#but i never thought id be just like. just straight up called a fag.

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

Was at a birthday party for a family friend and having a great time. Anyway. I was warned that one of the dudes there was "the slur guy"

Now i know what you're thinking. Slur guy? Yeah, y'know. That white guy that says slurs all the time. Staple of every goddamn frat house.

Anyway. Im there for not even 30 minutes before this man calls both me, and the birthday boy's bi girlfriend fags. :)

Okay, but no you guys, it was TOTALLY cool bc he meant it as a joke :) and we both know that someone dubbed "the slur guy" would only ever claim something offensive was a joke in good faith.

Anyway, me and the girl just like. Gaped at each other in shock for a solid 30 seconds. About 15secs in is when he realised that no one thought his "joke" was funny.

[joshslater]

Russian Dolt

Another Hank collab. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was just about ready to give up and head back to the hotel. I’ve spent 16 years being a sales representative across Southeast Asia, and I know all the regional variations on the prostitutes fairly well. Here in Manila, a Russian girl would go for at least twice the price of a local. A Malay girl would go for a discount. But too much of the same old thing grows boring, and that’s why I was out in the bars tonight instead of just calling an escort to the hotel for a “massage”.

I wasn’t sure what I was after, to be honest, which was part of the problem. Maybe a threesome? A gymnastics girl doing tricks for me – and on me? I’ve heard that in some countries the Olympic teams even earn some side money in brothels. I’ve never found it myself, but that would be something different at least. So far nothing I had found had really turned my crank. I was polishing off a mediocre whiskey when I was approached at the bar by the man.

The guy was younger than me, maybe 25, and looked very Russian. Buzzed hair, tank top, tight jeans, flip flops, cheap tats and the don’t give a fuck attitude that their entire nation has adopted since they lost the Cold War. He smelled of smoke and cheap cologne. He looked to be in great shape. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I overheard you speaking of freak sex, yes?”

The accent was heavily Russian as well. This could be exactly what I was after, but it could also end up with me robbed and dead in a ditch.

“What’s it to you?”

“We have proposal. Have you had sex as not you?”

Despite the hot and wet climate, I could feel a wall of heat radiating on my other side as one real furnace of a man stepped closer to me. I turned my head and looked right into a black tank top. It was filled with a huge pile of meat. I looked up at his face and he made a silent nod. Perhaps not as stereotypically Russian, but still very much old Soviet stock, and presumably lots of old Soviet hormones, not all his. His muscles seemed to have muscles.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sex as not me?”

“We have a thing that lets you do sex as if someone else. Understand? You could be me?”

“I could be you? Who would you be?”

“I would be you, for short time. Very short. Then you as me do any things, dangerous things. Nasty things. But safe for you. When finished, you are you and I am I.”

I was thinking really hard on how this scam worked. Was this just going to trick me out of 5000 pesos, or was the end goal to take me for all I was worth? The setup was intriguing. Performing sex as someone else… I’d certainly never tried that before. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back, in part because I knew, loathe as I’d be to admit it, that it often did.

“What kind of nasty things?” I finally answered.

“Many different things. You chose. How about fucked by wrestler?”

He gestured towards the pillar of meat on my other side. That surprised me. Back home where I grew up there was a lot of "God hates fags" and crude gay jokes, but I always thought it was a bit obsessive. It's a free country so they can do whatever they want, as long as they keep me out of it. I’d never had sex with a man before, obviously. Never even considered it. I was about to protest how I wasn’t a fag, when a small little voice at the back of my head pointedly said “Damn straight, but apparently he is one.” Well, if I was going to be someone else, then why not go for something truly wild and different? Something I would never put my own body through.

“How does it work? How do we do it?”

“We put your body somewhere safe. To keep your mind off it. Then we swap. When you are done, we swap again. 3000 pesos per hour.”

Twenty minutes later, if even that, the three of us were standing in my hotel room. The lobby was deserted, save for the night manager who gave us a disapproving look on our way to the elevator. On the way up, I made a quick estimate of what everything I brought was worth. I only had my carry on, some clothes, my laptop, cell phone and travel wallet. If I was completely cleared out by these guys, I could stay an extra day, have the cards blocked and reissued, use insurance to buy replacements, and be on my way. Not much to lose, really.

The big hunk of meat was Boris, because of course he’d be a Boris. He didn’t speak any English. The sleazy guy in the wifebeater was Mikhail, and he was now explaining the details of how he proposed we do this. He had a handcuff with a really long chain, so I could be cuffed to the bathroom water pipe and still make it to the bed. This would allow Mikhail, in my body, to stay securely in the room, watch TV, use the bathroom and such and such while I was out in his body. I was full of doubt. Step one really can’t be that I chain myself with handcuffs to the bathroom pipes? Mikhail saw my hesitation without me saying anything.

“You want to see first, yes?”

“Please.”

From his pocket he pulled out two thumb rings. They were plain iron rings with no inlays, but with engraved symbols running around them, which gave them a brutish look. He gave me one.

“Sit down. Put it on, right hand.”

I did as I was told, and nothing happened. He sat down next to me on the bed and unceremoniously slipped on his ring. Instantly, everything shifted a few feet to the side, and I suddenly looked out of his eyes instead of mine. It worked. It felt amazing.

His body was in such great shape. I ran my hand over the buzz cut stubble on my head, feeling the prickliness of it against my palm. Then, swiftly, just as quickly as I had jumped into his body, I was back in mine, looking at my hand. Mikhail had just removed the ring.

“You can see it works. You want to continue, yes?”

I sure did. I could scarcely believe this technology was legit. Perhaps it was magic. I know, magic isn't real, but then neither are body swaps. I put the ring back on, and wow, the rush. I was back in Mikhail’s body.

Mikhail patted me and got up. It was so trippy to see my body moving next to me. He quickly locked the handcuff to to his left wrist and then stepped into the bathroom to attach the other end of the cuff. He then stepped out again and gave me the key.

“Here, keep this safe. My suggestion would be to put it in the room safe, so you don’t lose it in the excitement.”

To my shock, he was talking fluent English now, without any accent.

“I will do,” I answered, immediately laughing a dumb Russian laugh. Wow, how stupid my own voice sounded. I sounded just like Mikhail in voice, accent and whacked English.

I immediately realized that whatever these rings did wasn't simply placing my brain inside Mikhail's body. That would just change the voice. But to also changed my accent and even words and grammar, which hinted at something more complex. It somehow both frightened and excited me, and I felt a stir in my pants. I wondered what else would be different, what else this body I now inhabited might be made of.

I put the key and my wallet in the safe, and locked it with 7478. Same code as my old phone, based on the Boeing 747-8 plane. As an international businessman I've had many trips on those. Boris started moving and ushered me out of the room, almost impatiently. As the room door clicked shut, I realized that I’m standing outside of my room with no key, no ID, a different body, and next to this oversized hunk of meat. I reminded myself that I can, at any moment, just remove the ring and appear back in the room. I could then open the safe, grab the key, unlock the shackles on my own body, and pretend like nothing had happened. As long as I have my hand free to remove the ring, there is no need for a safe word tonight. I chuckled with Mikhail’s voice at my own internal pun.

The feeling was amazing, getting accustomed to the body. I could tell my first thought was spot on: this bod was in great shape. It was lithe, almost sprightly compared to where I was at normally. Toned and packed with just enough firm muscle to have a bit of a swagger, it seemed. As we strode out of the hotel and into one of the waiting taxis, I ran a hand through my buzzed hair once more, feeling the spike of the flat cut against my palm. I tugged a little and played with the studs in my ear lobes.

Is this how fags felt, I wondered? Are these sort of bodies part of where their pride and sex drive comes from? I hadn’t given any thought before to the idea that men who are attracted to men might find their own bodies hot, too. I looked down at my forearms, noticing the fit power in them, the veins lightly popping. It did look good to me. I could feel queer thoughts, but I wasn’t ashamed or repulsed by them. This wasn’t me, but I could tell it could be very hot to play the gay. And looking at my arms, I felt an erotic buzz. I was starting plump up a little. I was legitimately turned on.

“In Soviet Russia, you not find faggot. Faggot find you!” I said out loud, laughing, thinking that I sounded even dumber than Mikhail did in this voice. One of my favorite jokes finally had a body worthy of it. Both Boris and the driver ignored me.

I suppose Russians didn’t usually make such a classic Russian joke, did they? Or did they? This really was the most out-of-body experience I’ve ever had, quite literally. Talk about risk versus reward payoff. I had to do it again.

“In Soviet Russia, big dick find you!” I found myself slurring, stupidly, and just hearing the ridiculous accent come out of Mikhail’s mouth, a mouth that was mine for the time being, made me snort with laughter again. I didn’t expect that the first few things I’d be doing in this body would be laughing my ass off. It was truly surreal. But it was hilarious, I mean, wow. Maybe it was my way of trying to find my sea legs after such radical change.

We arrived at a different hotel only 15 minutes away from mine, but looking at it they couldn't be further apart. If Mikhail and Boris looked seedy in the lobby of my hotel, they would appear posh in this neighborhood. I was still not used to this body, and wobbled a bit getting out of the taxi. Boris stopped and waited by the hotel entrance while I made a few jumps to test that everything is fine.

“Boris,” I say, my voice reminding me of some squirrel and moose thing – Natasha – Rocky and Bullwinkle – I can’t get over this accent –

“Boris, where is room?”

I find that I almost have a feel for the way the Russkies talk, I think, and that if I just roll with it, I’ll be able to work with it almost effortlessly. Boris started leading me into the hotel and down a hall. He stopped by a door and opened it, with a real key. Not one of those card reader doors. He entered the room and I followed.

First thing I did was to swagger on over to the mirror. I didn't get a good look while in my room before Boris ushered me out. Yeah, I pretty much looked amazing. This body, or whatever sense of sexual desire was in this bod, recognizes male beauty in a way that wasn’t apparent to me at all as a straight guy. This body is fit, it is toned, it is more tanned than I would have expected from a Russian guy. He must have been in The Philippines for a while now, I figured. The tats, which I thought looked like cheap pieces of shit from a budget tattoo parlor before, looked masculine, tough, and sleazy.

I looked like the mirror image of a guy who lived to fuck, drink, smoke and party, I thought- And I could feel that I was craving a smoke, too. But man, that mirror… I was boned, totally erect over a man for the first time in my life, even if it just was myself, in a way.

Mikhail had been wearing that rich brand of underwear to try to act like he was worth something, I suppose. What’s the name of it? I can’t even remember, not being an underwear type myself. To me, despite whatever he must have spent, the briefs and tats all just made him look cheap and trashy. But I liked it. It’d be perfect for tonight. I fully intended to take advantage of it all, go out for a while, have fun and bring someone back tonight. If things stayed chill, I was ready to fuck. Boris looked bored, and wasn’t even really watching me, so I was guessing things were cool.

I recalled Mikhail had blurted something out earlier about “Fuck Wrestler,” which I presumed meant Boris. And I had been thinking maybe I’d do that, initially, not really being sure what I’d do. But now that I was attracted to men, apparently, I really just didn’t think Boris was my type. Or this body’s type. Or whatever. He didn’t seem to be into me, either. I like the look of Mikhail’s body for sure, and it’s almost mesmerizing to me. Breaking away from the mirror is a bit of a challenge, I notice, as I put my tank top back on. Maybe the old line about Narcissus isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“Boris, I want to go to bar,” I said. “Gay bar. You know where?” “да,” the oaf answered.

I understood it as "Yes", of course, but I understood it in a fluid way. Could I speak it, too?

“Вы можете общаться со мной на русском языке?” I blurted to see if he could understand me. My own words sound like something an insect would come up with. They buzzed. They sounded slushy, and they sounded like shit. I really don’t know how folks can speak such an ugly language, how anything could evolve in such a strange way.

“да.” he said again, without any emotion.

There’s some male jewelry on the counter, I noticed as I started to turn out the lights. Dog tags, a pendant. I picked them up and put em on. Looks good- Wonder if Mikhail walked around with that, normally. The whole walk to the bar, I couldn’t help but to act cocky, shifting my posture, feeling playful with this body. Boris, as I found out by trying to chat him up, despite him being a man of few words, did have a pack of cigarettes to help me out with. Soon I’m bumming a couple off of him, and as soon as I could get away with it outside of the lobby, I light up.

The guys walking around Manila that we passed – some are kind of, I don’t know how to put it…not ugly, but not really attractive. I wasn’t really drawn to the girls, I noticed, but not the guys either, all that much. Some of them caught my eye a little more than others. I hoped when we got to the bar that I would find one of the Russians I was expecting to be there. Was that what my genes were hunting for, or was that what I just was expecting to find? A Russian? Would I be attracted to a German, a Frenchman or an American if I ran into any? Good luck picking one up with this voice, I thought to myself. But this is a sexy body. I bet I could pick up a lot of different kinds of guys. Gays aren’t really known for being particular, I thought. At least they’re known to do a lot of depraved shit with anyone. They aren’t like women. They have it easy, so I should too.

The thought of trying to hit on a guy, though I had no clue how to do it, seemed amusing. I felt a tinge of nervousness, but then I remembered this isn’t my real body. I could say anything. There’s a wallet in these jeans and I flipped through it. Was that arranged? There’s enough cash in there, 400 pesos, to drink for a while depending on the prices. I wonder if Boris would loan me more, but how smashed would I really gonna get? It should be more than enough.

Soon we were in the bar. I eyed the field. I spotted my prey almost instantly. Dark beard, full, thick. Bomber sunglasses tank top, twists of tribal tattoo down one arm. I wondered what sort of guy wears glasses in a bar, and I was thinking, fag guys do. And that’s you too, fag boy, so hop to it. And it was alluring, even as I knew it was done for affect. I didn’t care. He was hot.

I didn’t sit down by him right away, though. Boris and I took a spot at the corner, by the entrance. Soon enough, though, I wink at him on his way to take a piss. Why not? Nothing to lose, man.

Once he was out of sight Boris stood up, and surprised I asked him if he was going to leave. I kind of expected he would stick around to make sure I didn't do anything too stupid with Mikhail's body. He smiled for the first time, patted me too hard in the back, responded "Ты справишься" and left. And with that I was on my own.

Well, that’s all fine with me, because I was worried these guys might think I already scored Boris or something. Didn’t want that crimping my game. I was totally comfortable on my own, too. Fuck, it’s not my body. Still can’t get over how liberating it was to just know it.

The night got rolling, more folks were trickling into the club, and Bomber Glasses and I were talking, finally. He is German, but does speak some English. This body did the work for me, I thought. He was into me. I couldn’t help but be fixated at his beard, man, and the chest hair that foofed out of the top of his tank. He has a dog tag of his own around his neck. It’s all so sleazy and fucked up. It’s weird, knowing that what once would have repulsed now allured.

Soon he was buying me a drink. I wondered if I was attracted to powerful guys, as this was the first one who caught my eye out of the bunch, not that there were many to choose from. He was at least a good three inches taller than me. Darker complexion. Thicker hair, and of course that beard. That chest. Mine’s got just a little fuzz. I started to wonder if Russians were a hairy people compared to Germans. I didn’t think they really were, but some definitely are. The train of thoughts caught me by surprise. I’ve never before considered how hairy guys are. Must be the fag in me for sure. Wondered what mixing with this body for the night is gonna do to my mind, long-term. You know, like what if it’s like the long-term effects of a powerful dose of shrooms? That might not be good, depending. It felt OK in the trial swap we did earlier, so clearly it reverts without any seeming issues, but then that was just after a few seconds.

No time to be nervous, though. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

Now the guy’s looking at me, intensely, right in the eyes over drinks, and I was feeling like maybe the gays have a point about wanting their public display of affection. I was feeling like if this guy wanted to fuck out in the streets of Manila with me, I’d do it, despite the filth and chaos. By the time he was kissing me, right in the bar, and I was feeling his thick beard press into my jaw, and we’re speaking our stupid, malformed English to each other, all I could think about was the hard cock that might end up in my ass tonight if this kept going well. I wantws this guy to come back to the hotel with me.

“You and I,” I said, between kisses. “Go wild, with sex, you make sex with me. Hot as sex,” I went, fascinated by the chest hair he was got spilling out of the neckline, rubbing it with my fingers, playing with it, all as best as I could. He was trying to slobber on my earlobe stud and probe my tongue with his ear. We’re making a scene in the bar. I couldn’t care less. He stripped my shirt off right then and there in the bar so he could see my chest. He was playing with my pecs, rubbing the muscle, slapping my firm belly, my firm biceps. “Flex for me,” he commands. I've never done that in my life before, and don't really know how, but somehow I manage to make some tight abs for him. He is lost in admiration, I could see.

We walked out the backdoor of the club, his fingers in the back pocket of one of my jeans, not just kinda steering me, as I’m rather sloshed, but claiming me. Showing who is the top. He squeezed an ass cheek through the denim, and I loved it. He leaned in for another kiss. It’s a steamy night. I needed a smoke, so I lit one up, buzzed up, feeling dreamy as hell, wondering what "nasty things” would actually going to be like. A cock up my ass? I could take one, fuck if I care. Sounded glorious right then. I wondered if I could feel that desire in my ass that they supposedly get? Not yet, I thought, searching my thoughts to see if I felt anything, and decided that maybe it’s because I haven’t tried it, yet. I wanted to try it. This German guy, a man, had me feeling like a creature of beauty. I felt beautiful in a way no woman had ever made me feel before.

I can scarcely remember the walk back to the hotel, for all the alcohol, hormones and groping. I remember wanting to be rather cautious the whole while. Manila is just loaded with chaos, deep pits and potholes you can step into, nothing in the way of sidewalks, not to mention motobikes and jeepneys. The hotel was much too close to bother with a cab.

I remember thinking that the longer I stayed in this body, the more risk I was taking, but I’d come this far tonight and intended to finish it. We didn’t set a time limit. “When you are done” was the deal. That made sense, as they got paid by the hour. They’d want to give me time to fuck until I’m sick of it, presumably by dawn at the latest, and I would obviously want my body back. This set of jeans didn’t even come with ID, and most of my few bucks had already been spent at the bar.

As for the sex, this guy was experienced. I figured as much, but found it out fast once we were in the bedroom together. I mean, I had barely latched the door behind me when he really flaunted his power, flipping me right around, pressing my back up against the door, passionately taking my jaw in his big hands and kissing me, licking me, tenderly and firmly, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe. He was even licking up my neck in broad strokes like I’m a fruit that’s ripe on the vine. It was hot. I suppose I must be a fruit, at least for tonight, haha. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, on my breath. I wanted to hear my dumb, hot, sexy Russian voice again. I was fumbling to get him out of his tank, which should have been an easy move, but I was too drunk.

“Chest, man,” I said. “You hairy, man. You are hairy. It’s hot.” I sounded like an idiot, I know, but it’s hot to hear my voice, too, my slurring, Russian voice.

”Yeah, boy,” he went, feeling up my pecs. I liked being called boy by this guy. Made me feel young, sexy, which I am. And I knew it.

He was practically ripping me out of my briefs and threw me on the bed. He got me naked, and he has got coke. It’s not my body, I think. I knew what to do, believe it or not. I've been to the bars around Wall street and seen what happens in the men's room. So I snorted up a line off the glass counter, walked over, naked, lit up a cigarette right in the room. Didn’t see any non-smoking signs, at least. This isn't the kind of hotel that bothers with smoke detectors. He slapped me on the ass and I couldn’t believe this was me, just hanging out casually, naked with a guy who’s occasionally slobbering all over my lower jaw.

I snorted another line. I felt amped, like coffee, only crazier. I took more at once. With a cross-fade like this, I know it’s more dangerous. Not my body, not my problem.

He was wrestling me down. I loved the feel of my muscles pushing back against his, and I loved trying to toss him, to pin him down, but he was stronger. We wrestled a lot that night, playful. I was so drunk it didn’t really hurt even when he threw me to the floor and body slammed me. It’s just fucking fun, don’t know how to put it, that state when you’ve got adrenaline and passion and lust and a few drugs pumping through your veins.

Man, his cock was a thick one. At one point I remember him shoving his hand in my ass, licking and slobbering all up in my crack, and I’m just on hands and knees, drooling, playing with my own dick as it flopped around and dangled down, making slimy fish line circles of pre-cum in the carpet. Although most dicks in the world are uncut, it somehow felt wrong  that my dick now was one of them. Like peeing with boxers on. I was on my haunches, and he was fucking the living shit out of me. It hurt and I yelped out, but guy knew what he was doing, I told myself.

At one point, I half cum, forcing myself to hold it back, not wanting the experience to end so soon. “Try,” I said to him, stopping, getting up off my knees. “Try not to cum,” I said. I had pulled back, hard, using my groin muscles to stop it so I could save my load. A minute later I was good to go again. He put a cock ring on me, telling me that will shut the dick up. I don't know if he brought it or if he found it in the room. Everything was a blur. “You are my pet now”, he told me. He was pushing me down, going for my armpits, slobbering and licking all over them. I had no idea men did that. I was shocked, but it felt great.

There were other surprises. I didn’t expect to be gagging on his thick cock, or expect that he’d seemed to want to pleasure in making me choke on it. But I sure as hell did choke on it. “Spit on it,” he ordered, so I did. “Lick,” he said, so I did, licking my own spit on his cock. I was slobbering up his cock as much as I could with my tongue, thinking that must be what he wanted. It felt good to do. I mean, what an iron rod, what a maypole. This was better than eating pussy, I thought, for sure. I wondered if I’d feel that way tomorrow, realizing I wouldn’t, so I’d better make the most of it now. This would have just seemed sick to me yesterday.

“Fuck me, fuck hard, fuck my ass,” I said to him. My ass had almost started to throb after getting fucked for a while, and it was starting to feel almost empty when it wasn’t getting fucked. Crazy but true, like I wanted him in there. I wondered if this was the prostrate being activated. I could feel it, almost like a heartbeat or something, inside my ass. “Put it in,” I said, wanting him to fuck me more, wanting to understand these sensations better. My ass was sore and yet it just felt so good. Fuck the pain away, and why not?

We took a breather and it was hard to even keep my hands off him for a little while. I wanted to at least massage his shoulders, wrap my arms around him, stroke his legs. If I didn’t have a life of my own, a successful, straight life, I could almost love this guy. The feelings were just so intense, drunk as I was. Probably the alcohol was causing the feelings, but did it matter? He was so beautiful to me. He made me feel sexy. We knew what to do with each other, even as new and awkward as I surely was. The dumb Russian voice Mikhail had was awkward, so fuck if it would matter if my technique was, too. This was all for my excitement, not for the sake of the performance, I remembered.

How long did we fuck? It must have been hours. Time passes at such strange rates when you’ve been partying. I remember my cock being sore, the skin rubbed raw, the thing just aching from the weight of the cock ring, swollen up, but not wanting to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could even get the ring off at this point, drunk as I was. Fuck the pain. “Harder,” I grunted at one part. “Fuck me harder. Deutschland!” I shouted, playful, in lust, this German sex king… my own command sounded like a woof. I really was his pet. But he was also mine.

I didn’t just pass out, I blacked out. I blacked out hard.

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn't remember cumming. I didn't even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. I needed to recoup.

I knew Boris and Mikhail were basically showboating a lot of this from the get-go, but after all that, I was really tired of this immersive experience shit. I didn’t know where the German went. I didn’t know if he even kissed me goodbye, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. This was the wildest trip I’ve ever been on, and definitely worth it. But I didn’t want to deal with this body. I didn’t want to be a fag any longer. I reached to remove the thumb ring when a sudden fear came over me, like I needed to think this through. I paused.

When I remove the ring, where would I end up? Strapped to a cross in a BDSM dungeon? In a Filipino jail? Who knew what sort of Willy Wonka arrangement these guys had in store for me? Hopefully this is just part of the game, or it’s something else that I’m not thinking of. I was trying not to panic. I was not feeling amused anymore. I just wanted out.

I was hungry, thirsty, sore, emotionally drained, horny, and I had a godawful craving for a smoke. Whatever they’ve done to my real body, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

I removed the ring.

Nothing happened.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I screamed ‘fuuuuuuck!’ until I was sobbing on the filthy bed. I was reduced to a crying mess, not surprisingly.

This is my body now. A trashy fag’s body, with an unrelenting sex drive, a smoking habit, a drinking habit, and I no doubt more addictions waiting to be discovered. No surprise he was eager to ditch it. I'm sure my hotel room was cleared out by now, the credit cards emptied to the limit. What would I do with the stuff there anyway? Clothes that doesn't fit and a passport I can't use. This is who I am now, and there is no way to even begin to explain it to anyone, without seeming like a madman.

I really needed a smoke.

[notafightr]

i dont have any specific questions but id really love to hear any thoughts on It that youd like to share!!!

okay so i have a big note in my phone of all the things i thought to point out or write down from the most recent time I read the book (the past month or so) because the time I read it before this one I annotated the whole thing and I was just gonna chillax with this time but I realized I was still finding new things that I even didn't find when I annotated it and I wanted to remember them so yeah a lot of it isn't coherent bc I figured I'd be the only one to ever see it and I'm not gonna transcribe it so enjoy what makes sense

I think the first chapter is told by Georgie. at the very beginning of the chapter, the pronoun "I" is used for the first time, "so far as I know" and then again at the end of the chapter, for the LAST time in the book, "I do not know where [the boat] finally fetched up", where the rest of the book doesn't once use this first person kind of syntax. the entire book as I've analyzed before uses third person POV, in which it is third person but not limited to one character, following the emotions/thoughts/etc of several different characters at different points. the first chapter is the first, last, the ONLY chapter that takes the third person point of view of Georgie, as he dies so we do not see from him again. since this chapter is the only one we see as Georgie's point of view, and it's the only chapter that uses I as a pronoun, making it first person, it's not really third person, but more of Georgie's first chronological look back on the beginning of the story, starting with his first experience of the events of It. it's even further proven to be less of an omniscient narrator than that of an unknowing one, such as Georgie, when the story begins saying "The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years—if it ever did end—began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.". This quote contradicts everything we know and come to find out through the course of the story, which is that It has been an ever present being in Derry since the beginning of time. It did not begin in 1957, like this narrator believes, which makes it clear that this is not the same narrator we read from for the rest of the book. So all in all I think this is some spiritual version of Georgie, any amount of years after the story, perhaps 27 years, perhaps a hundred, telling what he knows to us, the reader.

WHAT IF ITS MATURIN MORE ON THAT LATER

"Arms can be symbols of strength and power. We use our arms to carry and lift and move things, but we also use them to protect ourselves and others. “Arms” may also be used to refer to weapons that attack, or as “armour” to defend."

eddie lost his arm protecting the others

some sort of parallel with Stephen and Adrian.. both writers, s straight a gay, s ditches things that take longer than a few months to write, a 12 years on one book

PENNYWISE REFERS TO ADRIAN AS DONS FRIEND—

richie49 251 Richardsalley485

mike67

eddiec 251 901

I just realized no kid was killed in their home I think? no Frederick Cowan was

IGMMS on nightmare on elm Street in chapter one

possible reshoots: one from book one from not

Audra bike ride

mummy

photo album

eddie corcoran

the bird

dead boys

photo album dos

fridge

final flood

I'm caught

literally refers to Eddie as queerboy

a phantom appeared in the form of an old man.

Stan "looked like the world's tiniest adult" Stan was said to have the soul of an old man. tragic when you think about his fate. phantom in the form of an old man could refer to stan

427 ocd

14 430 parallel

584 Richie adhd

all losers only child

maybe in the end it's the voice that tells the stories more than the stories themselves that matter

Bowers HELPED them defeat it by bringing them all together

"'The victim was a gay and rather childlike man name Adrian Mellon. He had a bad case of asthma.'

Eddie's hand stole out and touched the side of his aspirator." (see page 507)

I need not cite anywhere that Eddie is asthmatic, this is common knowledge. But if we go back a few pages, specifically page 493;

"[Eddie's] face was prematurely lined (although in his movements he seemed somehow younger than either Richie or Ben),"

What do these descriptions of Adrian and Eddie have in common? Descriptive of how they are childlike, compared to those around them, and that they are both asthmatic. Not shown above but also common knowledge to anyone who's read the book, they both have other parallels including their death (killed by pennwise/It in which one of their arms is torn off) as well as the fact that the only use of the phrase "my love" is from Don to Adrian and Richie to Eddie.

I know we all know their deaths and the fact that they're asthmatic sets up parallels between them, but I really wanted to acknowledge the fact that within just 14 pages of each other, Eddie and Adrian are BOTH labeled as childlike (in Eddie's case, at least in comparison to those around him) which I think is VERY purposeful. This makes Adrian's only significant trait not explicitly mentioned about Eddie, that he's GAY. Therefore, heavily implying Eddie is as well.

jesus christ

so you're telling me. when Eddie goes down the street Greta and the Tracker Brothers both live on when the seven split up after the chinese food meet up, that he reminisces both on Belch and Greta, two people who bullied him, looking back on when they would play a sport (Greta croquet in her backyard, and Belch baseball in the tracker Brothers field), and then sees Belch as the leper offer him a blowjob? like the original leper? and so you're telling me, a little after that he sees It taunt him again as Greta but in a non sexual way? so basically you're telling me, Eddie sees It as Belch and Greta back to back, who both serve essentially the same character type, paralleling themselves in Eddie's point of view, only difference being their gender, and you're telling me, It chooses to taunt him as the leper offering a blowjob in BELCH'S form? not Greta's? you're telling me all that? that It sexually taunted him as a boy instead of a girl? so basically you're telling me Eddie is gay and It knows it

singer/reddie parallel Richard Penniman Eddie Cochran

"the two up cards were both the ace of spades"

"most spiritual card in the deck"

"SEVENS SEEM TO SURROUND THIS ACE"

BRUH STAN

preconditions 526 619

624 foreshadows Eddie's death when It taunts Henry as the losers but not Stan or Eddie

bruh eddies sexuality is so repressed he don't even know it but Richie he knows something. he knows he likes Eddie. that world of it book says paul Bunyan represents the masculinity Richie is attracted to... literally though... like Richie doesn't tell anyone about it ONCE not even once he never tells ANYONE he only tells his first experience as the one with bill!!! wtf!

check page 959 of annotated copy

ok i think the fact that henry deliberately chose Eddie first to kill is absolutely foreshadowing his being the next death of the losers club, he could have gone to the closest one being Richie on floor two but he for some reason chose the one furthest up? ok worm

973 did kaspbrak have a wife? maybe that was a stupid thing to say.

huh I wonder why Henry would have any doubt that Eddie has a wife

THEN HE CALLS HIM A SKINNY LITTLE CREEP

WHATS THE NUMBER ONE REASON A HATEFUL MAN WOULD CALL ANOTHER HARMLESS MAN A CREEP

982 Henry literally calls Eddie a fag i

all the slurs henry uses are specifically geared toward a fact based trait of each loser

rocks symbolise strength and stability

very repeated through the book since the apocalyptic rock fight

I kinda don't like that Eddie's ability to navigate was so lately introduced seemingly as a plot device

thank god for small favors... he slapped eddies can....... z z. xxnejsm

ONE OF EDDIE CORCORANS ARMS WAS GONE IN ITS WEB!!!!! THE FORESHADOWING DOESNT STOP

spiders symbolize fear turtle symbolizes creator, persistence, endurance, longevity

1098 Eddie goes to Bev first because he's the most "frightened" he goes to her as he would go to a mother. he does this sexual act with a GIRL in a maternal context

send more questions and headcanons to my inbox!

[mumofadaofficial-blog]

Welcome to the World

I decided it was probably right to take you back to the start of this journey and maybe help you to understand what we have been through. Its probably gonna be a long, emotional one but its important. 

The 14th July will forever be a special day to me, Ada’s Birthday, and what a day that turned out to be! Ten days overdue we eventually welcomed our special little girl into the world and wow did she make sure she did it in full dramatic style!

I was called in on Friday 13th to be induced (should of known there and then!). I was put into my little bay in my bed, Shortly after I was examined and given a pessary…ladies you will know what that means 😳 very pleasant! I was then popped onto a monitor for half an hour and all was normal. Eventually it got late so Nath went home, there wasn’t much point in him staying, although I was petrified I would go into labour and he wouldn’t wake up to my phone calls and miss the whole thing! I settled down for the night but didn’t get much sleep.The following morning my hero (Nath) bought me a McDonalds breakfast in bed and all was right in the world, monitor readings were fine and the waiting game began. 

Then it started! Short, sharp pains, lasting about 30 seconds every 3 minutes or so. Now I have a high pain threshold but this was next level, I was convinced that something was wrong and was overdue my CTG reading so went to see my midwife. I was offered paracetamol, advised to go for a walk or have a bath. At that stage I asked to be put back onto the monitor as I was overdue to be. We then started to see that something was going wrong, the heart rate had dropped and was struggling to recover to a normal reassuring rate. Immediately I wanted that baby out and asked for a c-section! Unfortunately, it took two more heart rate drops and over an hour before that decision was granted - along with trying to be convinced that I should have my waters broke and try for a natural birth! I mean, I’m not doctor but realistically what chance did I stand of that happening and everything being ok. 

The whole time that this is happening and theres a million different members of staff flying in and out of the room and discussing whats going on with my baby I was still in the induction suite. I remember being very aware of the fact that there was three other woman in that room waiting to have their babies, all being able to hear the nightmare we were having. I can get over the fact of having no privacy, after three sweeps and god knows how many examinations my dignity was at an all time low anyway. But I remember afterwards thinking how petrifying it must of been for those other woman to hear what was happening whilst waiting to go through the stressful time that is labour themselves. 

Eventually I was moved into another room, the doctor was till trying to convince me to have my waters broke rather than a section and said they would give me 30 minutes to think about it, at the time I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that - now I realise a bloody lot can happen in 30 minutes with an unborn baby and what the hell were they thinking?! I rang my mum, as you do, for advice. She said what I thought and that I should have a section straight away - I remember feeling absolutely helpless. Putting your life and your unborn babies life in the hands of a complete stranger that is telling you everything you don’t want to hear. Whilst on the phone, the heart rate went again and she made the decision for us. 

Within minutes I was in the delivery suite I was told to sit on the operating table and bend over and hug a pillow, they then injected me in my spine and made me lay down straight away. The anaesthetist told me to lift my legs towards the ceiling and I couldn’t…strangest feeling in the world! Your mind is telling your legs so hard to work and they just won’t…desired effect had obviously happened! I don’t think I have ever felt so petrified as to what was about to happen, with Nath at my side in his scrubs we were ready for it. 

From 15 minutes to entering the room Ada was born! We heard two small cries and then the worst silence, I knew there was something wrong but couldn’t move to see what was happening. At this point I had never seen my child, didn’t know if we had a son or a daughter or what state the baby was in. Just that there was a shit ton of people surrounding our baby and Nathan was really badly trying to reassure me that everything was ok. I just remember crying and wishing I could do anything to be able to get off that table and do something. 

Our midwife came over shortly and informed us that ‘she’ was doing ok but was very poorly. SHE?! We’d had a little girl which was such a massive shock, myself and the majority of other people were convinced we were having a boy. She explained that Ada had inhaled her poo and that they were going to have to take her to the NICU straight away. With that she was gone, I’d seen a brief glimpse of masses of jet black hair as they pushed her past me and a photo they had allowed Nathan to take on his phone. I didn’t get to hold her, touch her, kiss her, just a quick glimpse as she left the room. 

We were then moved into a side room whilst they sorted me out and stabilised Ada, my mum joined us at the hospital and then we had to wait. Id like to say it felt like hours, but it actually was hours. Various people came in and out and its all a bit of a blur I think because of shock at that time, we were told she had meconium aspiration syndrome and was very very poorly. 

I was told I could go and see her once I could feel my legs, I definitely couldn’t feel my legs but lied and said I could. Around 3 hours after Ada was born I was helped into a wheelchair by a lovely health assistant, Nathan and my mum and taken down to NICU to meet my daughter for the first time. It’s not even far from the delivery suite but it felt like the longest trip down the corridor to meet her and I have never felt so sick. And there she was, laying there with a group of people working away, tube down her throat and wires all over her, but it was her and she was perfect. It’s very hard to explain the emotions that go through your mind at a time like that. But I can remember the overwhelming feeling of love, like I had never known before. And then fear, fear of what was going to happen to her, what was it they were actually doing to her? All these different drugs being pumped into her and people trying to tell you what is going on but not being able to process anything because all I could do was look at her. I was taken back to my bed and we were told that she was going to be transferred to Norwich as they had better equipment. Before she was able to be transferred they had to stabilised her, it must of been around 5 hours before she was ready to go. Unfortunately due to just having major surgery myself I was unable to travel with Ada, if anything happened to me they would leave me in order to save Adas life. I was to travel behind in a blue light ambulance so if anything went wrong I would be able to be reunited with Ada as soon as possible. So the responsibility fell down to Nathan, I have never felt so guilty knowing that he was going to have to do that journey by himself, not knowing the fate of Ada. Nath being Nath took it in his stride, had a fag and a brew and got himself ready to go. 

I was taken down to NICU to say goodbye to her before her journey to Norwich and it wasn’t until that point that I realised just how bad things were. There was an amazing team of people called ANTS who were getting her ready and about to transfer her into what I can only describe as some sort of baby spaceship for the ambulance, Drugs and wires rigged up everywhere! Some people may think that the woman was too harsh and blunt but she was probably the most honest person I had spoken to up until that point. She crouched down on the floor in front of me and told me that “I needed to prepare myself” I was taken a back, she then said something that will ring through my ears and haunt me most probably for the rest of my life “Your baby might not make this journey Amy”. It literally felt like my stomach had dropped out on the floor beneath me. I could see that it had cut threw Nathan and then I looked at my mum who was clearly trying so hard to be positive but it had got her too. I gave Ada a kiss, left the room and went back to wait for my ambulance feeling numb. Then I cried like I have never cried before in my life. In a way that I didn’t even know it was possible. 

I remember apologising over and over again to my mum, in my mind at that time I had given her a granddaughter that I was convinced was going to die and I just blamed myself. Nathan came in to say goodbye before leaving and I was still trying to be brave, telling him that whatever happened it was not his fault and that he didn’t have to worry, we could get through it together. 

Minutes after he had left somebody came in to inform me that I couldn’t have an ambulance as the ambulance service did not think that I needed one. Due to the fact that I wasn’t critical myself, even though I had just had major surgery, I could have one but it could take up to 4 hours to provide it. It even says in my notes that we received afterwards ‘that they appreciate my child might die before it reaches Norwich but there is nothing they can do’. Well we didn’t have 4 hours to wait so I left the hospital and travelled to Norwich in my mums car, around 5 hours after a c section! Its alarming to me now that there was no advice given to my mum as to what she should do if something went wrong with me, we just left. During this Nathan had text me to see if we had set off, presuming I was going to be in an ambulance, you can imagine his shock when I text him back saying that I was going in my mums car, he’s since told me he’s never been so worried that he was going to end up without both of us. 

By the time of me leaving, Nathans mum and dad had travelled down from up north and picked my dad up to meet us at the hospital, we then all travelled over to Norwich and met Nathan at the entrance. Ada was already inside and the incredible NICU team were working their magic on her. 

I still haven’t and very much need to thank the team at Norwich for the miracles they worked on Ada. When we entered the unit everyone was so calm even though they were dealing with one of the most stressful situations ever. They all welcomed me in as ‘Mum’ the first time I had been called that in my life! I could of spoken to a million people that night and I would never ever be able to tell you who they were or what they said to me, there is only certain parts that stick out in my memory. Our parents were allowed in with us for support and to meet Ada, a really happy yet sad moment to introduce your parents to their grandchild in that circumstance. 

I think around 5am me and Nathan went to bed, we were then woken up around 6am as we were needed for a meeting on the NICU unit with Adas consultant. Instantly my heart sank as I was prepared for the worst news. We went in for the meeting and I can still hear the woman asking me how I felt and all I could respond with was “pretty shit” She told me that was probably the most honest thing that anyone would say to her all day. She then went on to tell us that they had done everything they could with Ada, tried every treatment and thrown the kitchen sink at her but she wasn’t responding to it and making no improvement. Our last option was that they would try to find her a bed wherever one was available in the UK to give her a treatment called ECMO. At the time I never looked at what it was just agreed that we would try anything possible, I’ve since found out that they fit an artificial heart and lung, entering through the neck to try and give hers a rest and let it recover! It really is amazing what they can do.

They found her a bed at Birmingham children’s hospital and made plans for her to be transported, this consisted of an ambulance coming up from Great Ormond Street Hospital and then travelling through to Birmingham. Again, Nathan would have to travel with Ada and I would have to go separately with my mum and dad. When the ambulance arrived they started to prep Ada for the journey but realised that something was wrong with the ambulance so they wouldn’t be able to transport her in that one, they called for another to be sent. In that 2 hour delay something happened and Ada started to respond to her treatment, maybe she just didn’t fancy Birmingham?! The odds were completely stacked against her but she did it! 

From then on she improved daily, all those silly things that people take for granted we were longing to happen. Just to be able to celebrate with people that our baby was here without it being tinged with sadness. By day 4 they had decreased her sedation, changed her oxygen and we saw her open her eyes for the first time. Day 5 she was moving her arms and legs, and after a long wait we got to hold her for the first time - five whole days we waited to hold her in our arms! Ok, so it wasn’t how I wanted it to be but I realise now that waiting that time made it all the more special - I got my moment. We heard her cry! That sounds so simple but if it hasn’t happened you just want and want to hear it (I wish she did it less now!). By day 8 I could start feeding her myself, something that was really important to me as I wanted that bond. Nathan also decided on day 8 to propose to me! I think he was trying to write me off with emotions and see how much I could take 😂 Day 13 we were able to give her a bath ourselves and by Day 15 we were bringing her home to King’s Lynn. Bittersweet for me considering the start we had there but at least we were closer to family and friends. 

After 25 days in hospital we were able to take Ada home, on oxygen, but we didn’t care as long as she was home. To get her home and shut the door was incredible, no machines bleeping, no nurses, just us as a family. 

On the 27th August we got the go ahead from the hospital that her readings had come back fine and after a stressful few weeks we were able to turn her oxygen off, she’s still going now so it must of been the right decision! 

Its been in no way easy but its been so worth all the hard times and tears. We went to hospital as a couple and left as a family, a little later than we hoped for but we got there eventually. 

I am so grateful that Nathan is the person that he is. Not many men would stay in hospital for that long and he was the thing that got me through everyday. He was always positive when I didn’t know how to be, and I will love him always for what he has given me.  

I’m thankful to both of sets of our parents for being there for us, to my mum for travelling to Norwich almost everyday - knowing that someone is coming to see you at 3pm everyday really makes a difference. And to our family and friends for the visits, messages, well wishes, cards and how they continue to shower Ada with the love. 

No matter how much stuff you buy or how many people give you advice, nothing can prepared you for the whirlwind that a tiny human brings. But love or learn from every minute of it and always remember how important it is to support each other through the good or bad. 

Amy x

[smnthchrstn]

February 13, 2019

Two years. Someone’s life can change so drastically in two years. I’m sorry if this is a little all over the place, but I’m a little all over the place. When I was ten I had my first crush on a girl, when I was seventeen I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a girl, and at twenty decided to come out. If you know me personally then you’ve heard this story about nine-hundred and ninety-nine times and you’re about to hear it for your one-thousandth.

The decision to come out never came easily, but I’m certain that it saved my life. Let me take you back to that wonderful time period - most people were arguing over why Hillary’s emails couldn’t be forgiven or why Trump had to be “the lesser of two evils”. I watched them calculate votes and watched how each state went in agony. Most of my friends couldn’t keep it together and I tried to be the voice of encouragement for everyone. I sat on my bed that night and cried for hours. I cried for all minorities that would be undoubtedly affected by the win. I had another reason for the way I thought that night. I messaged one of my friends and in a roundabout way expressed to her that I saw no point anymore and that I wanted to kill myself. More than Trump’s win caused that.

I found out a great deal about myself and a great deal about my loved ones during that election. I learned as a closeted gay person that my family didn’t only disapprove of the LGBT community, they were straight-forward about their ignorance and hatred. I couldn’t go to a holiday without hearing the word “fag” thrown around. I heard my own grandma urge my mom to vote for Trump so “they” could try to reverse the legalization of same-sex marriage. My aunt referred to it as “fag marriage” and called a lesbian wedding a “dyke wedding”. My cousins - ten and eleven at the time would make constant jokes, my whole family did. I remember a particular time though when my cousin showed my mom the “I side with” site; a quiz you could take to see the political candidate you match up with based on your personal stance on certain issues. I looked over her shoulder as she hit “no” that same-sex marriage shouldn’t be legal and that they shouldn’t have the right to marry. I asked why she did that and got lectured in the car about how it wasn’t what God wanted and that even if other people participate in that “lifestyle” that we don’t have to hate, but don’t have to agree either. I got upset and asked her what she’d do if she woke up and felt nothing for men; what happened to people who pray and pray and nothing changes? She didn’t have an answer, but it still broke me. During the 2016 election, I branded myself as the world’s most outspoken LGBT ally. I was hiding and on November 9th, 2016 I woke up knowing that I couldn’t keep going unless I let it out.

I’d had a few close encounters. On a day in early 2016 when my mom jokingly asked “please tell me you aren’t asexual don’t do that to yourself you’re so young” and “dear God, don’t be gay”. I thought she knew that I identified as asexual, but she didn’t take me seriously. It happened again the next time I tried to come out as asexual. She told me not to decide that and asked me if I liked girls. I lied. It almost happened again the night after my friend talked me down from the suicidal thoughts I’d been dealing with. I couldn’t do it. I went home and constructed an articulate letter. It was eight pages long typed and built a good visual of how I’d figured it all out. The letter had tons of “proof”, explained how I still believe in God and finished with begging my mom to still love me. I read it to my best friend over the phone, that’s how I came out as gay to my best friend. From the start she’d offered to be there when I came out to my mom. I never would’ve had the guts to do it without her. I spent the next several weeks making three hour-long videos; one to describe how I felt about liking girls, one to describe how I felt about asexuality and another on the dynamic of the feelings I had when I was seventeen. I called it my “proof” because I didn’t think my mom would believe me, and she didn’t at first. During the time I prepped my coming out, I struggled with very constant and severe anxiety. I couldn’t eat, struggled to sleep and couldn’t focus on anything other than the task at hand and the possible repercussions I’d face for telling the truth.

The day had arrived and without my friend, I think I would’ve had a nervous breakdown. The only way I can describe it is by admitting that I had to disassociate myself to get it all out. In the end, it went okay. My mom didn’t think I’d been possessed, she didn’t send me to a church group or a psychiatrist. She had denial and would often ask me: “Are you sure you liked this person? Maybe, you were just close friends.” I went to my first Pride that year and came out to my dad in May, which also scared me shitless. I’ve spent the past two years coming out to family and friends.

Since then? Last year, I came out to the majority of my extended family, went to Pride again (that time my mom tagged along), got into my first real relationship and my first real breakup and now I have a wonderful girlfriend that I’m lucky to be capable of liking openly and without limitations or guilt.

It took me a very long time to like myself. It took years to undo what I’d been taught. It took what felt like forever to realize that loving girls is a blessing. Being gay is something I hold so close to my heart and I honestly feel lucky to feel this way. As I told my mom after I came out: “Some people feel warm and fuzzy about boys. Some people feel warm and fuzzy about boys and girls. Some people feel warm and fuzzy about everyone. I happen to only feel warm and fuzzy about girls” and it’s far from a disadvantage - it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Thanks for reading. <3

[abalonetea]

so probably best to start the whole thing off with a post about the main character himself, Skittles!

this is going to bounce around a lot, sorry y’all

okay, so, Skittles. he’s a mess, and i’m throwing that disclaimer out right now. the whole story hinges on the fact that he has a Rough Life that gets better for a little bit and then Gets Bad Again. this is rectified for good in the sequel series, but whatever!

he’s from a small town out in the middle of nowhere, New Jersey. it’s from the region closer to New York, but i’ve elected not to pick an actual existing home town because that seems complicated. anyway! Skittles is obviously not his real name, but he hates his real name and refuses to use it with anyone, pretty much ever. even his twin, Asher, just calls him Skittles.

they grew up in the sort of town where everyone knows everyone, probably a little more strictly religious than anyone would like. the basic idea is that their mother, Cynthia, had an affair, and Skittles ended up looking exactly like the guy she cheated on Hank with. his upbringing ends up being rough because of this - Hank’s not that great of a guy, big drinking problem, big anger problem, big issue with their wiley red-headed son. so even though Asher is the Official Bad Kid, Skittles gets the rotten end of the stick.

add in the fact that he gets picked on a lot out at school, particularly once he hits his older years and his natural flamboyant self started showing up. eventually, he comes to think “well fuck them if that’s what they think of me” and it’s partially where his nickname comes from. he embraces the rainbow, so to speak, and thinks that it’s Way More Funny Than It Is.

flash forward a few years. Skittles gets kicked out of school, and then he gets kicked out of his house. Asher hooks him up with the Friend Of A Friend’s Brother down in Florida, and Skittles couch surfs and hitch hikes his way there.

enter Eric.

Eric is Not A Good Guy.

he’s the kind of guy that see’s you’ve got a lot of broken edges and uses that to his advantage. he’s the kind of guy with a mean temper. the kind of guy that seems Really Great until you’ve known him too long to back out without help. 

he’s a dick, but one with a silver tongue and a charming persona. 

still, for a while, things are okay. Skittles and Eric get along well enough, and eventually they go out to a concert together. it’s just some little thing at a local bar, and the lead singer has a horrible voice but their style catches Skittles attention and he realizes that he really, genuinely can make a go at being that rockstar he always talked about back home.

enter Vipers N Honey.

they genuinely think that Skittles is Much Older Than He Is. he’s got a pretty face, wears a ton of make-up, has already had a rough go of it, and carries himself like a twenty year old that’s angry at the world. plus, he’s got a killer fake ID. 

so he sweet talks and sweet sings his way into the band; they really just want a pretty face as their cover, not realizing that it’s Skittles vocals and lyrics that are going to take them on a straight streak to the top.

so that’s how it starts.

desperately. 

and then a little about Skittles in general!

*he has undiagnosed BPD and DID *brilliant red hair. paler skin. tons and tons of freckles. his thighs look like someone’s splattered paint on them, and he burns like a biscuit. *grows to consider VNH not just a way out of his bad life, but as a family. once he gets his own apartment, thanks to Tony and Snazzy, he has an open door policy that most band members take up. it kills him when VNH breaks up. *eyebrows pierced. naval pierced. ears pierced. nipples pierced. other things pierced. wanted to get his tongue pierced, too, but was scared it might mess him up on set. *genuinely loves the aesthetic of the glam rock scene. loves the make-up, the hair, the clothes. has a pair of leather red thigh high boots that become part of his Most Iconic Look and years later people will still ask, “do you still have those?” and the answer is yes but Skittles always says no, because he doesn’t like being mistaken for the same person as back then.

*has a high, warbling laugh. has steady hands. smokes too much but it’s the 80′s and he’s famous so no  one’s going to say anything to him. prefers fruity flavored drinks but will down a bottle of jack in a heartbeat if he’s In A Mood

*is best friends with Marcello, a Brazillian guitarist that follows the band for a while, and has a bit of a crush on William, but that never comes into being until the Sequel Series.

*goes hard or goes home. likes to talk. likes to make jokes. has a bad temper and likes the thrill of the fight. adrenaline makes him feel more steady, more stable. it’s why he takes up drums after VPN ends.

*hates even the idea of pity for a really long time. if he’s made it this far on his own, he can make it the rest of the way on his own. also hates to be considered a failure, because that’s what people have called him for years. quickest way to make him mad, tbh.

*has a very complicated relationship with Asher. they lovingly call each other “bitch” and “fag” but will break the nose of anyone else who says it. will punch each other in the guts without a thought and grew up getting into very violent fights with each other because they both Have Issues but will also give each other their last buck and the only chunk of chicken in the fridge without batting an eye. 

*Skittles is actually a more stable influence than anyone else in the band. he’s kind of the Dad Friend, even with all his Issues and Life Happenings. this only becomes more apparent later on in life, during the sequel.

and i’ll tag @simplelinesunfashiond because she prompted this whole debacle, and @deadlyessencewhispers because she has to deal with looking at everything that i write!

this was so much fun sorry i rambled

[dashafromrussia26]

Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin. Part 6

After every document about Leda clones was shredded and burnt Delphine sat on the sofa and poured herself a glass of Balvenie - 50 Year Old Scotch Whisky that her father’s lawyer and best friend presented to her as a gift after her graduation from the university. She kept it for special occasion but it seemed like it is the last chance to open the bottle. Besides, she would need some courage for everything she was planning to do next.

The whisky was rich and spicy. The taste of dried berries and a lingering sweetness in her throat made this moment feel weirdly epic. Little water drops from melting ice on the outside of the glass streaming down right between her fingers calmed Delphine down a little bit. It was her two minutes of clarity – pure vacuum in her head without fear, hatred or regrets. It was only her and that drink with slight taste of ginger and cinnamon and nothing could take that moment from her. She probably would be happy if a killer would show up right now because she felt calm and ready.

She dug around in her purse for a minute before dragging out a fag and a lighter. It took her a little while to lit it because the pack and her favorite cigarettes in it were wet because of the rain outside and then she took a long drag breathing the smoke from the cigarette in completely, not stopping for anything, as she usually does when she needs to gather her wits, even though she knew that her voice would become lower and wooly after it.

She had to decide what to tell Shay. It was clear that she has no right to disclose the information about Cosima’s heritage without her consent. Well maybe she might do that - the last time Cosima’s desires didn’t really bother Delphine because she kept the information about Kira’s stem cells in secret for a good reason which was still permanent. Well at least Delphine was sure that saving Cosima’s life was number one priority and asking someone’s permission would put the process in danger. She had one way forward back then, but now…Delphine didn’t know if there was a way at all. But what she knew for sure is that she wanted to let Cosima decide for herself this time who to trust.

Delpine would never let herself drive a car while she is drunk, but, after all, it was ridiculous to care about her own safety in existing situation. Nonetheless, she decided to choose by-pas roads on her way to Shay’s house for the other drivers and pedestrians’ sake.

She left the gun in the car despite the fact that Shay might react aggressively after what she’s done to her. And she couldn’t blame Shay for that. However, she couldn’t blame herself for behaving that way either. But one thing Delphine felt ashamed of was this strong feeling of disappointment when she realized that she wouldn’t be able to get rid of this little bitch. Even though Shay probably is a good girl and maybe Delphine should’ve been angry at Cosima who gave up on Delphine and jumped to another chick’s bed so easily. But it is not easy to think straight when it comes to jealousy and protective reaction for someone you love that much.

She knocked Shay’s door quietly, hoping she was home.

Shay’s face has changed in a moment she realized who was knocking.

“Go before I call the police” – Shay said with a poorly hided fear in her voice.

“Shay please! I don’t need to come in” – Delphine put her hands up trying to show that she has no intention to hurt her this time - “Just hear me out. I know what I did was unforgivable but I also know that Cosima really cares for you” – Delphine tried to sound nice but confident, but saying that words out loud was harder then she expected – “and I think” – her voice cracked and it took her intensive efforts to swallow her pride and pain and continue – “I think you two fit”.

“I don’t give a damn what you think” – Shay tried to sound as venomous as possible looking with that eyes full of hatred that no one could possibly imagine being combined with that pure angelic blue colored eyes and sweet face.

“Just know this. I won’t be in your way anymore. But it has to begin with a truth” – Shay was standing there knuckling her hand and being ready to fight back if something goes wrong – “I want you to give her this” – Delphine passed Shay a DYAD institute’s card with Cosima’s «324B21» ID-tag written on it – “and tell her that I said to tell you everything…” - Shay looked worried and a little bit surprised at the same time. She felt that something wrong is happening with Delphine because this incredibly powerful woman that aroused fear in Shay by her presence itself seemed broken – “If she wants to. It’s her decision” – Delphine finally raised her eyes at Shay with her eyebrows lifted up trying to smile and keep at least some of the dignity she used to have. But all the suffer and struggle she’d been through couldn’t been hidden behind that mask of a Superwomen. She got choked up with tears and only one thing she was able to say was - “Be good to her”.

Even though Shay truly hated Delphine it was heartbreaking to see that agony in her eyes. Probably it was that moment of female sympathy but she didn’t want Delphine to be in torment. But still, Shay was truly afraid of Delphine to even say anything back. And she didn’t have a chance to do it as Delphine quickly turned over and went out the building.

 -//-

 Delphine had been driving in her car around the block for an hour already trying to figure out what to tell Cosima. She clearly couldn’t tell her the truth because Cosima would fight for her even if it put them both in danger. For both of them taking steps was easier than standing still but this time she had to let this happen. But the Blonde needed to see her. She had so much to say to her but none of the words that were lingering in her head seemed appropriate. Delphine knew that she had to use all of her self-control to make it right. There was no more time to waste. Now or never.

She parked the car near the entrance to Alison & Donnie's «Bubbles» and came out of the car to enjoy the cold weather of Toronto for the last time. She loved that Canadian fresh air and these incredibly friendly people, this architecture and this delicious chocolate. Hard to say goodbye to that city.

Delphine heard the door was opened and turned her face just in time to see Cosima bundling up in her coat – this girl from San Fran has huge problems with this freezing Canadian winds. It was hard to ignore that she was wearing the same red coat that she wore that day when they attended Leekie’s lecture on Neolution. Delphine could swear the God that it was the last time when she felt so incredibly free while running around campus with two bottles of stolen wine, holding Cosima’s hand and laughing out loud pretending that she is just a foreign student trying to be friendly.

“Hey you came” – Cosima said with a slight relief.

“Yeah unfortunately I can’t stay” – Delphine tried to sound relaxed but with every second that she was standing near Cosima her heart rate was raising dangerously fast and it took her all the effort to stand still. She had to play it cool. She had to make sure that she wouldn’t give Cosima any promise or any hope for their reunion. Or maybe she had to make sure that she wouldn’t hope for happy ending for them after all.

“Oh not for a little bit?”

“No, I'm sorry. I need you to keep the sequenced genome safe and Kendall Malone far away”.

“Yeah, I think Mrs. S is really good at that stuff, so... she's got a plan” – Cosima looked confused because all of that was obvious. She couldn’t understand why Delphine looked so worried.

“Okay” – “Now go, Cormier. Until you do something reckless. You saw her. She is here. She is alive. She is with her family. Just say you are sorry and let her go” – Delphine was trying to persuade herself to leave.

“I know why you did everything you did. To Shay and… everything” – Delphine never expected this conversation to turn that way. She could never imagine that Cosima would understand and forgive her. But with every word Cosima said it was getting harder to leave. She had never thought that she needed forgiveness until she got it - “I'm sorry I made you make those hard choices and then... And then blamed you for them” – these words broke her shield, she cracked. She cracked like the last time when Cosima told her she came back for her. What Delphine was hoping for? At the end of the day only this tiny woman had this effect on her – all the walls she had been building to play the role she had to play were unable to keep Cosima.

That pain in her chest was overpowering. Delphine bit her lip trying to hold tears that were ready to stream down her face. She pressed her hands to the body hard trying remain control.

Cosima could see the storm raging in Delphine’s soul and she wanted to tell her how much she loves her, that she would never let anything bad happen and everything would be okay as far as they are together. She wanted to hold her and never let go.

And that look they shared. They didn’t have to say “I love you”. Their eyes showed that. Their eyes full of adoration – that look that a dog gives to his owner. The look full of pain and such indescribable love. Such love could start a war, tear everything apart and rebuild it again. The love that build bridges not walls. This almighty love. The love that will exist even after they are dead. The love that would never goes away.

The blonde gently ran a hand over Cosima’s cheek trying to memorise every inch of her beloved woman’s face. She bitterly smiled because that smaller woman made her happy again… even in this awful day.

“Oh mia, oh mia” – Delphine couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was selfish but the last thing she wanted to do before she dies is to kiss her soulmate. Delphine pressed her lips tightly against Cosima’s. Too forced, because Delphine knew this kiss was going to be the last and wanted to savor it for eternity. The brunette’s lips were smooth, supple. Delphine’s hands caressed her head, thumbs sliding up to Cosima’s flushed cheeks. The world fell away with that kiss. It was continued slowly and deeply, comforting in ways that words would never be. Delphine stopped the kiss to look at Cosima one more time.

“Give your sisters all my love” – Delphine said smiling smoothly running her finger over Cosima’s lip. And had to harness all of her will power to walk away.

 -//-

 Delphine stepped out of the vehicle to go to DYAD institute to finish some of her work when she heard the footsteps behind.

She kept moving praying to every God that might watch over her, even though she was not a believer, to let this happen fast.

After two more steps she put her bag on the floor and turned around to face the one who had her life in his arms. It was no surprise that Detective Duko was the killer.

“What will happen to her?” – Delphine wanted passionately to hear that Cosima would be safe before it happened. The sound of a gunshot broke the silence of the underground parking lot reverberating and thus lasting for the eternity in Delphine’s head. Searing pain bit through her skin, muscles, liver and back. She saw that Duko was aiming to her head to finish her off and she looked him in the eyes holding to the last ounce of strength to show him that her dying is just a step for them to end a war and she will fight with her dying breath until it is over.

She was going in and out of consciousness. The terrible burning feeling through the path of a bullet knocked her out and made her hold on to life again. That one sensation that was killing her kept her in conscious at the same time. Delphine tried to hold the wound tightly to stop the hemorrhage but her hands became slippery from the flood of blood and were becoming weaker with every second.

Random pictures in her head followed each other flashing: her first chemical experiment with her father, their fuss on the tree house, the lullaby her grandma used to sing her when Delphine was scared, the first meeting with Cosima, their jogging in the Campus, their first night together, her eyes, her soft hands, her smile and childish giggle, her dancing in the kitchen, and also some things that would never happen: Delphine proposing to Cosima, their vows, first dance under a huge oak with the sounds of string quartet playing James Vincent McMorrow’s “Cavalier”, unpacking boxes in their first house, their babies running around the playground, their first gray hairs… Delphine was slowly falling to the black hole and could hardly see the familiar faces above her and feel herself removed. Her last thoughts before black out were centered around Cosima and she felt not alone dying with her name on her lips. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724469

[artificialqueens]

The Trouble with Soul Mates (Vatya/Pearlet)- Squeaky

When you turn thirteen, the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your arm. Jason’s tattoo confuses him.

OR: A ru-telling of Jason’s past and Season 7 ft soulmate tattoos.

Jason’s friends had warned him that soul mate tattoos didn’t always work out. Most of the time, they were nothing but a standard greeting or a cryptic word like ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or 'maybe.’ There were horror stories of people waking up on their thirteenth birthdays to blanks.

Was there anything worse than a blank? Jason had nightmares of bare arms, and he’d wake up in cold sweats.

Jason would browse Reddit and feel his heart break. He read sob story after sob story about people whose words were written in another language, and they never found someone to properly translate. People who discovered their soulmates were married and unwilling to leave their family. People who discovered their soulmate at ninety nine only to die the next day. Jason wasn’t sure which were fiction and which fact.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie” his mother reassured him the night before his thirteenth birthday.

“But how can I not worry about it?” Jason cried. “It’s only the most important thing that’ll ever happen to me.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she sighed as she turned off his lights, “Go to bed.”

How could he sleep? It felt like the night before Christmas, and he couldn’t close his eyes without his heart racing and palms sweating. He crept back onto his computer and looked up soulmate compilation videos featuring Kimye and all the other celebrity couples he loved.

He passed out in front of his computer and, when he woke up, Jason felt a tingling sensation on his arm.

He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and looked down. There it was! He was so excited that the words blurred in front of his eyes. He could tell it was a long sentence -not just a single word!- and he couldn’t stop shaking.

Finally, Jason took a deep breathe and read out loud: “Bitch…you’re not winning drag race.”

Wait…what?

Why would the love of his life call him a bitch and then tell him he wasn’t going to win something? Even more strange, Jason had no clue what a 'drag race’ was. He locked himself in the bathroom with his phone.

Jason typed into Google- 'what is drag race?’.

Wikipedia informed him that 'drag race (n) is a race between two or more cars over a short distance, usually a quarter of a mile, as a test of acceleration.’ Jason wanted to cry; he fucking hated cars, so why would he get into drag racing?!

He scrolled down to another link entitled 'Rupaul’s Drag Race.’ He clicked on it and saw a women with large breasts and overdrawn lips and…no, that wasn’t a woman. Another couple clips sent him swirling into a dark hole full of heels, lipstick, and, uh, 'tucking.’ Why were these queens all screaming at one another and singing along to Madonna? Who was Raven and why had she been robbed?

His mother knocked on his door: “Sweetie, anything you want to share with me?”

Not really.

————–

He went to the mall the next day and bought up a whole cart full of long sleeved sweaters with his mother. They shopped in silence. Jason wondered what she thought about his tattoo, but he didn’t dare to ask after the long, sullen stare she’d had given the black letters.

“Embarrassing tat?” the store cashier teased as Jason dumped the sweaters onto the counter.

He nodded.

“Ah, don’t worry. You know what my best friend’s tat was? 'I didn’t know she was your sister!’ Now, that has to be worst thing that a thirteen year old could ever wake up to, amirighte?”

Jason bit his lip to stop himself from giggling and simply shrugged. He didn’t want to be amused right now. He wanted to be miserable.

“Well, at least you got one,” the lady said as she handed him the bag, “My arm’s been blank for six years now and…well…every morning I still check.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Jason stuttered as he took the bag and gaped at her blank arm. Suddenly, he wasn’t as miserable.

As they walked through the mall, Jason couldn’t help but stare longingly at Sephora. His tattoo meant that he would do drag…didn’t it? What would his lips look like in bright red? His mother tugged him away from the Sephora’s.

When he got home, Jason stared sullenly at the sweaters and then shoved them into the back of the closet. Instead, he picked out a tank top and wore it proudly to school the next day. Sure, Jason was sent to the nurse’s office to 'cover up’ the inappropriate word on his arm with a band-aid, but he ripped it off as soon as the final bell rang.

“That tattoo means you’re gonna be a fag and a loser,” the local bully taunted him as he gathered up his books. 

“No, it means I’m going to win a lifetime supply of makeup, and you’re going to watch me slay the game and find my soulmate. All while you sit home alone.”

The black eye was worth it.

————–

Jason got a fake ID when he was seventeen. He tugged his hair back into a bun and painted his lips a dark purple for the occasion, and while the makeup made him appear older, he still looked like a middle schooler. Even the pink, prom dress he had stolen from his mother’s closet seemed childish.

“They are not going to give you any alcohol,” his friend Tammy teased.

“Bitch, how is it my fault I look five?”

“Bad genetics I guess. Speaking of which…what did your mom say?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Jason snorted. “She’d tear my hair out if she knew that I was going down to the club in a pair of heels and her old dress. Like come on. Really, queen?”

“You’ve been watching Rupaul, huh?”

“Duh. As soon as I’m old enough I’m going to send in my application. Maybe if you followed my blog, you’d be in the know.”

Jason had proudly decorated his arm with glitter to show off the tattoo, and the black letters glimmered under the streetlight. He could hear the beat of the music even from a block away. Jason felt a tug in his chest when he saw a drag queen -in person for the first time!- but he felt too shy to wave as she flounced by. Instead, he bit his lip and impatiently tapped his heels.

The bouncer squinted dubiously at theirs IDs, shrugged, and let them through. Inside, the whole place was alive with bubbles and strobe lights. Jason was sure that he had just left the real world and floated into a fantasy land, and, yeah, this was where he belonged.

The newly crowned winner Sharon Needles was performing with her girlfriend Alaska tonight, and Jason was pumped. They were crude, rude, and everything he wanted to be. Needles would be wearing her glittering crown, and, he licked his lips at the thought.

He grabbed his friend’s hand and whispered, “When they go on stage, let’s sneak into their dressing room.”

“What?! Jason, no, that’s crazy!”

“Sh, here they come. Let’s go!” Jason giggled as he slipped out from the heat of the crowd into the cool hallway, where the dark shadows covered their guilty faces. A security guard was napping on the coach, and Jason pressed a finger to his lips as he cracked open the door.

There was no one inside!

The crown glittered in the center of the room, unprotected, and it was glamorous. God, Jason’s heart skipped a beat as he lifted it up and placed it on his head. There was no doubt in his mind that he would win himself one of these in a couple years.

“Take a picture,” he cried as he spun around in his gown and crown. “This shit’s going straight on my blog.”

“Shhh! This is so wrong,” Tammy urged even as she snapped shots of him.

Jason straddled a couch cushion and struck a pose. Then he lifted up his dress to show off his panties, and Tammy had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling.

The doorknob turned, and they both froze.

“We…this…isn’t what it looks like?” Tammy sputtered.

Alaska blinked: “No? You’re not a bunch of kids posing with my boyfriend’s crown.”

“Uh, yeah, actually this is exactly what it looks like. We snuck in here to try on Needle’s crown, but I…well, I just know that I’m going to win drag race because of my soulmate tattoo, so…” Jason lamely explained.

He, slowly, took the crown off his head and placed it back onto the table.

When Alaska’s face twisted up, Jason’s heart skipped a beat. What if she said- bitch, you’re not winning drag race?

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t see anything,” the queen decided. “You two better get out of here before my 'better’ half comes and rips you a new one. She’s wasted.”

Jason nodded, tearing up, and left.

Outside the club, Tammy lamented that they had missed their opportunity to see Sharon and Alaska perform live or gotten an autograph.

Jason silently slumped on the curb and flipped through the pictures. His heart twisted as he zoomed in on the sparkling crown that had just been perched on his head. What had he been more disappointed by? That he had to give the crown back…or that Alaska hadn’t said his soulmate’s words?

He wondered how Alaska felt when after Sharon confessed on national TV that she loved Alaska even though they they didn’t have each other’s tattoos. Jesus, that had caused a lot of fucking controversy on Untucked and Reddit. 

“It’s ok, Tammy. I’ll get you their autographs when I win.”

“Win what?”

“Drag race.”

“Wow, you have a one track mind, huh? How can you even be that confident you’ll even get on the show?”

Jason rubbed his fingers along the curve of his tattoo: “I know.”

————–

Of course 'knowing’ was one thing and getting on the damn show was another. Jason had to leave his hometown and move to Atlantic City to try and make a name for himself. Well…herself.

Violet was everything that he had ever dreamed of. Where Jason was insecure, Violet was nothing but stilettos and smirks. The spotlight had always made his heart clench up, but it made her’s soar.

Of course, it wasn’t all big wigs and kisses. He had to live in a cruddy apartment and work a part time job in Sephora. Drag wasn’t exactly paying the rent. Still, every time that he painted his face, he felt a little closer to what he was destined to be. 

At least, that’s what he told himself when the power went out, and he had curl up under twenty blankets. His roommates came and went, but the roaches were always there for him. He applied every year to the show, and every year he was rejected.

Until he wasn’t.

“Are you serious? Oh my god!” Jason gasped when he got the call.

Then he was running around trying to assemble a wardrobe, and he didn’t leave himself a minute to even let it sink in. If he stopped, for even a moment, he was afraid that it would all slip through his fingers.

It wasn’t until he was on the plane to LA, that he had a second to breathe. He was watching some movie about two soul mates that kept missing each other for twenty years, and then he started sobbing. The person besides him on the plane was giving him a serious side eye, but Jason couldn’t do anything but wipe his wet cheeks.

That was when the doubt came. How could he know that his soulmate would be on the show? Maybe he would lose the first round, and then someone would say it to him in a bar afterwards and…no, Jason stopped himself, he couldn’t doubt.

“This is it,” Jason muttered to himself.

He went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and promised that he wouldn’t cry.

Jason inhaled and slowly exhaled as he repeated, “This is it.”

————–

Adore had to fuck it up for everybody. She had been the first queens to ever find her soulmate on drag race, and she spent the whole season chasing after Bianca. Everyone thought it was adorable (pun intended) but the producers were worried that it took away from the ‘quality’ of the show.

“….so now everyone has to cover up their tattoos with makeup? What!? This is the first time I’ve heard about this?”

Dave, the handler, placed a comforting hand on Violet’s shoulder as he said, “Trust me, girl. You’ll be thankful. Had Adore been focused, she wouldn’t have run around uncinched. What you saw on the show? It didn’t even start to cover what a mess she was! No, it’s better that you cover up and concentrate on the game. Isn’t that what you came here to win? The crown?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” Violet sighed as she started to spread powder over her tattoo, “I always thought that I’d meet the one here…”

Dave raised his brow.

“No, you’re right. I’m here to win a crown not 'Soulmate Bachelor.’”

She covered up her tattoo, and that wasn’t part of the plan. Still, as long as they said her words, and she said there’s. Why then…why wouldn’t they recognize each other? Right?

Everything was a blur strutting into that work room.

Violet was speaking, but she couldn’t even be sure what she was saying. Everyone here was so fierce. There was a queen in all fucking blue like some sexy alien. There was a queen who kept talking in a phony, British accent.

She could feel the camera watching her as she eyed all the naked wrists. Was this more liberating or terrifying? Violet pinched her bare skin to remind herself that she had made it. Here she was.

Violet leaned against the work desk: “So how does everyone feel coming all this way just to be filler queens?”

The squat, red-headed one snorted and asked, “Oh, and y’all really think you’re really gonna snatch that crown, gurl?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

The one in all communist-red turned to her and said, “Bitch, you’re not winning drag race.”

Violet felt her face flush at the familiar words, her arm tingling, but, before she could say anything, the blonde with a chin strap snorted and repeated the words.

Both of them had said it.

Violet opened her mouth and closed it like she was gasping for air. How long had she waited to hear those words…only to have not one but two queens say it to her?

“F-fuck off.” Violet stammered, taken off guard.

The chin strap one stared at her for a moment too long, but the queen in red spandex had already moved on to another conversation. What did it mean? If only she could see their tattoos to see which one had 'fuck off’ written there.

When they stripped, Violet found her eyes drawn to Pearl. She was definitely the cutest out of drag. Katya might have been attractive if she hadn’t been babbling about fuck knows what. If one of them was her soulmate, shouldn’t Violet know which one?

She squeezed herself next to Pearl on the car ride home, and her skin tingled where their arms were pressed together. Violet cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say. Anything.

“Uh, so we’re on the show.”

Pearl stared at her with those bored, half-hooded eyes: “Yeah. Guess we are.”

“Pretty exciting. Right?”

“Sure.”

Pearl’s eyes were cold, and she couldn’t read what emotion, if any, lay behind them. Violet squirmed in her seat, sighed, and stared out the window. 

She could see Katya’s reflection in the glass as she cracked a joke to Trixie. They laughed, and Violet felt her stomach twist. She had always imagined that she would hear them say her words, say their words right back, and -then viola!- wedding bells. Nothing was going as planned.

That night she dreamed that she was naked in the workroom, and all the queens were there, pouring scalding water on their wrists, until there was nothing but burning flesh. They held her down and forced her to join them. Peeling her skin off to reveal bare bones. Violet woke up with her heart pounding as she checked to see that she was still intact.

What the actual fuck?

———————-

Violet was on the show of her dreams with two people who could potentially be the queens of her dreams. And you know what? She was fucking miserable.

She hadn’t been big on food before, but, now, she didn’t ever finish her lunch. If she managed to swallow two, little bites, it was an accomplishment. There was an all consuming numbness, and Violet couldn’t consume anything that wasn’t drag.

Everyone around her was friendly, but, besides Fame, she didn’t feel like any of them wanted to be around her. 

Somehow on Untucked, the conversation had turned to soulmates. Ginger had brought it up. How did she always know exactly what to say to get under Violet’s skin?

“I have the most distinctive tattoo, lemme tell you. Soon as a man says what’s written on my wrist, I will snatch ‘em up. Not worried.”

Katya laughed: “Of course it is! I’m stuck with the world’s most vague words. At thirteen, I thought everyone from the schoolyard bully to the lunch lady could be my soul mate.”

“The lunch lady? Now that’s gotta mess you up,” Ginger snorted.

“Oh, trust me. Pam the Lunch Lady fucked me right up with her meatloaf love,” Katya said with a wink, and Ginger cackled.

“An’ how about'chu Pearl?”

“Vague.”

Violet jumped in: “Well, I thought mine was distinctive before I came here, but now I don’t know.”

Pearl and Katya both looked up at her, and she flushed under their inquisitive gazes. What she wouldn’t do to just to rub away the powder and show them.

Production directed them to change the topic, and Violet was happy to.

———————-

Brian squeezed up next to him in the car, and Jason eagerly leaned into his side. He may be a cold-blooded bitch, but he still wanted what everyone in this hellish life wanted- hot sex. Brian was handsome out of drag…in that weird way of his.

“So how many brain cells do you think you have left, Jason? After suffocating in that corset?”

“More than you,” he said, trying to come off as flirtatious but landing closer to pissed off.

“I get a raging erection every time you say something bitchy. So I have a raging erection at all times, and it’s really interfering with my drag.”

“Seek medical help?”

“Oh, I’m a medical mystery. Maybe if you just donkey punched me in the throat and fucked me until I couldn’t move, it might fix the problem.”

“I never know what you’re talking about,” Jason confessed. “Like are we flirting or just vaguely implying that we can’t stand each other?”

Brian shrugged: “Both? Neither? I just get the feeling that we’re going to fuck, and I want the time between now and then to be as slim as possible. Possibly slim enough to slide beneath my hotel door, get on your knees, and suck me off.”

Jason blinked and then laughed. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew that Katya’s thumb was rubbing over his bare thigh as the car bumped to the hotel. Matt turned around to glare at them, opened her mouth, and then closed it.

“What’s up Pearl-y, baby?“ Jason teased. “You look like you just sucked on a lemon.”

“Just…thinking about one of the camera men- he was giving me major daddy vibes.”

Violet leaned forwards, Katya’s hand resting on the small of her back and asked, “What if your soulmate is young?”

“Better be well hung then,” Ginger joked.

“I don’t give a shit about soulmates, alright? They’re just shit the media pushes down your throat to try and sell you products. ‘Try SOS dot com! You’ll match with your soulmate in a month or get your money back guaranteed.’ Load of bullshit I don’t wanna swallow.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Json said, taken aback, as he leaned into Brian’s side. He’d never met anyone so bitter about soulmates.

Yeah, he knew there was people, frequently shown on rom-coms, who liked to complain that soulmates were ‘chains to keep you trapped,’ but Jason had always thought of them as liberating. What was his deal?

Instead, Jason leaned forward into Brian’s side, gripped her leg, and whispered: “What are your words?”

“Fuck off.”

“Is that really them? The words? Or are you joking?”

Brian only winked.

Jason let his hand wander down, so it was resting over Brian’s denim crotch. As Jason gave him a light squeeze, he felt it twitch under her grip. Someone coughed loudly, and Jason reluctantly pulled away.

Late that night, Jason touched himself to the thought of getting down on his knees and Brian’s hands pulling roughly at his hair. His cock hardened as he twisted his wrist. What would Brian’s fingers feel like inside him? Would they shake from withdrawal? Or would he be steady and sure?  

Jason rolled over as replayed the scene in the car when the the engine had rumbled between his thighs. He replayed the way Brian had sharply inhaled and looked at him so tenderly. Jason speed up his pace, breathe coming in shallow pants.

Then Brian’s face transformed to Matt’s, and Jason came all over himself with a pathetic groan.

“What’s wrong with me?” Jason muttered as he tossed and turned.

In his dreams, he was buried in the workroom under the concrete, and Brian was trying to dig him out. Then Matt stepped on Brian’s hands until they fell off and scampered away. Then more and more hands poured out, and buried Jason.

He woke up gasping for breathe, and, as always, wondering what the fuck?

———————-

“Katya, let’s start with you,” Ginger began as she adjusted her Hello Kitty cape. “What’s been your most challenging moment?”

“I think it happened last night. I think that was the worst…I mean I’ve had…there’s been like a lot of moments where I’ve felt really, really bad. But last night I think I had a panic attack.”

Violet she felt her heart twist up: “Oh no.”

“And it was one of those things where like-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ginger softly interrupted. Violet, for the first time, felt grateful for the southern queen.

“This competition has been hard in a way that I didn’t expect.”

Violet had been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t noticed that bags under Katya’s eyes. She felt like such shit. Violet scooted forward on the couch and wrapped her arms around Katya.

“I felt like a baby saying it-”

Violet chuckled: “Well, yeah.”

Katya pushed her back.

“You know what you can suck? My whole dick.”

“Can I please? God, I’m so, like, finally!” Violet laughed, stomach twisting, and, even from behind her pink headpiece, she could see that Pearl was smiling along with the rest of them. How was it that at the most stressful peak of the show, Violet finally felt like she was breaking through to them?

Ginger turned to Violet: “Okay, so what has been your most difficult moment?”

“My most difficult moment was really feeling like I had no one in the world to talk to. Like I literally felt like everyone hated me. I had a mini breakdown in the beginning because everyone thought I was this rotted cunt. And I mean..I kinda am that.”

Katya, stretching her legs out, interjected: “You’re just a regular cunt. Not a rotted one.”

“I’ll say when I first came in, for the most part, it was all about competition. And I remember being like, okay bitch, game face. Like, you’ve got to go in here and be confident and strong and show strength and…maybe that wasn’t the best concept?”

Katya leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder: “No, that has been your greatest asset, are you kidding me? That is the thing I admire about you so much. Bitch. You. Are. In it. To win. It.”

It meant everything, after all of this doubt, to hear Katya say that to her. She wanted to bury her face into Katya’s shoulder again, but, with the cameras all around them, she choose to stay seated. She wanted to tell Katya that she was amazing and super talented, but the conversation had moved in.

She noticed that Pearl was eyeing her as she got up a couple minutes later to go talk to Katya.

“Look at me,” Violet took Katya’s hands and squeezed them in her own. “This is me being real.”

Katya cackled, and they had to take a second to catch their breathe. What was it about Katya that made Violet feel so giddy and real? She almost tripped over her heel, and Katya caught her wrist, right where her words were concealed.

“Look what happens when you try to get real, bitch!”

Violet giggled and went to adjust her makeup, but, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Katya practicing the lip synch. Her heart sank as she realized that she might be running out of time. Why couldn’t she just tell Katya the truth? Tell her that she thought she was her soulmate?

Then Katya was slamming down onto stage in a split, lip syncing for her life. Her and Kennedy were neck in neck. Violet knew she shouldn’t be taken sides, but she knew who she wanted to stay.

Behind her back, Violet crossed her fingers.

“Katya, you may doubt yourself sometimes, but I have no doubt that you are a star. And a hammer. And a sickle…sashay away.”

Violet clapped even though all she wanted to do was cry.

Katya had left Violet a small note tucked away into one of her heels. ‘Fuck off.’ it read with little hearts, and Violet pressed it to her chest. She didn’t let the cameras see it, slipping it away into her bag. She kept her face composed and then cried in her hotel room.

If Violet had found her soulmate, why did she feel like something was missing?

———————-

It was the final four Untucked, just a couple days since Katya had left, and you could cut the tension with a knife. Violet sipped her cocktail, silent, as everyone eyed each other up.

“What are you thinking about?” Pearl asked, shifting closer to her. Violet stared down at her bare wrist and sighed.

“I’m just trying to process everything. I just need to…replay everything.”

“What didn’t help,” Pearl added. “Was how the two of you had each other’s back but just threw Violet and I under the bus.”

Then Ginger and Kennedy were going back and forth, like a game of verbal tennis, defending themselves. They needed to both calm down before she lost her temper.

“I do drag for me, and that’s it,” Violet snapped, cutting off their rant about the essential nature of Pageants.

Pearl didn’t fire back at all, eyes downcast, and arms tucked between her legs. She had her infamous lemon face on, and Violet wanted to hug her. 

“I don’t know…everyone thinks that I’m on drugs, and I have no personality. So I’m probably…”

Going home, Violet filled in the blanks.

Then everyone was back at it again, and Violet wanted it to be over. Ginger snapped that they were going to ‘get a smoke and fuck off,’ and Pearl visibly flinched.

As Violet got up to go the bathroom, Pearl followed her.

“Thanks for defending us,” the blonde said, and Violet leaned in to give her a soft kiss on the cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup as she leaned against the bathroom door.

“It’s…they’re just letting their competitive spirits get the best of them. This will all be over by the time the reunion rolls around.”

Pearl buried her face into Violet’s arms: “I’m sorry for being so distant.”

“Sh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

“But I can’t, like, handle it when people yell at me or get confrontational because…my stupid soulmates words are ‘fuck off.’ And every time someone screams it at me, I feel myself hurting so fucking bad.”

Violet was sure that she was the first one to see Pearl like this, and she hugged her tighter in her arms. 

“My words are 'Bitch, you’re not going to win drag race,’ but did I take that as a sign I was going to lose? No…I decided that it mean’t I was going to win. The words are there, in black and white, but you’re the one who gives them color.”

Pearl hiccuped and then took a step back, “Wait…I- I said that to you, and then you- but- but didn’t Katya say them first?”

“We need everyone back on the main stage!”

Violet nodded as they stared at one another, and she saw Pearl’s eyes flash with a grim understanding. She had never read of a case of someone with two soulmates, not in all her years and years of internet browsing. Only one of the could be the her soulmate.  

“I want it to be me,” Pearl whispered, cupping her face, and sadly kissed Violet’s cheek. 

This really had turned into soulmate bachelor. 

———————-

Jason flew back home and went into hibernation for a couple days. He kept the blinds closed and the covers pulled up high over his head. Jason allowed himself a couple days of misery and then he took a deep breathe and turned on the scorching, cold shower. As he stepped right into the needle-like spray, Jason decided only the the truth would heal this. 

“Hi, mom, how are you? Yeah, long time no call. I was doing this television thing- yeah, the one I’ve been talking about for years. Uh huh, 'Rapal’s Dank Raze.’ So, this may sound like an obvious question, but how did you know that dad was the one?”

“Because we said each other’s words?”

He sighed and buried his face in the palm of his hand: “Yeah, mom, but what if there was…a duplicate? A mistake?”

“No such thing, sweetie-”

“But what if dad said 'hey, sunshine’ and then little Timmy said the same thing after him? How would you know who it was him?”

“It would still be him. The words are just a sign, but you can feel your soulmate deeper than just that. Jason, did something happen? Did Rapal say your words?”

“Uh, no mom. Nothing happened.”

Except everything.

“Well, if something like that did happen I would just go with the more handsome one-”

“Bye, Mom!”

“Wait, no, I think your cousin Suzie had something like this happen to her.”

“I don’t know cousin Suzie.”

“Because she moved to Utah to get polygamy married. It’s true, you know. There are cases of people having more than one soulmate. In the good old days, you’d have the two fight to the death but, you know, some traditions die hard. Well, good luck sweetie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jason sighed as he rubbed his head. 

———————-

In the end it wasn’t as dramatic as a fight to the death or eloping in Utah. Instead, they all gathered at a Cafe and had peppermint tea with flower shaped sugar cookies. It was all so sweet Jason thought he might be getting a toothache. Outside of the cooker pressure of the race, it was easy to lean back in the LA sun and just breathe. 

“So,” Matt said as he licked the cookies crumbs from his thumb. 

“So,” Jason said and looked between the both. 

“So what? Are we ordering more cookies or?” Brian said and then burped so loudly the little old lady next to them dropped her tea cup. That sent them all into red faced hysterics as they tried to hide their guilty faces behind their own cups. 

Somehow, they made it into an Uber without harming any more elderly people. Jason squeezed onto Brian’s lap, and Matt threw his shoulder over Brian. They were all tangled up, and Jason didn’t want to pull them apart. It felt like they had been pulling away for so long, and now they could fall together, the perfect puzzle pieces. 

Jason could still taste the sweetness on Brian’s tongue as he tugged him by the scruff of his neck into a kiss. He was hard in his slacks as Matt slid his hand between his legs and squeezed. Jason groaned, wondering which name he should moan when he realized- both. It’s both of them. 

“Having trouble?” Matt teased.

Brian bit the edge of his lip: “Let’s make that double.”

“That’s the trouble with soulmates,” Jason gasped. “You never know when you’re going to get two.”

Even though it was still two weeks until the crowning, Jason felt like he’d already won. With his soulmate’s arms around him he was king of the world, with or without a crown.

[kentkennyradcliffe]

Sexuality

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Most of them know about my past, others probably have figured out some things, and my new friends only know what I have told them. regardless of their knowledge about me, I want all my friends, peers, and even people I do not know, to read this. they never will.

For the past 2 years I was addicted to cocaine. I started in secret my junior year after summer vacation, so around august 2007. it was not a habit then, I was under control, and it was incredibly fun. my nose still burns for a taste.

I was crazier and louder and more social and more like a party boy when he drinks the right amount of beer before he has one to many and becomes the drunken idiot. I was the fun guy finally. I was not stoned and dumb, I was becoming fun. and cocaine made me fun. I was also acting crazy like id do things I never thought I would do. like once I decided to grab the ass of a boy in front of me and then the kids at the table, I was sitting at dared me to, so I did. I never had that kind of confidence and guts before. so, I figured I needed the coke to give me that confidence. little did I know it was going to soon take all that away from me.

the first time I freaked out was with my new friends at the time, they were some boys I met during lunch through jimmy Rodgers. Logan goldsmith, cory sync, and ed case were always sitting with us at the table. I knew kami so I sat down and introduced myself. I have no idea how I acted back then, but for some reason, they liked me. I thought they would find out about my little experimental am I gay or straight thing. but these boys did not seem to care. they thought I was cool, regardless of my sexuality.

ok, I might have to explain the "am I gay or am I straight" thing. in my sophomore year, I was a little curious about the whole gay thing. I never told anyone, but I did not have to, because a lot of people already assumed, I was gay or at least bi. but no one believed in bisexuality back then because at south Oldham you were either gay or straight. I was neither. I always knew I was curious about both genders, but I never actually admitted to it. I let my friends do all the talking and that ended up in a lot of rumors and the rumors were never stopped by me because I just did not give a fuck. I did not realize how much the school would care about one simple guy like me having an interest in girls and guys.

I guess it was because I was so good looking, they were afraid that if I were straight, I would get all the girls. lol. I do not know.

so, the whole am I gay or straight phase turned into a " Kenny’s gay" rumor and then everyone in school would look at me and see a fag. that is how bad it got. so, I knew I could not convince anyone that I was not actually gay... so I let them believe it. I mean, why try to stop a fire when you can just let it burn and die out in its own time. I figured the rumors would stop and no one would care the next week. I was wrong. it seemed the less gay I acted; the more people wanted to pester me about it. that is when I turned to pot. I needed an escape from the stupid immature conservative mass at south Oldham. it was also when I denied god because I was so mad at the religious persecution I was under. all the bible thumpers were trying to get me to admit stuffing that I never did. I was accused of having sex with boys and raping them and going to gay clubs and having sex with older men and the rumors were just incredible. I let pot take it all away. all the stress.

I got stoned once before going into school and Shaquille starts talking to me. I had no interest in him at all, because I was not gay, but because I was stoned, I did not really care. so, I talked with him and he tells me he wants my number. I do not remember giving it to him, but I guess I did. next thing I know he is calling me and asking me if I like him. I was a mean kid, and I lied and said sure why not. this eventually led me down a path of horrible horrible consequences. everyone at south Oldham high knew about the conversation the next day. I was dumbfounded. I knew then that no matter what I said or did, I would be known as the school’s gay kid. I did not try to shake the label off though. I let it hang over me for the rest of that year. I was not proud of it and I did not like the fact that everyone knew something about me that should have been kept secret. I knew that it was a normal thing for a boy to be curious about another boy, because I was familiar with boys in my school and elsewhere that had the same thoughts. it was something that should have remained unknown, something that is figured out in the locker room after all the other boys have left and that one boy stays after and says hey I noticed you looking at my dick, you want to suck it. yeah that was the humiliation I was getting. I was forced to do things I never would have normally done.

now that you know about the real story about my sexuality...

-----------------------------------------------------------