaytlin turned her head to give her girlfriend a soft kiss.

“I gotta head home,” Kat sighed.

With a sigh of her own, Ryan wanted to spend more time with her best friend and girlfriend. Still, there was plenty of time together once they graduated in just over a month. Kat’s father owned a condo in the city that he only used when he had to visit the city. As a graduation present to both young women, they will stay there through the next four years of college as long as they take care of it.

Kaytlin hopped off the wall while she gazed at Ryan for a moment. After a bit, Kat pulled out her camera from the messenger bag. After she fiddled with some settings, Kay kneeled in front of her girlfriend before urging her not to move. Ryan was used to it and loved being an impromptu model. Considering that a photo she was in helped Kaytlin get into Oregon State University’s photography program.

“My perfect muse,” Kat remarked before she leaned in to kiss Ryan. “I’ll text you. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Kaytlin waved before she walked over to the bike that she had had since they were in middle school. A depression in the grass from the bicycle corrected itself once Kat departed. Down the road where the town’s most expensive houses resided – the mayor, the DA, and various lawyers and doctors lived.

With a glance at the woman disappearing down the road, Ryan prepared to go back inside, where her parents and their friends were undoubtedly drunk. Another moment lingered before her stomach grumbled, which forced her hand as dinner called Ryan’s name. Her parents were always social with the neighbors, which meant a lot of food and alcohol. For Ryan, it meant she had to be social when all she wanted to do was watch her cooking shows; read her culinary books for the hundredth time; or even play a video game, which she did a bit more rare as Ryan got older.

While she made her way through the house with a bowl of chili, Mr. Henderson cooked and brought it over. Ryan went to her private sanctuary in the entire world – her bedroom. It was the smallest room in the home as her two older brothers got the bigger ones she preferred. Dozens of posters and photos cover her walls. Bands she had always loved dominated most of the walls, with the popstar Juju taking center stage. A twin-sized bed dominated the right side of the room with a shelf built into the wall above, which held books by famed chefs Niki Yoshimoto, Melissa Kim, and various others.

Upon a metal desk, her laptop opened with a green pipe screensaver that just caused various lights to play across the room. Purple and green lights strung around her room. Ryan's chef jacket hung off a hanger from the back of her open closet door. She turned on The Owl House on her laptop; this was her favorite of all time outside of culinary shows. Ryan locked the door after she finished her dinner and brushed her teeth. With her phone clutched in her hands, she curled up on her bed.

While Ryan was always an early riser, she decided to jog around the neighborhood to help let out some energy and work on her health. After working at Doc Henderson’s, a five-star Zagat restaurant catered to the elite of Acadia and its surrounding towns, Ryan discovered that stamina and fitness would make the intense professional kitchen a bit easier to handle. Ryan steeled herself for the long day ahead with her phone playing Tegan and Sara through her earbuds.

The school day was a drag since Kaytlin didn’t share many classes. They would see each other often until the lunch break, which allowed both of them to have jobs to save each cent for their move to the city. After a couple of hours spent hanging out, Kat would drop off Ryan before she took herself to work.

An old Victorian manor turned restaurant where the first doctor that lived in Acadia dwelled back when the town first formed. The back door led to a large dry storage room with a locker room off to the side. A space that smelt of the astringent chemicals that kept it clean. Several old metal lockers lined the wall. Ryan stuffed her backpack into the cubicle before she put on the whole chef’s outfit, including the jacket and pants, and made sure the black skull cap properly secured her hair.

“Miss Byrnes, good to see you,” Chef Joseph Woodward called out to the young lady as she entered the kitchen.

The Chef was an imposing man with broad shoulders, a well-trimmed graying beard, and a small American flag pinned to the chef jacket’s lapel. It was a sign that the man had cooked on the American Culinary team and was a certified Chef de Cuisine. Outside of Chef Ashly Willow, Ryan’s most revered chef, this man was the most influential in how she cooked. From dishwasher to prep to garde manger in less than a month, she had been on the most decorative and knife-heavy station for the past half year, which had improved her knife skills by leaps and bounds, along with plating.

“How are you, chef?” Ryan replied.

“Great,” Chef Joseph answered, “Can I have a moment of your time, please?”

Ryan nodded and followed the chef toward what used to be an old storeroom converted to a fully functional office. Photos of the owners and the chef with various great culinarians and chefs of the past and present.

“You aren’t in trouble. Please relax a little,” The chef said to Ryan.

Ryan’s shoulders softened as she sat down to listen to the chef. Who explained to her how well she had been doing and how quickly she had picked up the basics of knife work. Not to mention the design on the plates of the salads and desserts was quick and precise, and even Ryan would admit this is the part she enjoyed the most. She was making art on a blank plate canvas. Even if it was someone else’s design, Ryan learned something each time. The chef praised her but gave the young woman some more pointers on how to be more efficient in her movement. Before, he stated that Ryan would be working with Sous Chef Allison Daveys on the grill station tonight. One of the most prestigious and complex stations for it involved the precise cooking, cutting, and resting of proteins. Chef wanted her to work on each station for a week before going to culinary school. For her education, more than a need for help on the stations. The chef's goal was to expose the young woman to many other techniques before she left.

“I recognize the talent, potential, and natural understanding for cooking that you possess,” The chef wasn’t a man to give out compliments for no reason. “I think culinary school is the best thing for you. Just keep working on your skills. Find a part-time weekend job at a nice restaurant near the school. Join the ACF as a student.”

The chef liked to hear himself talk; however, Ryan made a mental note of his advice to write down later in the culinary notebook she kept in her backpack. The American Culinary Federation was already on the young woman’s radar, which solidified her wanting to join their student program. He explained more about what Ryan should do, tweak, or change, and after a bit, the chef sent Ryan off to work under the Sous Chef.

Ryan enjoyed the opportunity to work on the grill. To learn how to temp a piece of meat just by touch. To properly rest and cut a beautiful protein. It was a rather busy Monday night, but it wasn’t hard for the young woman to keep up with the demands of the guests. By the night's end, her steaks were perfect no matter what doneness the guest wanted. Her fish was properly cooked and not overdone. The chicken was juicy, not underdone, but not overdone. The young woman was proud of herself and even received praise from the cooks around here. Even the Sous Chef who was on the station with her seemed impressed.

By the time the restaurant was closed, Ryan was in the locker room, paying no heed to the other cooks around her who had changed into their street clothes. She wrote the advice the chef de cuisine gave her. The way to slice meat - against the grain! - written across the top of the page.

When her girlfriend called to tell Ryan to get her butt outside, Ryan was excited, still pumped from the night, that she got into Kat’s sedan and kissed her girlfriend. The young chef-to-be couldn’t help but go on about the evening, which Kaytlin found adorable. Despite her job at McDonald’s being awful. Kat was just happy for her girlfriend. Just like Ryan supported every step of Kat’s desire to be a photographer.

After a bit, Kaytlin stopped her car in front of Ryan’s home. They quickly kissed before Ryan made her way across the damp lawn. Once inside, she greeted her mother, ignored her brother's snide comment, and disappeared into her room. Ryan lay on her bed with a bit of a huff; when she closed her eyes, Ryan thought of her girlfriend, but her mind drifted to Portland. Kat would make waves in the photography world, while Ryan would open her food truck to help fund her future restaurants and catering business. It was a great idea, but Ryan knew it would be hard. A smile crossed her face because the idea she would be doing this with her best friend, girlfriend, and soulmate was such a great, awesome thing that many wouldn’t get.

The last few weeks in Acadia went by much quicker than anyone expected. Yet, the weekend before school started for both women, the young women packed up Kat’s car with both of their clothes, books, and anything they could fit, as they were thankful the furnished condo was an actual option. A dark and dreary day with heavy rain didn’t slow them down after a quick farewell to Ryan’s parents. Kat cranked the engine to life and looked at her girlfriend.

“Ready?” Kat asked.

There was a lot of weight to that singular word.

Ryan took her girlfriend’s hand for a moment, “Yes.”

Always Wit U by Juju played over the speakers after Ryan started her Spotify playlist. The two teens sang the lyrics together while Kat drove the car out of the neighborhood. One of the lovely sunny days to start their new lives together in the big city, at least it was a big city to them, and it couldn’t have been more perfect. Ryan’s left knee bounced as they rode on the highway. Kaytlin placed her hand on her girlfriend’s knee, which calmed both women as they got closer to their new home.

Portland was their favorite city as the place had a unique aura compared to Seattle or any of the major cities in California. There were tall buildings, yet no high rises like in Seattle. Plenty of trees and green areas, and once you enter the city, there’s a sign that welcomes you with the city’s unofficial motto - Keep Portland Weird. The young women truly loved the city because everyone seemed to be themselves without worry or the need to change. As if societal taboos didn’t exist here, though that was untrue, it is still great not to have to feel like changing themselves.

Kaytlin pulled off to the side close to the Willamette River, where several bridges spanned across the gentle elbow of the river’s bend. She knew her girlfriend well enough that Ryan didn’t say anything as Kat removed her camera. Despite having been best friends since elementary school and lovers since sophomore year. The sudden inspiration that Kat would receive always amazed Ryan as she would see something and knew it would make a great photo somehow. To work on pure creative intuition and instinct was something that Kat always had. Ryan didn’t know if she had such a thing despite what her former chef informed her some weeks ago.

“It’s beautiful,” Kat said.

Ryan looked over the river as the sun played off the water's surface. Without another word, she climbed back into the car. Kat pulled them into an underground car park with its code-activated gate and a fancy elevator.

After a long elevator ride, they carried their boxes and bags through the unremarkable hallway leading to their condo. Once Kat unlocked the door, they both had a key given to them by her father, but Kaytlin was always a bit of a gentleman, in a sense. Once inside, Ryan loved how minimalistic and modern the interior was.

“Dad paid a lot of money for some fancy-schmancy interior designer to make this place look good. Then his dumb ass never comes here,” Kat groaned, but the man had a lot of money.

Kaytlin always scoffed at the idea. Her parents had money, but Kat worked to save her own, not wanting a cent from either one, which was another thing Ryan admired about her girlfriend. The desire to truly become independent of her parents in every way. Kat was different than all the other rich, posh girls in school that Ryan knew.

Surprisingly it didn’t take them too long to unpack everything, which left Ryan some time to look down at Portland below. Like ants below her, people went about their daily lives. Cars drove through the streets that led to where they had to go, wherever that may be.

“Are you sure you don’t mind cooking tonight?” Kat whispered, arms wrapped around Ryan’s stomach.

“Don’t be silly,” Ryan replied. “I am

They spent the weekend making their shared home their own with various posters, pictures, and the purple and green lights that Ryan had strung in her old bedroom. The future chef made every meal to practice her knife cuts and other techniques she had seen on YouTube or in the textbooks for her first semester. Kat proclaimed the food was excellent each time, and though Ryan thought it tasty, she knew it wasn’t as good as her girlfriend claimed. However, Ryan loved how much Kat supported her, as it pushed her to want to make great food every time.

“Let me take a picture of it,” Kat looked at the plate of food and glanced up at her girlfriend.

Ryan shook her head. Despite being pretty plates, Ryan felt her food wasn’t ready to be photographed. The young woman’s confidence did balloon a little as she couldn’t deny that they did look good.

Ryan kept her habit of jogging early in the morning, with Kat joining her sans camera. They would explore their area of the city with small boutiques, cafes, and bars. Not to mention the bus stops for Ryan and Kat. What stood out was the open-air market a few blocks from where they lived.

“Let’s stop a moment,” Ryan said, out of breath with her legs burning.

Kat nodded, “Yeah, babe. I need to catch my breath anyway. I am dying!”

Ryan glanced at her girlfriend, whose brow glistened in beads of sweat that glistened in the early morning sun. Her focus, however, switched to the sizable market that sat on the corner of a rather busy intersection. Despite the time of day, the market was a hub of activity. Workers filled their stalls with fresh produce, fish, and a few butchers with beautiful cuts of meats.

“Wow,” Ryan whispered to herself.

The young chef smelled produce and sampled everything she could as she and Kat talked with the vendors; this was one of the eye-opening moments of Ryan’s life as her palate acquired new flavors. Just like her old chef used to advise her to do every time the restaurant got fresh ingredients. The visit was great despite Kaytlin lamenting that she should have brought her camera. It made Ryan desire to create fantastic, award-winning food from those who cared about the quality of their produce, beef, fish, or what-have-you, even higher than before.

The weekend ended after a dinner of flank steak, shiitake mushrooms, and fingerling potatoes, all ingredients Ryan found at the open-air market. The two women sat down to watch a movie, snuggling against one another as the weekend drew close. With both of their classes starting on Monday, they made sure both of their backpacks were ready to go.

Kaytlin quickly fell asleep, but Ryan couldn’t catch more than an hour of sleep at any time. Like a ship lost at sea, she tossed and turned beside her girlfriend, who slept through it all. Ryan couldn’t even explain why she was so nervous about tomorrow as she stared at the ceiling. Not like tomorrow was an important test or exam, but it felt like the first step in the long journey of her life. After some time, Ryan fell asleep for a few solid hours before getting up for her morning jog.

Ryan’s nerves improved as the jog ended, and she sat down, freshly scrubbed from her shower, dressed in her chef’s outfit for class. Ryan sipped on her coffee with still over an hour before her first class began. The young woman knew which building and room her classes would reside in as all the culinary courses were in the same place. Kat was going to drive them both today since her class was later in the day, so there was no need for the bus today. Tomorrow would be different with the early morning baking class and the ServSafe sanitary course.

The campus was large, with well-manicured green lawns that separated several large brick-faced buildings. Large groups of students traveled between the parking lot and their classes. A decent amount of them dressed in the same uniform as Ryan.

“You got this, babe,” Kat assured as she stopped close to Ryan’s building.

After a quick kiss, Ryan smiled and thanked her girlfriend for the support. Then she stepped out into the cool, windy morning. The most significant first step on the journey of becoming one of the chefs she had admired her whole life. A few students like her outside the giant production kitchen made small talk as they waited for the introductory class to begin. Ryan paid most of them no attention as she watched the older students in the kitchen. They made soups and stocks in one part while several students chopped, sliced, and minced vegetables under the watchful gaze of a chef. In a separate part of the kitchen, students made candies with what appeared to be molten sugar. Another had students pulling loaves of bread from an actual wood-fired brick oven. An excellent, wonderful, glorious place in Ryan’s mind, and she couldn’t wait to get started with it all, especially as these students she watched were starting new classes in their second, third, and fourth semesters and already knew something.

“My name is Sally, and this is Joesph,” A young blonde-haired woman gestured toward her apparent twin brother.

Ryan snapped out of her mind and looked at two dressed the same as herself with their university-issued knife bags and backpacks.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Ryan. It is a pleasure to meet you both,” She cocked an eyebrow, “Twins?”

Joseph nodded his head and pushed his thick hipster-like black-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“Sally is three minutes older.

“And I always remind him of it,” The woman added.

Before the twins could continue, an older woman in a chef’s jacket with a briefcase, a backpack, and a knife roll arrived to herd the students into one of the many classrooms set off the production kitchen. The broad-shouldered woman’s voice was low and husky, which commanded the attention of all who heard her. She introduced herself as Chef Melissa and explained her history of working with some of the best chefs in the country. Then the chef spent most of the time describing what to expect this semester from the classes since the first semester was the same for every culinary student. After that, everyone had to introduce themselves to their classmates, and Ryan hated this part yet participated when it was time.

With false confidence, Ryan stood up, “My name is Ryan Byrnes. I’m from just up the road a bit in Acadia. I’m a double major student in culinary and baking. I want to open a food truck and run a restaurant one day. My favorite chef is Ashly Willow. Would love to meet her one day.”

Ryan had to will herself to shut up and sit down, and it felt like everyone judged her, despite no one outside of the twins thinking twice about it. As the chef-professor ended the hours-long class, she led the students through the kitchen, including the bakery, candy shop, ice carving room, and even the restaurant open daily. Then after the chef proclaimed that Wednesday would be a lecture followed by time in the kitchen, she wished everyone a good rest for the beginner's baking course started before the sun rose above the horizon since their baked goods are what the cafeteria and restaurant sell throughout the day.

Well into mid-afternoon, Ryan said goodbye to her classmates once the class was over. Who was quick to trade numbers with each other, but then it was off to the bus for the young woman. She was thankful it didn’t take long to get to the condo, and Ryan was in the apartment alone for the first time. When she went through the culinary textbook, she found a bolognese recipe that Ryan had tried before. Dinner was decided for tonight, and Ryan was determined to have her first photo-worthy dish.

And assuredly, Kaytlin would love to take the photo.

#Writerblr #writing #creative writing #queer #fluff #mystory

62 notes · View notes