#girl who was jealous and bitter at first and then realized she was lesbian for her all along? unique experience i fear

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ok idk if anyones talked about this but i keep wondering just how true this statement is

because we know that girls in saiki k CAN be like that but i dont remember it ever showing with teruhashi and we have scenes like this

where other girls are just as enamored with teruhashi as the guys are (the right panel could theoretically be just like the girls above but i doubt it considering the girl in the left one)

so like how much truth is there to that? ARE they like that with teruhashi or does she just assume they are? does she have good reason to assume they are?

[what-if-rpg]

↪ Have you heard about SANTANA LOPEZ? SHE is 29 and hails from LIMA HEIGHTS, OHIO. Looks exactly like DIANNE GUERRERO, and is TAKEN.

“Me and my head high, and my tears dry, get on without my guy.”

↪ IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Santana Maria Lopez DATE OF BIRTH: November 17 SEXUALITY & GENDER: Lesbian & Cis-Female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married to Brittany S. Pierce POSITIVE & NEGATIVE TRAITS: Charming, Honest & Loyal. Blunt, Jealous & Bitter. OCCUPATION: Rachel Berry’s Agent CITY: New York, NYC

↪ HEADCANONS:

Santana and Quinn have quite some history as frenemies, she used to hate Rachel and Quinn's tense relationship as Santana herself was still in the closet. She once confided about that with Rachel and after that, their friendship blossomed.

Although Santana is a lesbian, she has a history of sleeping around with men, one of these men was Finn Hudson, who she slept only once with. Mostly because she wanted to spite Quinn thinking she had feelings for her then boyfriend. But once Santana realized that she and Quinn had more in common than cheerleading, she turned in a sweeter friend.

Britt was Santana's first love, first kiss with a girl, first-time sex with a girl - she owns a lot to Britt, but seeing Britt wants to start a family, and Santana wants to focus on her career, or more importantly Rachel Berry's career - she finds herself thinking the lovebirds might not be meant to be after all.

Santana recently got a big tattoo, of angel wings, on her back. It's to celebrate being as free as a bird and she holds no shame of her tattooed back, often wearing open-back dresses to flaunt her tattoo off.

↪ IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS:

MARIBEL & MR. LOPEZ (Parents): Santana broke contact with her parents after coming out. She sends her mom letters on Mother's day however since her mother isn't as against it as her father is. MRS. LOPEZ (Aunt): Her aunt sent her money when she struggled to get by as she was kicked out of her family's home. BRITTANY S. PIERCE (Wife): They are having a break at the moment to have things cooling down about the children's debate. LAYA, LEAH & LUCA PIERCE-LOPEZ (Children): Up to RPer RACHEL BERRY, KURT HUMMEL & QUINN FABRAY (Best Friends): Quinn and Rachel Berry, but also Kurt Hummel is family to her. They are her support system. And in return she is theirs.

[bumbleklee]

Honey (Kaeya x M!Reader)

CONTENT WARNING: Internalized homophobia, cursing, alcohol/drunkenness, fist fight scene and mentions of blood

Before Reading: this one-shot uses the f-slur a few times but please keep in mind that I am a lesbian who has been called this word many times in the past so I am reclaiming it through writing. like in the content warning, this story is basically all internalized homophobia so if this subject makes you wary - please don’t read! story is under the cut for sensitive topics

You remember your first love dearly. It was Jean and you were thirteen. She was your best friend and you loved her beauty more than anything in the world. She was kind to you even when you were cruel to her to impress your male friends. It was hard not to fall in love with how she loved you.

When you were sixteen, you dated Jean. Your first kiss was with her, you found comfort in her. You even imagined spending the rest of your life in Mondstadt married to her. Unknowing to you at the time, Jean became your shield. You paraded her around to shut down rumors and broke her heart to save yours. You aren’t expecting her sigh of relief when you begin to question if she was the one for you.

You break up with Jean when you’re eighteen. She was tired and you knew she deserves someone better. You never stopped loving Jean.

When the rumors swirl again, you try to play them off. People wondered why you and Jean had broken up - were you hurting her? Was she cheating on you? Were you cheating on her?

Of course not.

Were you gay?

You didn’t understand what it meant to be gay, so you couldn’t be gay. 

Kaeya is open about love. He says he loves anyone - boys and girls and every other gender. He was proud yet you still didn’t understand. How could someone love so many different people when there were rules? You want to help Kaeya realize this - help him realize he’s only supposed to love girls.

For the next year, you examine Kaeya closely. You accompany him to bars after work and watch him leave with a plethora of different people. One night, he finds solace at the table with a male knight whose name you couldn’t remember. You can only watch their lips press against each other for a moment before retreating to the bar.

“How insensitive,” You mumble, catching the eye of Diluc. He finishes drying a glass and fills it with wine, pressing it towards you gently.

“Are you jealous?”

Your eyes snap up and you let out a breath of shaky laughter. “Jealous? Your brother is sick in the head - he needs to convert before it’s too late.”

Diluc is tight-lipped. To him, you look sick in the head. His relationship with his brother may not have been the best but never would Diluc resort to such hateful thoughts. Kaeya was, well, Kaeya. You stare at him, waiting for him to say something - say anything.

“I can’t believe you’re defending that faggot.”

With a quick movement, Diluc pulls your drink away and it’s hastily thrown in your face. The alcohol drips into your eyes and you seethe.

“Leave. And don’t come back.”

“Gladly.”

He just didn’t understand.

You expect Kaeya to avoid you like the plague after your outburst at the tavern yet the next morning he’s glued to your side at work. His demeanor is off but when you look at him, he smiles.

Anytime you try to bring up your concerns about Kaeya’s sexuality to him, he simply laughs and tells you how funny you are. You get angrier each day and start to spend free time in the church praying to Lord Barbatos to please help Kaeya.

You speak to your parents about your actions and they’re proud of you. Especially your old man. He’s withering away by the day but is still conscious enough to tell you your hair is getting too long - too femine - and you need to cut it. You appreciate him.

Jean is still your rock. She knows more about you than you do.

When you realize how pretty Kaeya looks during the Windblume Festival, Jean is the first person you tell. You’re panicking, scared you’ve come down with a fever and are having hallucinations. Jean just rubs your back and tells you you’re fine.

“You like him,” She says.

“No, I don’t. I can’t.”

Her smile falters and she makes you look at her in the eyes, “It’s okay to like him.”

You pull away from Jean, angry you might say something you don’t mean. You stay far away from Kaeya and Jean for the rest of the festival, denying the frazzled thoughts that are swarming your mind. When Amber confesses to you at the end of the festival, you pull her into a storage closet and kiss her until you can see clearly again.

“We’re in love,” You tell Jean days later. She looks up from the paperwork on her desk.

“It’s been a week.”

She thinks you’re joking. “We’re soulmates,” You continue and Jean’s soft laughter stops. You wait for her to deny it, to protest against your newfound relationship, but she never does. She just sighs and waves you back to Amber.

On a particularly bad day at work, Jean surprises the knights with food and drinks from The Cat’s Tail. You drink so much that you forget you’re there with Amber and by the time you remember, she’s stormed off to find someone else. Instead, you stay near Kaeya as the taller man tells you a story about an adventure.

It’s fine until his arm loops around your waist and your senses overwhelm you again. You shove Kaeya away and his back hits the bar counter. The tavern grows quiet and Kaeya quickly makes a loud joke about how horrible you were at dancing. You pretend you don’t see the hurt in his eye.

All you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

You retreat to the table Jean is sitting at and Kaeya pulls Albedo towards him. The chief alchemist, for once, looks excited. Your chest tightens and you stare at the pair with a heavy gaze.

“Albedo is a fag, too,” You start causing Jean to sigh sadly, “He’s a fag and he’s all over my -”

You stop abruptly. What were you going to say? The word that lingers in your mind makes you feel sick to your stomach. As soon as you got home, you were going to repent for even thinking of it. Jean touches your arm lightly, “Y/N…”

You pull your arm away, “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Three months later, Kaeya kisses you.

It’s short and sweet and you’re rambling about how you think him and Jean would make a cute couple. His lips are soft and taste like honey and you feel like you’re flying.

Soaring through the wind until suddenly you’re not.

You hit the ground.

It hurts.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, trying to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. This was horrible - it was all wrong.

“Please,” Kaeya begs, “Shut up.”

You run from him. Your feet take you far into the Whispering Woods and your hands press on your temple with so much force you think you’re going to break. Everything you knew, everything you believed in, was flying out the door and you couldn’t grab onto it. You’re sick - you have to be. There’s no other reason why the only want in your head is Kaeya’s lips on yours again.

You scratch at your skin, curl into yourself and scream.

Kaeya avoids you and you avoid him. You thought this would solve everything - if Kaeya wasn’t around you, he wouldn’t be able to taint you. Yet anytime you looked into his office and saw emptiness, your tongue ached for that sweet taste of honey.

You miss him so much and one day, your emotions get the better of you. You wait for him to stumble out of the tavern and when he does, you grab him. Your mouth gaps like a fish out of water, trying to formulate the right words to say to him.

“What?” His voice is cold, venomous, “Going to call me a faggot again and run away?”

Your heart breaks, “We can get through this together -”

Kaeya snaps his arms away, “You still don’t fucking get it! There’s nothing to get through, Y/N! I’m who I am and I am so fucking tired of waiting around for you to realize who you are!”

“I hate you.”

The words tumble from your lips and Kaeya’s fist collides with your cheek. You try to fight back but Kaeya is stronger. He shoves you down, straddling your hips and clenching your shirt in his hair. His eye is filled with bitter tears and he lands another punch to your face.

“I’m sorry that you were taught to hate love,” Kaeya continues, “I’m sorry you can’t accept that I love myself and you hate yourself!”

Your hands claw at Kaeya’s face, managing to tear off his eyepatch and reveal his blinded eye. Kaeya lifts you by the hold on your shirt only to slam you back down into the concrete. By now, there’s a small crowd of drunken knights surrounding you both.

“You’re mental!” You cry out, “You need serious help or you’re going to go to Hell! I don’t want you to go to Hell, Kaeya!”

Kaeya gives you one last punch, this one to your nose, and gets off your. You feel warm blood trickle past your lips and your head is pounding. He looks at you with an expression that makes you start crying yourself.

“I’ll go to Hell if it’ll save me from you.”

It takes you twenty minutes to get up and finally tread home. Your parents are already asleep and when you look in the mirror, you see the dried blood covering your lips and chin. Your nose hurt to the touch.

You fall into a deeper hole than you ever thought you would. You stay in bed for three days straight, blaming it on a cold, until Jean shows up at your door to drag you back into the sunlight.

You don’t feel worthy to be seen by the sun.

She takes you on a walk through Spingvale and you sit in front of the lake. You feel embarrassed, your hands folding on top of each other.

“We have to talk about what happened.”

You don’t look at Jean. Your shoulders tremble and you lean in closer to your knees. “I’ve been trying to push...it...away for so long,” You start. Your voice is a hushed whisper and you hardly recognize it. “But it’s like there’s this flashing light that keeps reminding me.”

“It’s because it’s who you are.”

“That’s the problem.”

Jean is quiet for a moment before reaching over and placing her hand over yours.

“My parents told me growing up that love was between a man and a woman and that Lord Barbatos would punish the souls who didn’t obey that. I don’t...don’t want to get punished, Jean.”

Your hands are shaking. Jean rubs your thumb, “Lord Barbatos would never punish anyone for being in love.” You feel shameful again. “But you don’t love Amber.”

You didn’t. You truly didn’t. In fact, you had forgotten about her during your depressive episode. You felt horrible - you had hurt so many people just to hide from the truth. Tears well in your eyes again and you don’t know what to do.

“Listen,” Jean says comfortingly. You finally look up to meet her tired eyes - the same eyes from back when you were eighteen. “I’ll talk to Amber for you. I think you owe someone else a visit.”

Without another word, you took off. You hoped Kaeya was around and not on a commission because if you didn’t say what you needed to say now, you never would. Thankfully, you find him sitting at his desk at the Headquarters. You stand in the doorway and clutch at your sleeves, your heart pounding.

In that moment you realized you couldn’t do it alone - you couldn’t be yourself alone.

Without someone guiding you through this, you would fall into old habits and never progress. If you continued to shove your truth far, far away then you would lose Kaeya forever.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Kaeya finally asks. His voice is much kinder than days prior.

“I love you.”

Time freezes and you stare at each other. The words linger in the air but you know there’s no taking them back. Kaeya was expecting another half-assed biblical chant about how you could change him. He was never expecting a love confession.

You realize you’ve been moving closer to Kaeya when his hand reaches out to touch your cheek. He rises from his desk and leans in, pressing his lips to yours ever so slightly. As soon as you taste honey, you feel sparks fly.

You lived in a world of hatred and darkness, waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel to arise. And Kaeya was that light.

[dreamties]

Amanda Young W/ a Fem!S/O Who’s An Apprentice

A/n- Another wonderful anon wanted Amanda with a s/o that was also an apprentice for John! I’ve gotta say, this was such an intriguing concept to work with- so thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write it. 🥺

Also! requests are open, rules and characters are pinned at the top of my blog. :)

T/W- Mentions of s*lf-h*rm (I can add more/other warnings if needed! )

it takes a while for her to warm up to you, and your relationship is a little rocky at first.

since you both are apprentices for Jigsaw- or John Kramer- she see’s you mostly as competition. she gets pretty jealous of you.

she started a little bit before you, so her relationship with John has already been built up a bit. you arrive to help out shortly after your first test.

she’s seeking attention and love and appreciation from John, through all the work that she does for him.

she gets so upset when he praises you for something, she feels so unworthy- but at the end of the day, it fuels her to want to be better and work harder.

she’s into girls, so lesbian or bi, but all of her experiences so far have been with men. a part of her did really like you at first, but she wasn’t able to identify those feelings right away. 

one of the first times your alone with her, cleaning up after a game- she opens up about her bitter feelings towards you. your the first time she has acknowledged her female crushes before(still hasn’t told you yet- but she’s getting there!!)

“I don’t want to replace you,” you sigh, “You’re so smart and capable on your own, Amanda. I know you could do it by yourself. But- I want to do it together.”

she’s just so in awe over you

you start helping each other out more, giving little tips and discussing ideas. You work on new traps and repair old ones with her. 

through this time together, she eventually opens up about some of her past- since she feels like she can trust you. You’ve shown her this kindness and acceptance that not even Kramer had given to her- or could give to her.

she tells you about her previous experiences with guys(she hasn’t been with very nice people- it makes you feel vary sad hearing about this), and says sometimes when she’s too stressed and hopeless that she cuts.

you’re still used to whatever your relationship is with her, so you offer your arms out, asking if it would be alright to hold her. she stares sort of wide-eyed, seemingly caught off guard. she gently nods, feeling hesitant to lean into your touch at first. it’s all very new to both of you.

you give her a few words of affirmation, just to let her know that ‘hey, sorry you feel like this- I’m here to listen though.’

 When it comes to Amanda’s first time being in charge of the entire set-up without Kramer’s help- Amanda asks you to do it with her. not that she wasn’t ready, but she liked having you there...sort of her partner in crime.

you act as a moral guide for her- or, as much as you can considering your job.

In the movies, Amanda makes a lot of choices that make it impossible for anyone to survive the game. You help to persuade her otherwise. like in the first game she orchestrates, she considered welding the door shut- but you softly argued that the whole point of all this was to give these people a second chance. like Kramer had done for you and Amanda.

you end up spending a lot of late nights with her. with getting the people for the games, and designing & fixing, and lots and lots of planning.

You’d been working together in Kramer’s workshop, finally realizing the two of you should head home. You go with Amanda, wanting to make sure she got home in one piece, but felt all too tired when you arrived. she notices, inviting you in.

it’s the first time you’ve been in her apartment. both nestled into the couch.

you bare your soul to her like she did all that time ago, and her response mimics yours. you lay your head against her chest, allowing her to cautiously wrap you in a hug.

it must of have been some sort of heat of the moment, type of thing. but the warmth that you could feel as your otherwise cold bodies meld together, made you smile ear to ear, whispering, “I love you.”

she’s so quiet, and all you can hear is her soft breathing- so at least you knew she was still there.

she eventually replies, “I love you, too.”

you fall sleep in her arms. the next time you’re alone together, she says that you’re her first girlfriend- you remind her it’s okay to be nervous, but that she doesn’t have to be. she’s in good hands.

a few other fun things:

giving her good luck kisses before a night of hard work(setting up games/traps, and all that...)

cleaning your masks afterwards. occasionally swapping masks- it’s kind of like when partners share clothes, except way more personal. you would never let anyone even touch your mask before, so it’s always a surprise to Kramer when he’s you dawned in a pig mask and Amanda in a (insert favorite farm animal) mask.

 It makes you giggle in delight seeing your gf in your mask. every. single. time.

[the-trashrat]

Genderbend losers club + hcs

Richie → Regine

- her government name is Regine but everybody just calls her Reggie instead of Richie.

-she doesn't like Edna when they first meet, and for a while after that. She says it's bc Edna's a pouty spoiled brat but at the same time she thinks it's cute. She's a hot mess.

-people get real suprised by how such a young girl talks so dirty.

-huuuuge feminist; it's the 80's after all. And when she gets older and in college, she's a radio host on campus and most of the guys don't like her for discussing their sexist behavior.

-in highschool when the losers start getting hobbies, she joins cheerleading and cheers on Edna. She actually becomes one of the best cheerleaders on the squad because of her rambunctious personality.

-a lot of ppl say that eddie is curvy and Richie is built like a whole 2 by 4 as females but I think Reggie has more boobage and butt than Edna.

-when they return back to derry this bitch dresses like Mrs. Frizzle. Like those crazy ass outfits she used to wear

-Either that or Hawaiian button ups and Jean shorts.

-likes to show titty in her Hawaiian outfits 😎

Eddie → Edna

-she is a spoiled, loud, bossy girl but she doesn't like to hear that she is :(

-reggie calls her Ed and everyone catches on bc they collectively don't like the name Edna

-she's literally Jackie Burkhart.

-basically a doll for Sonia's enjoyment.

-after a year of hanging out with Reggie and the losers she feels a little more free and decides she doesn't wanna be Sonia's perfect little girl anymore. So she chops her hair off to neck length freshman year.

-sonia and her obviously begin bumping heads bc of it.

-she joins Track freshman year and LOVES it. She continues until college. And in college she starts to plays volleyball.

- she chops her hair shorter that it basically becomes a long wavy pixie cut

-everyone at school ends up calling Edna 'boy girl' bc she had short hair. And sort of turning into a stud.

-she's not spoiled anymore in highschool and college and after that, but she is def still bossy

-when they return back to derry, the only clothes she wears are button ups, t-shirts, slacks, and jeans. She doesn't like dresses or skirts anymore.

Beverly → Benny

-everyone eventually gets a crush on Benny, besides Edna (bc she's a lesbian even tho she tries to have on one him)

-all the girls think he's cute but promiscuous bc he only hangs out with like 6 other girls.

-doesn't believe in hitting girls but Henrietta Bowers makes an exception.

-idk why but I feel like Benny and Edna would fake date for a while?? Bc they're kinda the perfect couple in Derry.

-him and Bella are the cutest tho 🤷🏽‍♀️

-y'all,, Benny gets hot when they come back to derry; like it's not fair.

-he can't get over how hotter Bella got either when they come back to derry.

Stanley → Staniel

-EVERYONE is jealous of her hair.

-the most functional loser still.

-wears skirts ALL the time, even when they reunite in derry (oh yeah genderbend means fix it AU too)

-had a crush on Billie and Michelle for the longest time until she met Patrick who she's now happily married to.

-first kiss is with Regina tho

-she also didn't like Edna all that much bc she used to be Regina's best friend and Ed took her place. And bc she was a loud spoiled brat

Mike → Michelle

-she has a top like Tracy Camilla John's in 'she gotta have it'

-also a huge feminist like Regina, so they talk about that a lot.

-she's apart of the choir and her vocals are like Amber Riley's; she's really good. And the losers go to watch.

-definitely has a crush on Billie and still does. They end up dating during their reunion and go to Florida together.

-she never wore skirts but she wore dresses to church and choir. Besides that, she usually wore baggy jeans.

-Edna gets a crush on Michelle bc she's so pretty, intelligent, and strong. She was everything Edna wished she could be.

-she's really good at basketball and golf but never tries out.

Bill → Billie

-Everyone also has a crush on Billie like they do with Benny.

-Georgia (Georgie) is dead still and she's still a complete mess abt it.

-she once confessed to Edna that she's the little sister she got to have after Georgia. So she's really protective of Edna.

-after crushing on Benny for a year or so, and got over it, she realized Michelle was pretty perfect and gets a tiny crush on her.

-oops when they go back to derry she has a huge fucking crush on her now.

-they date and like I say go to Florida after she leaves his husband Aubrey.

Ben → Bella

-she's a really smart girl; all the girls are jealous of her bc she has Benny on her arm and amazing grades. Of course, they pick on her bc of her weight.

-even Pennywise, a fucking clown, picks on her every insecurities and calls her fat.

-but of course there was always Benny that made her feel like she was still beautiful.

-since girls aren't allowed to play football she does volleyball and basketball. It helps her eventually lose some weight in highschool.

-she also starts jogging with Edna in the morning before school. She's amazed how much this little girl can talk while jogging.

-she loses more weight in her adult life and comes back stunning. She was already beautiful but she was glowing.

-she was expecting to become valedictorian but Regina took the title. She was a little bitter but came to terms with it.

-also, her and Benny end up marrying like a year after the reunion.

These r stupid as hell i'm sorry 😭

[spaced-out-julissx]

this post is kinda long ngl

Last night, I came out to my friend as bisexual through text message. God I still can’t believe I did it. She’s bisexual too, so the reason I came out to her first was not only because I trusted her, but she might be one of the few that understands me. I would love to include screenshots of the text messages, but I’m typing this through a laptop and I don’t want pictures here because my whole family can login and can see them. I know I can delete them but I don’t want to risk it. Let me tell you what happened just in case you’re looking for a coming out story to read or help you out.

Me and her were just making small talk and talking about our new hobbies that we formed during quarantine and the sort. I was actually doing homework while texting her. And then, all of a sudden, I wanted her to know. Like, I’ve always known I was going to tell her first, but I thought it was going to be in person. But last night, as I was texting her, I just really wanted her to know. It was so powerful, this feeling, of just wanting to go through the screen and come out at her end and just scream it out. I was kind of scared of this all-of-a-sudden feeling, because it doesn’t come with bravery, but rather recklessness and this feeling could either be the best or worst thing for someone in the closet.

Nevertheless, I decided to act on it. And I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I felt these exact feelings: my leg, which was already shaking, began shaking even more violently. I could feel goosebumps all over my arms. There was a lump in my throat, and thank goodness we were texting rather than talking or else I would have never spit out the words. My stomach felt weird, like somebody was poking me all over, but through the inside. 

I texted her, asking if I could talk to her about something. She said yes, and then my phone stopped working for a whole hour. Great timing. For that whole hour, I was reflecting if I should or shouldn’t. But this feeling was so strong, and I had no doubt in my mind that it was going to be tonight that I would tell her. My phone started working again, and then I told her that it broke down and whatever. Then she asked me what it was that I wanted to tell her. 

So I typed up the words “I’m bi”. I typed them. I didn’t send them. There I was, staring at the blue “send” button, thinking how big that button all of a sudden became. Two words. Two small words. One of them I didn’t even type fully. But they were so powerful, because the second I sent them I knew there was no going back. You can’t just lock yourself back inside the closet. 

I was feeling so overwhelmed, so I went into the notes app and typed up a reason as to why I was telling her. I typed up exactly these words,

“and you're the only one that knows idk i just wanted to tell someone and i really don't want to tell my family they're kinda homophobic hehe”

I was going to send “I’m bi” first and then the message above. So I went back to the text messages. I took a couple of breaths.

It was so much, I literally squeezed my eyes shut and my thumb hit the send button. I felt this huge weight on my shoulders. I felt so many feelings right at that moment, it was crazy. Goosebumps were positively all over my body. Immediately I pasted the message from the notes. That was probably a good idea, my whole copy and paste thing. There was no way my shaking fingers were going to type a whole sentence after sending that.

I stared at my phone, waiting. There was no way I could just look away from the phone. My eyes were glued. I wasn’t even blinking. 

A whole minute passed. A WHOLE MINUTE. I kid you not a whole 60 seconds passed. Those 60 seconds were longer than microwave seconds. I was waiting and waiting. Surely she wouldn’t be mad at me, right? She’s bi. It would be hypocritical, and if I knew she would do something like that, I wouldn’t have told her. But do I honestly know her fully? I mean, I only met her a couple of months ago, but I feel like I’ve known her forever. She’s just so easy to talk to about literally anything! Was this an exception? And just like that, another minute passed. 

That’s it. I can try to go back inside the closet as best as I could. I could tell her April Fools or something like that, and if she says that it’s not even April 1, I’ll just tell her I thought you were supposed to celebrate that holiday all through April. She won’t be suspicious, will she?

“Omg really I'm so happy how'd you realize?”

There. She responded. Immediately after reading that, all my stress, anxiety, every single fucking thing melted off me. My legs stopped shaking, and they always shake. Doesn’t matter if I’m coming out or not. But they were still. And I was just staring back at the screen, my mouth slightly open.

I felt so good. God typing this makes me feel kind of emotional. I did it. I actually did it. And I wasn’t embarrased, like how I envisioned my coming out to anybody every single fucking time. I wasn’t regretting it. I was smiling. And then I was full on grinning at the screen. I came out to someone, and they were “so happy” to hear it. I literally had to get up and hop on my bed a little. I know that sounds cheesy as fuck, but I got on my small sofa bed and hopped a bit. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt so good.

So I started telling her how I realized. How I think I kind of have always known but I would suppress it because my family wasn’t exactly open to it. How in middle school I had tiny crushes on girls and kind of...fantasize about kissing them. How I was in love with Lady Gaga, but then I realized it wasn’t just her music that I liked. How reading any wlw book or fanfiction made me feel kind of jealous of one of the characters. How after reading gay literature (such as Simon vs The Homo-Sapiens’ Agenda and Leah On The Offbeat) made me finally accept that I don’t just like guys, and that it was 100% normal. I don’t know, but when you know, you know. I hid it all these years because of my family. My mom literally told me she thinks my brother might turn out gay because he only has a bunch of older sisters, and that her and my dad were trying to “get it out of him”. Whatever “it” was. Guess how old my brother was when she told me that? Like 3 years old. 

I don’t know. I know my parents won’t kick me out if I told them, so I guess I’m lucky on that end. But they just make all these jokes and whenever they meet someone who is gay, they make it point to point it out in a story they might tell during dinner. My mom’s cousin came out as lesbian last summer, and my mom’s aunt (not her cousin’s mom) was saying how she didn’t want to talk to her anymore and for her to not even think about visiting her. I watch old home videos of my mom hanging out with her cousins and throwing around words like the fa**** and great stuff like that. My dad was brought up in a very traditional Mexican family, where my grandparents from that side of the family might whip out a bible if I tell them. You know the sorts. Even my older sister has a bit of both of my parents. She loves stereotyping, in which for example if at work a guy gives her attitude, he’s probably gay. She talks about celebrities’ sexual orientations like she knows, and she makes the type of gay jokes that are not really hateful, but rather uncomfortable. I really don’t like those jokes. They’re like the equivalent to “I can’t be homophobic! I made eye contact with a gay on June 8, 2017!”

Woah there, I wrote a big one, boys! This was just supposed to be a coming out story but turned out to be a whole rant as to why I don’t come out. If you’re still reading this, thanks. It means the world to me. 

But anyways, my coming out yesterday, overall, I rate it bittersweet. It’s like the word bittersweet was made for this exact experience. It was very sweet in the fact that I’m already starting my journey to being out of the closet. I’m not completely out, but let’s just say I unlocked the door, and someone noticed. I’m not out, but I’m not in either, and that’s the sweet part. The bitter is the fact that I felt terrible and like death before coming out, and that was to an open, sweet, BISEXUAL friend. Imagine how I’m going to feel when I tell other people? When I tell my parents? God the thought makes me nauseated. I don’t know how you people that are out do it. I mean, I can’t even stomach the idea, but I’ll get around it some day. If you’re out, you are such a brave little muffin, and I’m proud of you. If you’re closeted, I’m still proud of you for figuring out who you are and for being brave for just being here, having to restrain yourself when you hear homophobic shit. If you’re questioning, you’re still brave for taking the step to figure out yourself, and I really hope you’re comfortable with yourself and you take all the time you need. 

Wow I’m a trainwreck. If you read from beginning to end, thank you you’re so sweet. I’ll keep updating this thread if I come out to someone else or if something happens. Writing makes me feel kind of liberated.

[quiltwork]

How my traumatic childhood affected my sexuality

So I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, but I used to be gay and trans, and probably a so-called “gay Christian” if u can call it that. To be honest, my abusers were more of that title than I ever was. 

My history leading up to it was rough. When I was 11, I was sexually abused by 2 of my friends who were girls. They were 12 and 13, in middle school, while I was still in the 5th Grade. They wanted me to be quiet and hurry up, don’t tell anyone. No reason why. We slept together watching a sex toy infomercial. I never told my family out of fear I’d be rejected for being bad and disgusting, and be thrown out on the streets. These girls were popular at their school and I went to church with them whenever I spent the night with them in their town. Their friends hated me and would bully and exclude me when they came over for parties. I didn’t want to feel the grief of the sexual abuse that night so I told myself I would forget about it, and it actually happened. Amnesia set in, like it did for every other trauma.

By 12, I was emotionally neglected by my mom. She was busy with work, the house, my unstable abusive older sister, my grandpa, everything but me. I had no real friends so I stayed inside with my technology addiction. Tried grabbing mom’s attention with my interests, never worked. I would daydream that I was a lonely orphaned crying fairy under a waterfall, who was going to make friends the next day. I drew myself and tried to feel good about my developing body, that when I showed mom and my sister the picture, my sister, jealous of my body and any time I could talk to mom, shamed me for the way I drew my body. That it wasn’t good enough like hers, but she was an adult and I was a child. It culminated into another fight between her and mom, with mom almost losing a finger and running off to the hospital, leaving me with my suicidal sister attempting to take her life again. 

By 13, I was confused about my sexuality. Started liking girls and women and not knowing why. Tried telling mom about it, and she’d avoid the topic and tell me not to talk about it with anyone. An old friend who went to my birthday party developed a “crush” on me then. This friend was a Sophomore in high school, while I was a 7th Grader. She grew up in church and saw herself as a gay Christian. She knew my relationship with mom sucked, and told me, “I think I know you better than your mom does, sweetie..”. That was the beginning of her grooming. Of her dressing me up, doing my hair and makeup and taking me out. Teaching me ballroom dancing. Showing me gay pedophilic manga, how to ship same sex friendships in cartoons and anime. Pushing me to continue obsessing over an abusive gay pedophilic cartoon couple. Walking me over to the high school’s Gay-Straight Alliance Club. A Club run by a lesbian Christian woman completely cool with teaching her kids that it was alright to be sexually attracted to inanimate objects like tourist attractions, cars and probably animals. My grooming abuser basically taught me that God loved me and made me gay, so I should ignore those who are “hateful”. 

I came out by 14. There was a girl who was obviously bi curious who kept flirting with me, so I developed a love addiction for her. Did everything in my power to get her to date me, and when she eventually gave in, she started cheating on me with multiple guys. Didn’t know it was her doing it, so I fought them off, or tried to. I had to make sure she wouldn’t leave me, that no one would take her away, that her mom wouldn’t separate us or the school, or else I’d be all alone. She was hypersexual, so I did everything she wanted, even BDSM just to keep her. Even though I didn’t want to and it made me at times very uncomfortable and anxious and dissociative, I kind of liked it anyway. It was a trauma bond. It was what I was used to. 

At 15, I didn’t want to be a girl anymore and came out as a boy. I didn’t want to be doing anything sexual anymore either, so I was asexual. I very obviously was running away from my sexual abuse/grooming and the objectivity it placed on my female identity, but I thought starting my Freshman year anew was the best idea. My girlfriend began to back off after I finally told her I don’t think I can kiss and touch like this anymore, but I didn’t fully realize it. She wasn’t allowed at Homecoming, so my grooming abuser jumped at the chance to take me as her date without my consent. Only found out it was a date through the corsage via my cousin. My grooming abuser was now a Senior. I kicked off my high heels and ran away from the creepy dance floor of grinding bodies where she wanted me to be, and found my school friends and hung out with them until she found me, acting depressed and saying she was going home. My girlfriend avoided me to cheat in the bathrooms, even on my 16th birthday, so I broke up with her. 

2 other things: Our GSA Club went downtown for a vigil for dead gay kids, and my grooming abuser used it as an opportunity to dance with me at the square in front of everyone. She also got me to tell my “transgender testimony” to her class to try to brainwash them too, and it actually worked and I deeply regret it. I was her trophy she worked hard to win and would show me off and use me to further her agenda. 

At first I spend my 16th year depressed and subconsciously searching for a rebound. That rebound left me when I told her I was asexual, too. Then, I went crazy. Was I not good enough because I couldn’t make out and have sex? I tried a one night stand to prove my worth with a curious friend who decided at the last minute she couldn’t go through with it and left me there on the bed. I went home hating myself for being broken and not knowing why (amnesia), that I should give up on girls because I can’t make them happy. I became bitter at a world that only loved you for what you could give to it. I went into Fight mode, angry yelling and protesting at whoever and wherever I was. I dated a sweet boy who didn’t last long due to life’s circumstances so he had to move for his dying brother, dated an older guy who would avoid me or sleep on our couch. At this point, I saw myself as genderqueer and panromantic. 

On my 17th birthday, my grooming abuser came over unannounced. I wasn’t planning anything and frankly, didn’t want to be bothered. She would not stop pulling and tugging at me to go out with her, I kept saying no, and we went on this way for hours. Until at last she tried to guilt trip me, saying, “I just wanted to make you happy...” and left. I ran away from my abusive school to a career high school for my last 2 years, with a lab full of girls and one boy. I thought it was the best new experience I could try having the best friends I always wanted. They sort of liked me, until I let one of them know about my past. Then they immediately began to exclude and bully me in the halls. I stood up for myself, and they hated me and started glaring at me. After graduation when I turned 19, they started cyberbullying me for a year afterward. I became agoraphobic and lived in psychosis delusions that they were watching my every move and knew where I lived and would find me eventually. 

Within that first year out of school, God was calling me to Him. I’d always loved Him since before I could remember, so I went with the feeling. He called me to check into His Word about if being gay was actually alright, and I found out it wasn’t, and it shocked me. I couldn’t reconcile what I read with what I was taught, so I wrestled with it. Why was it bad, why why why? He didn’t give me the answers at first, he let me wrestle for a time.

On my 20th birthday, I drew gay shipping fanart, and that was the day the Holy Spirit held heavy on my heart that what I was doing was wrong. I felt oddly bad for what I did, so I went to Him with an idea: If He truly felt like it was a sin, then I asked Him to change me and I’d avoid all appearance of it for a while until then. If it wasn’t bad, I figured it wouldn’t go away. He would let it be because it wasn’t a problem, and I’d be okay with it. So I repented for 3 months, came back to check, and the feelings were gone. I saw beautiful women as creations of God, as my sisters. I saw those same sex friendships in cartoons and anime as just that, friendships. I was amazed, and eventually told God to reveal anything else I had been blind to, completely grateful for what He had done.

And He started to lift off all of my amnesia, leading me towards trauma and addiction recovery with Him 💕 So, if you haven’t heard it yet, that’s my story 😊

[bloomtech]

( Alberto Rosende + NB Man + He/They ) isn’t that Carlos Tavor over there singing?  they’ve been in bloom for one year and I didn’t know they did that. somehow i know they’re a twenty-six-year-old stage tech. i’m pretty sure they’re bi with a strong preference for men and i heard they’re into hair pulling + oral fixation they’re staying at bloom court so maybe you stand a chance. ♡ penned by Terry & pacific & he/they/it

mic.off: Hey!! My name is Terry and I’ll be penning for Carlos and another baby ( hopefully ) sdlfkj I haven’t been in a group RP in a while and I'm very excited. I'm twenty-five and I’m an nb trans man as well as being gay sdljkf Carlos is a new muse that I have yet to write for so bare with me if he’s not totally realized. Here’s some info about him! Apologies I’m not the BEST at writing bios. There are two people mentioned in his bio Iris and Iris’ ex-boyfriend, both id’ totally love to see realized here in wanted connections if anybody is at all interested. 

Name: Carlos Alvaro Tavor 

Age: Twenty six

Sexuality: Bi with a heavy preference for men, he’s not at all opposed to being with a woman and is attracted to them it’s just basically easier for a man/male aligned person to get in bed with him or have a flirty romantic relationship than for a binary woman

Gender: NB man, he’s amab but like what the fuck is gender anyway?

Family and friends: Carlos has four sisters, one mother, three best friends back home and little to no friends at bloom. He tends to focus all his energy and attention into his job so even if you know him, he’s only been there about a year so it’s likely he won’t consider anyone a friend yet. His father passed away in an incident he doesn’t wish to discuss. 

Sexually: Carlos is a verse, he tends to prefer being the submissive one but most definitely enjoys dominating the situation as well. Top or bottom is fine real men get pegged and he has an oral fixation and loves giving head to his partners regardless of what they have going on. He’s kinda into dirty talk but if you try and get him to speak Spanish during sex he’s just gonna fuckin leave lskjdhfjsdfg he has no patience for that Latin lover bullshit

Bio: Carlos was born the youngest of five children and the first and only boy of his parents. His father died when he was about two years old and only he, his family and his best friend Iris really know all the details, he really clams up when asked about it.

 When he was four he met Iris, an Irish girl who would later turn out to be his very best friend.

 They were inseparable and saw each other through so many hardships, their families even becoming very close and Iris’ father and Carlos’ mother even grew closer as well. 

Carlos lived a pretty basic childhood if you asked hi. He picked up music from a very young age as a way to stay connected to his Cuban roots, learning the guitar, piano and how to sing. He could never get lessons because his mother was working three jobs to support five children ( his two oldest sisters also had part-time jobs while attending high school ) so he would never even consider asking. He considered it a blessing when he got his acoustic for his fourteenth birthday, crying when his mom told him she’d been saving up for it since he was ten and she saw him dancing around the living room strumming an air guitar to some of his favorite songs. He hugged his mom and promised to keep it safe and loved ( which he has, he still owns it to this day though it’s age is beginning to show a bit he’s never let any harm come to it ) 

When he entered high school is when things got, complicated. He was still a pretty average guy, he loved comics and videogames and anime, he joined band and theater as a stage tech. There he found his other calling, production. Turns out he was just as comfortable behind the stage as he was on it and was a natural leader with keeping things in check and order. Freshman year was also a big change for him because of Iris’ boyfriend, and not ... why you’d think. Or maybe exactly why you’d think cause he’s a giant gay cliche. He ended up being very attracted to the tall, intimidating heterochromatic jock. 

which was, scary. like really really scary because he felt he’d never really been THAT into guys before. Sure he’d thought guys were hot but .. so do most guys right? Yeah no.  Throughout his freshman year, Carlos quickly realized he was more in the middle of the Kinsey scale, finding attraction in men, women and pretty much everyone he met depending on the person. Iris supported him fully in this discovery, though never knowing about his massive crush on her then-boyfriend, and even helped him understand his gender confusion and pick up the non-binary label and they pronouns. 

Which, is why come junior year when Iris is doubting her own sexuality, Carlos had her back and helped her come to realize she was, in fact, a lesbian. Her at the time boyfriend was surprisingly perfectly okay and supportive and stayed close friends with them both which just made Carlos fall even more smitten with the stupid sexy het jock goddamnit. 

Enough about his highschool pining drama, Carlos graduated with honors and worked his ass off to get a full-ride scholarship to a moderately known performing arts school where he honed his skills both behind and on the stage as a performer for years. Graduating with a degree in music production with a minor in stage management. 

With the support of two of his best friends he launched himself into the world and was, immediately exhausted and sad. Playing bar after underpaying bar, working low pay low appreciation stage tech and management jobs he was almost ready to quit the music industry entirely were it not for his sisters and Iris especially. Eventually, Iris ex saw an advertisement saying bloomfest was looking for new stage crew and tried to convince Carlos to go saying this would be good for him and help him find a place where his talent and craft are truly appreciated. 

After talking it over with Iris, his mom, his sisters he found they all agreed and said he should go so, taking a chance his basic ass never thought he would he packed up his bags and moved to bloomfest as a permanent resident and employee. While he hasn’t been there long he’s made a name for himself as a reliable tech who will go above and beyond to get what you need and get it done even if he’s a bit grumpy about it. While his official job is dealing with stage tech, he spreads himself wherever he is needed in bloomfest and can often be found doing many odd jobs around in bizarre places. It’s just the kind of person he is. Helpful to a fault. 

Personality: He’s a bit grumpy seeming when you first meet him, but that’s just because of how little sleep the idiot gets. He’s actually an absolute puppy if you don’t upset him. Loyal to a fault, eager to please and always willing to make friends if it’s not getting in the way of his work. He’s a bit more, bitter towards musicians at Bloom fest simply because he’s jealous, and a bit sick of catering to the needs of over specific spoiled musicians and recieving no credit for his hard work or even a thank you. Don’t take it personal, if you have a good additude he’s likely to warm up fast. He’s always down to play flirt or real flirt really, he’s a fuckign flirt of flirts nobody is safe ( unless they say like hey im uncomfortable don’t do that then of course he’d stop but you get the idea ) He’s got a passion for music and creative arts, and a special love for comics, videogames and anime. Due to his oral fixation you’ll often see him with hard candy or gum or his batman shaped chewey necklace! He’s also FIERCELY protective of women so watch out for that cause he can and will punch you.

Strengths: Loyal, skilled, charming, kind, creative, hard working.

Weaknesses: Too trusting, quick to solving things on his own without thinking, stretches himself too thin, kinda snippy at times, closed off to really falling in love due to emotional traumas from his past, 

[transkingoryx]

I don't particularly care what fandom but could you do two hopelessly oblivious lesbians pining for each other while being friends who go to different schools and lesbian 1 is waiting for the other to walk her home from school bc how sweet and lesbian 2 is crying bc she got bullied at school for being gay and "I didn't know you were gay" "do you mind?" "No I'm gay too" "you what?" So they kiss to prove it and realise they both have feelings for each other

Sorry I took so long to write this!

“oh my god, they were roommates” 

(Kyoka Jirou/Momo Yaoyorozu from My Hero Academia)

Kyoka tapped her foot impatiently against the sidewalk, scanning the street for her best friend/crush. Yao-Momo had never been late before, and Kyoka had to say that she was a little worried about her friend. She and Yao-Momo walked home together every day, and it was usually the most time they spent together during the day. It gave her something to look forward to after a long day of tedious schoolwork, condescending teachers, and know-it-all classmates. UA High wasn’t the same without Momo Yaoyorozu. 

Yao-Momo had left UA after second year, because her parents wanted her to switch to Shiketsu High School after Midoriya collapsed the dorms when he lost control of his quirk during an argument with Bakugou. Kyoka missed her every day at school, and every time she spoke to Midoriya or Bakugou, she couldn’t help but feel bitter. Her only friend (besides Kaminari, but he was always busy with Shinsou anyways) had changed schools because they couldn’t be bothered to not destroy stuff. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it. There was a text from Denki. 

‘Are you going to tell her today?’ he’d written. She tapped out a hurried reply. 

‘Maybe. It depends on if I think she likes me or not.’ 

He replied immediately. ‘She totally does, you know. You two are so obvious’ Kyoka blushed scarlet. 

‘First of all, we are so not! Second of all, even if she does like me, if one of us confesses first, it’s not going to be me.’  

‘Famous last words, Kyoka.’ 

‘Do you really think I’d be the one to confess first?’

‘I will annoy you until you do’

‘Fair enough’ Kyoka relented. 

Finally, she spotted Yao-Momo hurrying up the sidewalk towards her. 

“Kyoka! I’m sorry I’m so late, I promise I won’t let it happen-” Yao-Momo began to apologize once she reached Kyoka. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind,” Kyoka reassured her. Yao-Momo gave a small smile that seemed dazzling. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Now that she was seeing Yao-Momo up close, she noticed that her usually bright eyes were red from crying. “Yao-Momo? Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course I’m fine,” Yao-Momo smiled again, but it was clearly forced. 

“You’re crying. What’s wrong? Who do I have to fight?” 

Yao-Momo’s composure shattered, and she burst into tears, and Kyoka wrapped her arms around the crying girl, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness come over her. 

“S-some people i-in my class cornered m-me after school,” Yao-Momo sobbed. “T-they were b-bullying me because I’m l-lesbian.” 

“Can you give me their names?” Kyoka asked. 

“Kyoka, please don’t fight anyone on my behalf. I don’t want you to get into trouble.” Yao-Momo created a tissue and dried her tears with it.

“What if I promise not to hurt them too badly?”

“Kyoka.”

“Yao-Momo,” Kyoka matched her exasperated tone.

“Kyoka.” Yao-Momo was not amused.

“All right, I won’t fight anyone,” Kyoka relented. She finally registered the last part of Yao-Momo’s sentence. “Wait- you’re gay?”

“Oh. Yes, I’m a lesbian. Does that bother you?” Yao-Momo seemed to realize that she hadn’t come out to Kyoka before. She pulled out of Kyoka’s embrace and stood stiffly next to her, waiting with bated breath for her reply.

“No, I’m gay too,” Kyoka said, her heart thundering. I can’t believe I’m coming out to my crush. 

“Y-you are?” Yao-Momo sounded surprised, but not necessarily in a bad way. 

“Yeah.” This is awkward.  Yao-Momo seemed to be thinking the same thing. 

“Kyoka… do you ever think about love?” Kyoka turned to Yao-Momo who was staring off into space. She seemed unfocused, and her expression was almost almost… disappointed? Ashamed? Lost? Kyoka wasn’t sure how to describe it.

“Yeah, sometimes,” she replied cautiously, shoving down the worry welling up inside her.

“Some days, I think I’m never going to find someone who really loves me for who I am,” Yao-Momo confessed. She blinked. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to bother you.” She turned away from Kyoka, hiding her face. Kyoka gently took Yao-Momo by the shoulders, turning her back towards her. 

“Momo, look at me.” she did. “You’re an amazing person, and I can’t think of a single reason someone wouldn’t want to be around you unless they were jealous of you. You’re perfect in every possible way.” Oh my gosh I can’t believe I just said that. She’s going to figure out that I like her for sure. Oh well, if I’m going to tell her… it might as well be now. “Momo, I…” Just say it!  “I…” She was too scared, scared of rejection, of losing her only friend besides Denki. Pathetic. I can’t even say the three most important words of my life. ‘I like you, Momo’. How hard could it be?! Very hard, apparently.

“I like you.” a weight seemed to lift off Kyoka’s shoulders, replaced by anxiety. Oh my gosh I told her, what if she rejects me, I can’t believe I did this I’m such an idiot-

“Kyoka- I like you too.” Yao-Momo burst out. She spoke very quickly, as though scared of losing her nerve and not saying it. “I’ve liked you since I first met you in first year.” 

I finally did it! I finally told her!  

Suddenly the space between them had shrunk to just a few inches and Momo was leaning closer and oh my gosh she’s going to kiss me. Kyoka stepped forward to make up the remaining distance and her lips met Momo’s. It seemed like time stopped, and the flutter in her chest only intensified with every passing second. After what seemed like both forever and no time at all, they broke apart, grinning. 

“I guess Denki was right after all.” Kyoka said the first thing that came to mind. “He said you liked me back, but I didn’t believe him...”

“I guess he and Shoto were both done with our oblivious pining,” Momo smiled. 

“Yeah.” “Kyoka,” Yao-Momo began. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Yes!” Kyoka said. “I- I mean, yeah, sure.” Momo laughed. 

“We should probably go home now,” Momo commented. 

“Probably.” Kyoka knew Momo was right, and she also knew that neither of them had no intention of doing so.  She leaned her head against Momo’s shoulder. 

“This sounds like the plot of a bad fanfiction,” Kyoka observed. 

“You’re right.” Momo put her arm around Kyoka. “Is this the part where we live happily ever after and end up being roommates at some point?” 

“Oh my god, we were roommates,” Kyoka laughed. “But yeah, happily ever after sounds good.”

[b-rainlet]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before Tua AU!

With Luther as Lara Jean.

Now hold on, think about it:

Lara Jean writes love letters to her crushes. Luther CANONLY writes poems.

So: Luther writes Love Poems to all the crushes he’s had in his life

But he never intends for them to get out; they’re just silly little things he wrote to properly gush about his crushes

Cue Five as his little sibling who is just enough of a chaotic good to make sure the poems all get send to the crushes

Five probably also thrives of Drama and there hasn’t been happening anything scandalous in their household lately, so why the fuck not

Also gotta stay on brand so Five? Enby

They send the letters out and Luther is like OH FUCK

Mainly because he may possibly just maybe very hypothetically....

.....has had a crush on his sister’s boyfriend and wrote him a letter too

(Just maybe)

Now, Allison is Luther’s sister (Margot? I don’t remember her name)

And her boyfriend is Ben

Who’s been Luther’s best friend since before him and Allison got together

(And maybe Luther’s jealous of all the time Ben spends now with Allison and his love poem entails a lot of pining and heartbrokeness)

(So what)

(It’s not like he actually expected the poems to actually get out)

In this scenario Ben and Allison are still together though and that makes it even more catastrophic because shit, what if Luther just ruined the relationship of his two closest friends?

There were 5 poems in total:

The one about Ben

One about a girl in his class that once danced with him on homecoming or whatever dances you weird americans have (Vanya)

One to a girl he met at summer camp that thankfully was returned to him because they couldn’t track her down and Luther never knew her home address (The furry girl lmao)

One poem he wrote in 7th grade, after a new student came to their school, who had the weirdest accent ever and told them his family comes from Germany and who pushed Luther in a whole ass sexuality crisis at the tender age of 13

(The boy turned out to be Klaus and after some awkward kissing they decided to stay friends so technically, Klaus knows about Luther’s former crush. Still not fun to have it brought up again now)

And

The absolut worst poem

To that one dickhead on the football team who’s just so fucking full of himself all the time

And who keeps mouthing off to Luther - who’s team captain - and being a general nauseance

And who still has nice enough eyes and hands and lips that Luther sometimes catches himself staring

(It’s Diego)

(Of course it’s Diego)

Y’all know my brand

Anyway

Furry Girl never gets the Letter, Klaus mostly just laughs at him when Luther explains the situation but is otherwise chill and Vanya very awkwardly explains to Luther that she’s very much a lesbian

So all good there

The problems are Ben and Diego

And at that point it pretty much follows the movie plot, I guess

Diego just broke up with his long term girlfriend Patch (who is very nice and not at all like the gf in the movie)

And is amused enough by Luther’s problems aka pities him enough to go along with playing his bf so Ben backs off (who really badly wants to talk to Luther but Luther keeps running away everytime Ben so much as looks at him)

Featuring:

A highly amused Five who DEFINITELY stalks their brother to watch his love life

Highly amused Vanya and Klaus who somehow keep appearing in Luther’s room to thoroughly judge him because they know

“What are you so dressed up for? Thought it was only a pretend Date?” - “Still has to look real.” - “Uh-huh. Of course.”

Definitely a scene where Five, Vanya and Klaus very obviously hide somwhere to watch Diego and Luther and Luther wants to just disappear into the ground

They of course get caught stalking the two of them and then introduce themselves to Diego and keep dropping hints that Luther likes Diego and Luther is ready for murder

A scene where Patch comes up to Luther and Luther is like ’oh no’ but Patch is very friendly and tells him that she’s glad that he makes Diego happy

(They also gossip about Diego until Diego comes over and goes ‘exCUSE ME’ and Patch goes ‘Yeah, excuse you. I was talking to your boyfriend.’)

Vanya having the hots for Patch and they somehow end up going on a double date and Luthe realizes that this doesn’t feel like they’re acting anymore, especially because Diego doesn’t even use the chance to win Patch back, he just keeps looking at Luther and holding his hand and whispering things in his ear and wrapping his arms around him-

Maybe Luther’s in deep shit

Also Ben spends a lot of time at Luther’s place because of Allison, so Luther def has sleepovers at Diego’s house

Grace as Diego’s Mum!

She’s his foster Mum and she’s The Best ™ 

It all comes to an end when Ben finally gets Luther alone

And they have a talk (because Ben is a soft boy and a good friend) and Luther confesses that maybe he confused friendship with love there because he was jealous that he ‘lost’ his best friend to his sister

And they hug it out and all should be well

But then Diego’s there and ready to fight because he’s a possessive angery boy

And Ben - who still thinks that Luther only ‘dates’ Diego to avoid him - is like ‘You can stop acting, I know everything and we talked; you can break up now’

And Diego’s like ‘Oh yeah sure, acting’ and is bitter

He avoids Luther from then on and Klaus is the one to tell Luther that apparently Diego tells everyone they ‘broke up’

(Patch actually says she’s surprised because they seemed so happy together)

So Luther goes to the only person who knows how to properly fix messes

Allison

He confesses everything, ready to kneel before her and plead for forgiveness but Allison just goes “I know.”

“You know?” - “Of course! Ben told me everything and we decided that he should try talking to you first. You think he keeps secrets from me? We’re in a healthy relationship.”

During all this she’s like calmy doing her make up and Luther’s stunned

“You’re not mad?” - “Why should I? You can’t help who you fall in love with. Besides; seems like you’re interested in someone else now.”

They definitely have Boy Talk then, complete with watching rom-coms and Allison giving him advice on how to fix things with Diego

They have a heart to heart on the football field like in the movie

“I like you and I wanna be together without acting. If you would like that?” - “Oh my god, Luther, how incredibly dense are you, I am literally in love with you-”

Diego keeps cursing out Luther and his stupidity while he walks up to him and cups his jaw and kisses him

“You’re an idiot-” Kiss. “I couldn’t have been more obvious-” Kiss. “Patch even told me to tone it down a bit-” Kiss.

“Wait, Patch knew??” - “Not from the beginning. But she figured it out.”

Basically, give me the premise of tatbilb, but make the characters have common sense and kill the trope of ‘mean girlfriend of good guy’

No one ever finds out who sent the letters. Five just grins, rubbing their hands together like the little gremlin they are.

Anyway, @lonelyboy-in-space inspired me to write this out. Until next time when I come up with weird AUs.

[iv-kplpt]

lacanverse part I - objet petit a

this one is complicated, long story short: a pinnguin au, partially based on lacanian terminology. inspired by @teawitchjoan​ and @hollyknight​.

summary: oswald’s one and only goal was getting bruce wayne out of his position as ceo - and he achieved it. and it feels like nothing. his life feels like nothing. and then... she comes along. (the old town’s changed so much, he doesn’t feel like he belongs.) ~6,7k words so far rated m because i said so and because there most likely will be some sex in part II or III.

He got what he wanted - and it felt like nothing, like sulfur, like ash. It felt bitter. It felt empty. He felt empty.

Oswald got his revenge - got back what rightfully belonged to him. He got Bruce Wayne out of his CEO position at Wayne Enterprises; he got money. His family’s land. A luxurious penthouse, overlooking the city.

And yet… He felt so perfectly, absolutely empty. His life in Essex was far from perfect; but at least it was honest. It was filled with bruises and spilled blood and jealousy and anger - but in Gotham he was living a lie.

(His whole résumé was a lie - but it worked.)

He missed his old life, actually - he missed the bruises. The feeling of a fist, crashing against his jaw. He still had sleepless nights, at least.

(With great money came a lot of possibilities for self destruction.)

Oswald was… Not doing great as CEO. At first, everyone was charmed - he was intelligent and eloquent and seemed scrupulous and honest, hell, he almost tricked himself; but something was missing.

He got what he wanted; and yet - despite having nearly everything - he still felt like he had nothing to his name.

He practically became the new face of Gotham - and it felt like nothing.

(He missed getting punch drunk and just drunk and he missed the fleeting thrill of fucking with exasperated cops.)

Oswald Cobblepot had everything; and it turned out, crying in a Ferrari still feels like crap.

He felt something when he tricked Bruce Wayne into punching him, right in front of Regina; it was a weirdly pleasant feeling, getting a black eye from his childhood friend whose family stole everything from him. And then… Nothing - nothing for three months, spent mostly alone.

(He didn’t make any friends. Lots of people tried to get into his life; but he wasn’t letting anyone in. He knew what are they after; and he didn’t feel like playing that game.)

He was in a bar. Salvatore Maroni recently bought it from Carmine Falcone, and was rebranding it - the place was no longer a mafia den, turning into just another expensive, exclusive bar Gotham was filled with. He liked that place, plain and simple; and last time he was there - back when it still belonged to now disgraced Falcone - he met someone; she had red hair, playful smile and Oswald couldn’t get her out of his head.

So, he was in Peperoncino, watching Jacques - the young bartender - work his miracles. Jacques had a beautiful, almost angelic face and Oswald sometimes considered trying to get closer to him; but the man was in a relationship, and Oz wasn’t too fond of getting tangled up as the third one. It was never worth it.

“So, what is it gonna be tonight, mister Cobblepot?” Jacques asked and Oswald winced slightly.

“I told you to just call me Oswald.” he said, tapping his fingers at a wooden surface of the bar, glancing at the tv flatscreen behind Jacques. “And whiskey.”

“On the rocks?” Jacques asked; his copper hair looked beautiful in the dim light and Oswald sighed, almost feeling jealous for Jacques’s partner.

(It’s been a while since he last spent the night with anyone.)

“Yeah.” he said, again glancing at the screen. “Hey. Turn up the volume.”

He recognized the face on the screen - he’d recognize it anywhere. It was the girl he met at Peperoncino - Charlie.

“This is yesterday’s news.” Jacques said, after looking up. “Want a shortened version?”

“Alright.” Oswald sighed, as Jacques set his glass down in front of him. “Do tell.”

“She’s a daughter of billionaires from NYC.” Jacques said, picking up the shaker. “She married a con artist, he ran away with the money. Her parents… Didn’t take it well.”

“They committed suicide, you mean.” Oswald corrected him calmly, despite not feeling calm at all. “Go on.”

“She disappeared for two years. And now… She’s back. And her husband is dead. She refuses to give out any details.”

“Huh.” Oswald said; a picture of Charlie was still on screen behind Jacques. It was a good picture, giving justice to her eyes and lips and the way her hair curled and fell on her cheekbones. “Ugly story.”

“But not the ugliest I’ve heard.” Jacques said nonchalantly and Oswald smiled slightly, knowing damn well the bartender is referring to the tragedy that befell the Cobblepot family. “Why are you so interested?”

“Because i know that girl.”

“Oh? A friend of yours?”

“You could say that, yes.” Oswald said, thinking back to the night they spent together in Maroni’s apartment, her fingernails on his back, his teeth on her neck. “I’m glad she found what she was looking for.”

“I can imagine.” Jacques nodded, sliding a strawberry daiquiri to a woman sitting nearby. “Why do you come here so often?”

“Let’s trade. You’ll give me an ashtray, and I’ll give you an answer.”

“Deal.” Jacques said with a faint smile, setting an astray down in front of him. “So?”

“Because this is the only bloody bar in Gotham where no one tries to pick me up.” Oswald muttered, lighting up a cigarette. “I’m a dream trophy husband, apparently… And a lot of ladies suddenly want to be my trophy wife.”

“Young, rich, tragic, handsome.” Jacques said knowingly and Oswald snickered. “Mmm. Yes. I almost see the appeal.”

“You might joke, but it’s true. Lots of people want me… And I don’t want any of them.”

He wasn’t lying; he wasn’t interested in people who were interested in him. Or - “interested”, as he was sure none of this is genuine, that none of those people would even look in his general direction if he wasn’t rich.

(He missed people he left behind in Essex.)

“An ice prince in his ivory tower.” Jacques chuckled and Oswald smiled. “That’s so pretentious, mister Cobblepot.”

“Life’s a bitch, so am I.” he said without thinking and the bartender groaned.

*** He spent many evenings like that - it was either this or loneliness; he very quickly grew bored of fancy, high society parties he was frequently invited to. Making polite, passive-aggressive remarks towards Bruce was fun for a while; and so was the attention he was getting. Quickly he started to feel like an exotic curiosity; and he knew no one would like him if he became himself - truly himself - for one more moment.

He didn’t make any friends. He felt lonely, and spending money wasn’t helping; it was still just him and his thoughts.

He sometimes wonder what would his parents think of him. He did get back what was stolen from them; would they be proud? He hoped so.

(He always loved the way his mother called him her pride, and he always loved the way his father introduced him to his friends and business partners.)

He spent about six months like that, and during those six months he genuinely felt something only once, when he saw her photo behind Jacques. What was it? He wasn’t sure - pride? Sympathy?

At least it wasn’t boredom. At least it was something.

He spent nearly six months drinking excessively and chatting up Jacques and Esme - Maroni’s secretary. He knew her polite attention is safe - Esme was a married lesbian; married lesbians don’t steal heart-shaped wallets, at least not from men.

Drugs were an option too - and he was heavily considering this option when everything changed. Drugs and recklessness; he missed the thrill of fighting, fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, the adrenaline rush, blood on his knuckles.

That evening, he was at a party - a charity fundraiser, hosted by the Kane family. He decided some fresh air might be good for him and his lungs; and he was politely trying to blow another gold digger off - knowing damn well members of the board, of his board are watching from a safe distance - when his phone buzzed,

Not many people had his private number; less than ten, actually. He valued his privacy; and he didn’t trust many people anyway.

(Trust is overrated. Trust drove his father to suicide. Trust got his mother committed to Arkham.)

“Uh-uh.” he muttered, glancing at it; it was a text from Jacques.

GUESS WHO’S HERE

...Santa? Oswald typed back, not paying any attention to the person standing right in front of him.

Your friend! She seems nice. She ordered a martini.

Oswald’s heart skipped a beat, when he realized who is Jacques talking about. He wasn’t sure why - he barely knew Charlie, they had sex once and that was it. And yet… The memory stuck with him. It was less about the fact they had sex, and more about the way her skin felt under his fingers, the way her breath felt on his skin, the way her hair fell on her face and the way her laughter sounded in his ears. Maybe it was all simply because she snuck out in the morning, leaving him asleep and alone.

(She left him a note, signed with an imprint of her lips. He wanted to dispose of it - he really did; but he never got rid of that card and he was sure it’s still somewhere among his things, along with the lipstick-stained shirt he wore that night.)

I’m on my way. Thanks, Cupid.

I used to practice archery, actually. :P

“I have to go.” he said suddenly, interrupting the nameless woman mid-sentence. “I’d say it was nice meeting you, but frankly, I don’t feel like lying tonight.”

(It was the most asshole thing he said in a long time; it felt good. Like a breath of fresh air.)

He left without another word and arrived at Peperoncino soon after.

“Mister Cobblepot!” Jacques called out to him. “Impeccable timing.”

“Where is she?” Oswald asked, trying to be calm, even though he didn’t remember last time he felt so excited. Jacques giggled.

“In the bathroom.” he said finally and Oswald sighed with relief. “She’s having a girls’ night out with-”

“With me.” Oswald heard a familiar voice, coming from behind him; and when he turned around - there she was, Misty Haze, in all her crossed-armed, plump glory, staring him down with disapproval. “Mister Cobblepot.”

“Miss Haze.” he said nonchalantly and she scoffed; she wasn’t too fond of him. He refused to give her an interview abouts seven times; and then went and gave one to her rival from the same newspaper, Vicki Vale.

(He owed Vicki Vale a lot; her investigative skills brought a lot of things to light.)

“What do you want from her, mister Cobblepot?” Misty asked sharply.

That was an excellent question, and one he didn’t quite have answer for; luckily, he never had to search for one, because in that moment Charlie returned from the bathroom, thus again entering his life.

“What’s going on?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, same way she did all those months ago, when they first met.

(She looked beautiful. She looked happy.)

And then she noticed Oswald.

“Oh my god!” she said joyfully, her face lighting up. “Oswald? Oswald Cobblepot?”

“I’m surprised you remember me.” he said softly; way softer than he intended.

“I assume… Congratulations are in order!” she said cheerfully, seemingly unaware of anything. “That’s quite a step-up from who you were when we first met.”

“Nobody.” he replied calmly and her smiled paled. “I was nobody. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

(What was he doing? He had no idea. He had a feeling he’s not going to like the response he probably just provoked; he almost regretted saying anything.)

“Was that insensitive?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay.” he interrupted her hastily; his phone was buzzing quietly in his pocket. “I suppose I’m just… Touchy.”

“Uh-uh.” she nodded, looking at him weirdly. “But anyway… It’s good to see you again.”

She smiled nervously, her eyes fixated on his face, on the scar running across the bridge of his nose, the one she once gently brushed with her fingertips before he leaned in and stole a kiss from her.

“It’s good to see you as well.” he said softly and Misty rolled her eyes. “I… Have to get going. Have a good night.”

He turned around and left before any of them answered; outside he fished out his phone, to see a string of messages from Jacques who was quietly listening to everything.

Wow, smooth. the last message read and Oswald sighed.

Shut up.

Do you want me to let you know if she drops by in the future? No additional charges, just order a drink next time. :P

...yeah.

He sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket and lighting up a cigarette; he felt surprisingly anxious.

Some ash had fallen onto his polished, expensive shoe; but he didn’t care. He just stared at it tiredly. He could always buy another pair.

*** He haven’t heard from her for a week; why would he? He turned around and left as soon as it was possible; plus they were just one step above being strangers.

(She looked so concerned when she thought she offended him. She looked sorry. She looked soft and beautiful.)

He met her at another fundraiser; she was Maroni’s plus one. He knew and kind of liked Salvatore - he was a weird, old man, but he did take him under his wings when Oswald first showed up in Gotham for the first time in twenty years.

They bumped into each other next to the fountain, or rather: he bumped into her. He noticed her some time earlier, and had been absentmindedly following her with his eyes for quite some time now; he picked a moment when she was alone and walked up to her, pretending he doesn’t see her.

She almost dropped her wine glass, but smiled as soon as she looked up and saw his best, apologetic smile.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry!” he said. “I didn’t see you.”

“Well, you see me now.” she said with a playful smile. “Enjoying yourself?”

“I am now.” he said instantly and she laughed, shaking her head slightly; she was wearing the same exact shade of red lipstick she did when they first met. “And you?”

“Oh, not really.” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know anyone, I’m… Still new to town. And my partner disappeared somewhere.”

“He’s like that.” Oswald said with a knowing nod. “I bet he just wanted to show you off.”

“Well gee, I hope he’s coming back, he’s my ride home.” she said jokingly. “You look good, Oswald. This life must agree with you.”

(Did he really? He was drinking too much and didn’t remember last time he slept well.)

“And you look as beautiful as you did first time we met, Charlie.” he said with a wink and she giggled, covering her mouth. “We have some catching up to do, you know.”

(His most vivid memory of her was the face she made when he made her say please; he remembered her skin and her breath and her moans. Making a polite conversation felt weird.)

“Well, there’s no rush.” she said finally. “Because I’m considering a longer stay. A permanent one.”

“Oh, Gotham is good at second chances, if that’s what you’re after.” he said nonchalantly and quickly regretted it as she winced and turned her eyes away. “Shit. Sorry.”

(He just said that to a woman who most likely killed her own husband for driving her parents to suicide.)

“It’s alright.” she muttered. “So you know?”

“It was… On the news.”

“Hah. Of course it was.” she said with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. “But yeah. This is what I’m after. A second chance, another shot…”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

“You might be onto something.” she said finally. “It looks like your second chance worked out pretty well. Wonder what’s in store for me.”

Absentmindedly she reached out towards his face - and he let her; but she stopped her hand just before her fingers touched his cheek.

“We do have to catch up.” she said, brushing his - silk, yellow, expensive - tie instead. “Can I get your business card, mister Cobblepot?” she asked with a giggle and he smiled.

“Only if you have a pen. You get my private number.” he said and she gasped theatrically, handing him a fountain pen.

“Does it make me the luckiest girl in Gotham?” she asked, as he wrote his number down on the back of the card; he handed it to her and she hid it inside her purse, smiling lightly.

“Oh! There he is.” she said suddenly, spotting someone - most likely Salvatore - over his shoulder. “I have to go. I… I guess I’ll call you!”

She walked past him, took a few more steps, stopped, turned around, came back and planted a light kiss on his cheek, before leaving for good.

(Her kiss burned and he felt so alive.)

*** She never called. Or texted.

It felt almost like… A rejection - a very subtle, and a shockingly painful one. He checked his phone often; but there was nothing.

And it felt… It felt. That was a relatively new thing - he was feeling something. Something he couldn’t describe, until one morning he woke up with a realization - it was longing; something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

(He longed for revenge and fortune, and he got just that; he achieved his goal and the longing stopped, the feeling had stopped.)

He resumed his life - his lonely, empty life - until one morning Regina Zellerbach walked into his office and slammed a newspaper onto his desk, shooting him an accusatory look.

“Good morning to you as well, Regina.” he said calmly, wondering if she’s angry about the meeting he skipped or maybe about the other meeting he skipped or maybe about that one he didn’t skip, but he might have as well done that, because he spent the entire time playing a very absorbing game on his phone. “What’s up?”

(He recently switched back to his most insufferable accent; he knew it’s making all those prim and proper elite pricks uncomfortable.)

“What were you thinking?” Regina said, rapidly tapping a picture with her index finger. “You represent this corporation, and-”

“Well, for starters, I have no idea what are you talking about.” he interrupted her, picking the paper up. “So maybe give me a moment. The defense calls for a break.”

He quickly glanced at the front page, furrowing his brows and sighing when he realized what is he looking at. Someone managed to take a - slightly blurry - photo of him and Charlie, in that exact moment when her fingers were nearly touching his face.

“And what exactly seems to be the problem?” he asked finally, still staring at her fuzzy profile. “What, is it illegal for me to talk to people now?”

“She’s a murderer!” Regina said sharply and Oswald winced, calmly putting the paper down.

“Nobody’s perfect.” he said nonchalantly. “At least she’s not involved in corporate espionage.”

“...what?” Regina asked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“I asked our brightest IT guy to run some comprehensive checks on some of the people who had been chatting me up… And we found out some very interesting things. Like paychecks. Or blood connections.” he said calmly. “Come on, Regina. Cut me some slack, I’ve been a target of corporate spies for months now.”

“You still shouldn’t affiliate yourself with her.” she said stubbornly, crossing her arms and sighing. “Bruce Wayne-”

“Ah, but I’m not Bruce.” he interrupted her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s my whole thing, innit? I’m not Bruce Wayne. I’m a martyr.”

“She could be dangerous.” Regina said, sounding almost defeated. “She has a remarkably shady past. For all we know, she might be involved in corporate espionage.”

“Yes, and Bruce Wayne might be Batman.” he said sarcastically and she scoffed. “Fine! I’ll be a good boy from now on. Does that satisfy you?” he asked coldly and she sighed, shaking her head.

(Regina Zellerbach was never his ally; she did condemn Bruce Wayne for punching him, but he was well aware she’d take his old friend over him any day. The feeling was mutual - he’d take literally anyone over her as the chairwoman any day.)

Jacques texted him the same day;

She’s here the text said.

I don’t care. he replied, glancing at his own reflection in the mirror; he was lying on his bed in his littered bedroom, absentmindedly browsing the internet on his phone. His flat was a mess - he never invited anyone over, so there was no point in cleaning anything up.

Really?

Yes. Really.

You’re very moody, mister Cobblepot. Good quality for a CEO, I suppose.

When in Rome…

The longing had returned; the longing for the unobtainable.

He went for a walk that night; it’s been a while since he walked those streets. He ended up in the Cobblepot Park; the last thing his family built before everything went to shit.

He sunk a lot of money into rebuilding the place. He had the money and he had an opportunity, so he decided fuck it - and renovated the place, much to the board’s displeasure. He paid for fixing the spray-painted walls and planting new plants and clearing his father’s bust; the place was a shining diamond it used to be when he was a kid.

And yet - walking those alleys made him feel nothing.

(He remembered the last time he was there, when he was a kid, crying, with disoriented Bruce doing his best to comfort him.)

He stopped in front of his father’s bust, looking into the lifeless features, picture perfect rendition of Theodore’s serious face. Many people said his father looked intimidating - but they didn’t know him. They didn’t hear his warm laughter and the way he looked at his coy wife and the way he used to make Oswald feel like the world is a safe place.

(He always feel the safest when his father would pick him up. He felt like king of the world, sitting on his father’s arms. He felt untouchable. Indestructible.)

He looked around, to make sure he’s alone; he had a reputation to maintain. He didn’t need anyone to eavesdrop on him talking to a piece of stone.

“Hey, dad.” he finally said quietly, anxiously. “Like my suit? I picked it myself, because there was no one to help me with it.”

He paused for a moment, remembering all those times he played here with Bruce.

“I think I’m lost.” he said finally. “I achieved what I wanted, but… I’m definitely not happy. I feel… Disappointed. Bored. Would you hate me if I said fuck this and went back to England? I kinda liked it there. It was mostly shit, but at least it was mine.”

The statue didn’t answer and he brushed it with his fingertips. He never visited their graves; he didn’t have the strength. For now, speaking to the statue had to do.

“This is bullshit.” he said eventually. “I’m not happy. It’s almost as if… It was all meaningless. As if the chase was the fun part. I put so much time and effort into this - and I can’t even talk to people, because no one in Gotham cares about me as a person. Funny, right?”

He lit up a cigarette and put his hands back in his pockets.

“There’s a lot I want to tell you.” he muttered finally. “And I could use some advice. But, thanks to uncle Thomas… I’m alone in that crap.”

When he turned around, ready to leave - he saw Bruce Wayne, standing in the distance, awkwardly looking away.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Oswald muttered under his breath, fixing the collar of his coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a walk.” Bruce replied carefully, not moving. “It’s… A public place. And I have a lot of free time on my hands.”

“Mm.” Oswald muttered, glancing at him from across the small square. “And how does that feel?”

He tried to see his childhood friend in Bruce, his partner in crime, his old confidant - but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried - children they used to be were long gone; and he wasn’t ready to trust again yet.

Trust is overrated. Trust can get you killed.

Bruce Wayne looked at him with sad anticipation; Oswald wondered if he’s going to punch him again.

(He’d like him to. Then he’d be able to punch him back.)

“How are you doing?” Bruce asked finally, instead of answering his question, and Oswald scoffed. “How’s… Work?”

“Guess.” Oswald replied dryly. “You know it firsthand.”

He turned around and left, walking past - still perfectly still - Bruce.

It was starting to rain and he snickered, thinking maybe he really became the new king of Gotham, if the weather outside mirrored what was happening inside him.

His tears got lost in rain.

***

The next day he woke up with a cold, and a ringing sound in his ears - and it took him a long while to figure out the sound is coming from the door, meaning: someone probably wanted something from him.

He groaned and checked his phone - it was late afternoon and he had a lot of missed calls. He probably missed a lot of stuff; but he didn’t care.

“Yeah, yeah!” he called out, wrapping himself in a blanket and shuffling towards the door. “Why didn’t security call me first?” he asked grumpily and raspily, unlocking the door. “They’re not supposed to let random strangers into the building.”

“I charmed my way past them.” he heard in response and he blinked a few time, looking at Charlie, who had an oddly determined look on her face.

“Hello, Oswald.” she said, looking at him with concern. “Are you… Alright?”

“Did we have a date?” he muttered, despite knowing damn well they did not have a date. “And yes. I’m feeling peachy.”

“I’d believe you if you said you feel like a very old, moldy peach.” she said and he scoffed and coughed. “What happened to you?”

“I caught a cold. No big deal.” he muttered and she scoffed and shuffled past him.

(He didn’t try to stop her.)

“And what happened to this place?!” he heard her ask as he was locking the door. “Hurricane Oswald?”

“Charlie, what do you want?” he asked finally, entering his very messy living room.

“Talk?” she replied hesitantly, looking at him. “We have some… Catching up to do.”

“No, I mean what do you really want.” he said and she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows; he had to sit down. He wasn’t feeling well. “I’m not going to give you company secrets.”

(He didn’t even know any secrets.)

“I really just wanted to talk.” she said quietly, tensely crossing her arms on her chest and looking away and he almost felt like a paranoid asshole.

“Then why didn’t you call? Or text?” he blurted out. “I’ve been waiting, Charlie.”

“Because I lost your number!” she said angrily. “I accidentally spilled some water on the card! And I tried calling your office, but… It didn’t work. Do you really think I’m a spy?” she asked. “I’m not.”

“Which is exactly what a spy or a gold digger would say.” he muttered and she scoffed. “Shit. Sorry. I’m… Not myself.”

“No, you are yourself. People are only truly themself when they’re sick or drunk.” she said sadly.

He felt… He felt something. Something like shame. Something like remorse. But why now? Why around her, of all people? He barely felt anything around Bruce and he didn’t feel anything as he was treating other people like crap and he didn’t feel anything as he was blowing various gold diggers off. Why did he feel something around someone he barely knew?

“I guess I simply have to earn your trust.” she said eventually and he blinked. “Right?”

“Don’t say that.” he said faintly. “I guess… I’m just not in a good place right now. This is stress talking. Oswald Cobblepot will be with you soon.”

“In this mess? I doubt it.” she said, looking around. “Need a hand?”

“No, I’ll… I’ll manage.” he muttered, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll fix myself up, tomorrow I’ll be a new man.”

He found a last packet of cloves in one of the cabinets, and opened a bottle of vodka with his teeth. Charlie raised her eyebrows.

“Getting drunk for breakfast?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he muttered absentmindedly. “But no, I’m not trying to get drunk, I’m trying to-”

He paused and sneezed.

“I’m trying to survive.” he said finally.

She made him promise he’ll clean his home up as soon as he gets better, and stayed with him until he fell back asleep. They didn’t talk much; but he didn’t mind her presence. Her hand was pleasantly cool on his hot forehead.

She left him a note with her phone number, and she left it on a table, away from any wayward liquids. She signed it with an imprint of her lips and he smiled lightly, wondering if what happened between them the first time they met is going to happen ever again.

He wondered.

*** From what he had seen, Charlie was doing great in Gotham - she was easily making friends and she was the star of every party she attended and she was dazzling and brilliant; and she was getting a lot of his attention, far more than other members of Gotham social elite.

He promised Regina Zellerbach he’ll stay away from her; but it was a lie, not the first one he ever told and not the last one. His entire life in Gotham was one big lie; he was sure nobody would mind one more.

He felt like Bruce Wayne is directing his attention towards her. He didn’t like the possibility; he was never a jealous type - especially considering there was not even an actual relationship to speak of - but it felt… Wrong. He was the first person she met in Gotham. He knew her body.

Bruce Wayne had no right to her.

(Those possessive, territorial thoughts weren’t anything new to him; he was always like that. You become like that once you lose everything, even in regards to things you don’t even have. Even in regards to people.)

When he looked at her, he felt longing. He had everything - almost everything. He had money and influence and power; it was all his, all his.

Almost.

(He wanted to make her his, one way or another. He wanted her to want him.)

But - he kept his cool during their encounters. He was perfectly polite in public - way more polite than he ever was to anyone at Wayne Enterprises.

(He sometimes couldn’t take his eyes off her. He still felt the warmth of her blood on his lips and the smoothness of her skin under his fingers.)

In fact - he was so perfectly polite it got her some unwanted attention.

“My god.” she sighed jokingly, sitting on his couch as he was waiting for the water to start boiling. “It looks like I’m going to have to choose at some point.”

“Choose what?”

“Between you and Bruce Wayne.” she said softly, looking up at him. “Before I’m caught in the crossfire.”

“You’re your own person. I’m not going to judge you if you decide to be friends with him. Friends or… Something else.”

“Mmm, it looks like it’s a preferred result for Gotham’s general population.” she said, glancing at her phone. “People don’t take too kindly to you chatting me up.”

“Because I have a reputation of a loner. And I told a lot of people to fuck off.”

“Oh yeah, I know. That bartender… What’s his name?”

“Jacques.”

“Yes, that one! Anyway. He told me.” she said and he sighed; of course Jacques couldn’t be trusted. That gossipy prick. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at that bar.”

“Yeah, well, I like that place.” he said, opening his tea cabinet. “They import good whiskey.”

“And you’ve been drinking a lot of it… Or so I heard.” she added quickly. “You know, I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem!” he said, way more aggressive than he intended. “Can’t a man have any privacy in this city?!”

“You were right. You really are touchy.” she said, seemingly completely unbothered. “But fine. Have it your way. I’m not going to press.”

“And I appreciate it.” he said calmly, picking their teacups up and carrying them. “Really.”

Having tea with her felt… Weird. But also right; just her presence in his home felt right, like this was the way things were supposed to be; and he was almost sad when she had to go.

“I can… Give you a lift.” he offered. “You’re still staying at the Peak, right?”

“Mmmm-hm.” she nodded, putting her coat on and fixing its collar, looking at her reflection in the mirror; he looked away, not wanting her to notice he’s been tracking her every movement. “Well, I… Would really prefer you over some random cab driver.”

“Sure.” he said, getting up and running his fingers through his hair.

“You know, Salvatore invited me over for dinner the other day.” she said as they were in the brightly lit, spacious elevator. “Can you guess where am I going?”

“...oh my god.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” she nodded. “It was… Awkward. He doesn’t know, right?”

“Well, that was the one thing I promised him to never do.” he sighed, glancing at her. “And I did clean up our mess.”

(When they first met, they had sex in Maroni’s home. He was homeless and crashing in his guest bedroom back then, and she was staying at one of Gotham’s cheap motels; old times. Simpler times.)

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite some time now.” she said, as they were walking through the garage. “Do you think it’s going to happen again?”

“What do you mean?” he muttered, fishing for his keys in his pocket; she scoffed.

“It’s an elephant in the room, Oswald. A massive fucking elephant - with emphasis on the word fucking.” she said, sliding into a backseat, as he held the door open for her.

He took the driver’s seat, adjusted the rear mirror slightly and looked at her reflection; she was smiling playfully and this smile made his heart ache and he felt longing, longing, longing.

“Depends.” he said finally; and in his mind, last pieces of this peculiar puzzle fell into place; he wanted her. He wanted something again. He had his damn bunny to catch again.

(All the fun was in the chase.)

“Depends on what?”

“On you, mostly.” he said calmly, as they were driving. “Do you want it to happen again?”

“Oh, are we going to be playing cat and mouse?” she asked playfully, and giggled. “Alright, I’m game. Meow!”

He laughed in response, his mind drifting back to Selina Kyle, a thief he hired to get him material proof of what happened to his family; and she delivered, and they parted ways. For a brief time - while she was still there - Oswald considered having a fling; miss Kyle was as beautiful as her name, melodious and soft like velvet. Or silk. He could never tell the difference between those two.

“Well, we’re here.” he said, after parking in front of Peak’s front, brightly lit entrance.

“Be a gentleman.” she whispered as he was helping her get out of the car, her hand in his, the storm of her red hair passing few inches from his face, smelling of petrichor and bubblegum. “Walk me to my apartment.”

“As you wish.”

She kissed him in the elevator; one moment they were standing next to each other, his hands in his pockets, and the next moment she was pulling him in, tightly grasping the fabric of his (custom made, hand-fitted) jacket, her lips on his.

She pulled away as soon as he put a hand on her back.

“You look good in a suit.” she said, her cheeks flushed and he felt alive, like he was living a cliche, but a very pleasant one. “Almost as good as you do in that god awful coat.”

“I still have it.” he said; the elevator dinged and the door opened and they entered the empty corridor.

(Suddenly he had a deja vu, despite never before setting a foot in that hotel.)

“And do you also have that mask?” she asked lightly and he tensed up immediately.

Right. The mask. The memento of who he used to be; a piece of equipment, carrying the memories of box matches and arms dealing and spilled blood. Memories of his old life - his old life nobody knew about.

(Memories of truth.)

“Don’t worry, I never told anyone.” she said quietly, seeing his reaction. “Your secrets are safe with me… Oz.”

She called him that almost hesitantly and for a moment he didn’t know where and when and who he is; it’s been months since anyone called him that.

(She called him that when she wanted him to shut up and kiss her.)

So he did just that - he leaned in and kissed her and initially she gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his hair, her back against the door to her apartment, his hands on her back.

She pushed him away, eventually.

“No.” she said, breathing heavily. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” he asked huskily, his lips burning from her, his heart focused on a new goal, on a new chase.

“Because I changed my mind.” she said, as he let her go and stepped back, fixing his tie. “Go home tonight, Oswald. We have plenty of time.”

He went home - and left after few minutes, after changing out of his expensive, custom-made clothes into the cheap rags he used to wear back when he was still just a broke, vengeful nobody.

(He still had that shirt she stained with her lipstick. He never got it out; a small stain, right next to the neckline.)

He ended up in the seedy part of town, where one wrong look could cost him his life. He provoked. He taunted.

And he got what he wanted, what he craved so badly; the adrenaline kick, bloodied knuckles, bruises.

(She pushed him away suddenly and he thought back to that time he saw her giggling with Bruce Wayne and their smiles paled as they noticed him; Bruce Wayne had no right to her, but neither did he.)

As his fist clashed against drunk man’s jaw, Oswald gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that - despite the waves of familiar feelings washing over him - there will be no consequences. The thrill was only temporary; this was nothing, compared to his old life.

All was his, all was his - almost.

(And yet he felt as if he still has nothing to his name, nothing but old shame.)

He saw her face as he pummeled the unfortunate, nameless man into the ground, he saw her face and her neck and her hair; and her fingers, pulling someone else’s hair.

He went back home, where his punching bag was and he stayed up all night, angry, confused, lost; his emotions were mixing, overflowing, as if something broke inside of him, a dam of sorts. He felt same way he did when he first started planning his revenge, all those months ago. He felt a lot of things - some of them good.

New chase was beginning. New goal was forming. New unachievable was dawning on the horizon.

He drank himself to sleep the next morning, not bothering to let anyone know he won’t make it to the office that day. It didn’t matter anymore; he didn’t care.

In his dreams, there was no void in his life. In his dreams, he filled the emptiness.

In his dreams he got what he wanted.

[templarhalo]

Roman Fempercy AU

I’ll probably write a fic for this. Oh who am I kidding, I wrote a fic for this and turned it into a 40k crossover fanfiction involving a Deathwatch Kill-team and now I’ll never get to that third Chapter of Endryd Haar: The Riven Hound for @sisterofsilence or Simple Souls.

Anyway here it goes.

Fempercy’s name is Persephone. Real original, I know, but Sally thought it sounded better than Prosperina.   Persephone is also lesbian. 

Speaking of Sally, she’s like a Roman Matron. Not even Juno can find something to criticize her about and Venus is jealous of her looks. If the Empire was still around she’d be Empress.

Her life and time at Yancy Academy follow Canon. But Chrion and Grover have an “Oh shit we’re screwed.” moment when they’re looking at Persephone’s grades. When it comes to translating Greek, she’s a D-. Latin translatians  an A+. She always uses the Roman names when they discuss mythology in class. Plus she smiles even more when Chiron shows off his Roman legionare equipment.

Chiron actually starts cussing out Neptune. He says more cursewords that day then he has in centuries.

A child of Posidon would be bad enough, but a child of Neptune? In New York? At Camp Half-Blood’s doorstep? Does he want Chiron to retire early?

Anyway The Lightning thief happens as canon. With a few changes.

Persephone feels really isolated and unwelcome at Camp Half-Blood. She has nightmares about the campers killing her and even has a panic attack during archery practice.

Her only friends are Annabeth and Grocer. She’s uneasy around Annabeth because the idea of Minerva breaking her vow of maidenhood even if she’s technically not doing via actual sex is weird.  She actually meets Hestia and she really listens to Persephone and accepts her.

Ares actually appears as Mars to Persephone after they fight and congratulates her on beating him as Ares.

After they return the Master Bolt, Persephone has to swear an oath on the Styx to never reveal the existence of Greek demigods.

Grover and Annabeth have to swear an oath to never reveal the existence of Roman demigods.

After they  return to  Camp Half-Blood and celebrate, Persephone leaves a few days later.  Officially it’s because she’s returning home early to spend some time with her mother.  Which  is actually true.   She and Annabeth promise to Iris message each other.  Persephone and Sally spend some time in the cabin Montauk.  Neptune actually briefly visits.  Some family bonding time.   Neptune has some Cyclops make her and Sally some very nice jewelry and a very nice Pugio for Persephone.  Persephone gets a tour of Neptune’s palace.  Triton told himself he was going to make a conscious effort to dislike her, but actually ends up liking her.

Lupa’s wolves show up at the Montauk cabin on their last day there.  Hugs are exchanged and than it’s off to the Wolf House.

Lupa has a lot of fun training Persephone.  Persephone has a lot of fun training with Lupa.  Persephone’s panic attacks and nightmares stop.   Persephone ends up terrorizing the wolves and some of them even beg Lupa to  send her off to Camp Jupiter early because she’s adapted so well there.

Lupa actually keeps her for a day longer then she intended to.  She doesn’t tell  Persephone this, but she’s one of the best Roman demigods she’s trained since Jason Grace and Romulus and Remus.

During her trip to  Camp Jupiter the other two gorgons show up.  She kills them just like Percy did in  the Son of Neptune. 

Arriving at Camp Jupiter is like coming home for Persephone.  She meets Jason and they  hit it off.  Persephone is a little upset that she can’t tell him Thalia’s fate because of her oath on the Styx.   Persephone becomes Jason’s Optio in the Fifth Cohort.  She pisses off Octavian, chats with the Lars and Terminus, spars with Jason and kicks his ass 55% percent of the time and becomes pretty well-respected in Camp Jupiter.  Camp is a paradise for her.  She feels a sense of belonging she’s never felt before.  She and Jason  are like siblings,  and Jason confides in her some of his doubts and the pressure he’s under as a Son of Jupiter.

Meanwhile, Luke betrayed the camp and the events of the Sea of Monsters happens.

Percy actually meets Tyson during a visit to  her father’s palace.  Tyson makes her a cool collapsible Roman shield for her and reforges some damaged Imperial Gold weapons she and Jason recovered on a quest.

About a week after the Sea of Monsters, she begins having dreams about Heracles and what went down in the Garden of the Hesperides.  About two days later the Hunters of Artemis show up at Camp Jupiter to  rest and resupply.  Persephone meets Zoe Nightshade and they talk.  Persephone mentions her dreams and offers to return Riptide to  her.  Zoe refuses and tells her to keep it. 

Before they leave, Zoe and Diana lay on the sales pitch thick to  try and convince Persephone to  join  the Hunters.

At first, they think, she’s refusing because she and Jason are dating, but Persephone tells them that she and Jason are not dating because she’s lesbian and she and Jason are friends.  Very close friends, but just friends.  Persephone actually snaps at them and tells them they  don’t know a damn thing about Jason.  That’s he’s a better hero than Heracles and that apart from her and Juno, his patron, she’s his only real friend and she’s not going to abandon him.  Zoe and Diana actually apologize and Zoe and Diana depart on good terms with Persephone. 

After the Titan’s Curse, she get’s a tearful iris message from Annabeth about what happened.  Persephone is crying herself and really wants to  tell Jason his sister is alive and is now Diana’s Lieutenant. 

It’s a good thing Persephone didn’t join  the Hunters because soon  after they leave, Reyna shows up at camp.

And damn  Persephone is crushing hard.   She’s nervously asking Jason what she should do and Jason is like “I don’t know I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

Persephone does a lot of praying and offering to  the Olympians, talks to Vesta when she visits and even considers asking Octavian to  do his augur thing and see if Reyna is in  her future.

Reyna is doing the same thing.  She and Persephone have built up a solid friendship and she’s kind of realizing she’s Bi and wishing Hylla or her mother was around to give her advice.

Then the mission to  retrieve those Imperial Gold Torpedo’s from the CSS Hunley in Charleston happens.  The air between Reyna and Persephone is a little thick and Jason is hoping the two confess ftheir feelings for each other because sick  of his two best friends tiptoeing around each other. 

During the quest, Jason is separated from Reyna and Persephone.

The two actually are about to confess their feelings for one another when Venus shows up and lays on  the whole “No demigod shall heal your heart.” speech.

And both of them flat out refuse and confess their feeling for each  other.   They tell Venus to piss off.  Venus relents but warns Reyna that her fate will be passed onto another.

The two meet back up with Jason and tell Jason what happened.  Jason is happy for them, but he’s praying to Jupiter for Venus to not screw things up for his friends.

After the quest preparations for the war against Saturn are made.  Annabeth is informed of the events of The Battle of the Labyrinth via Iris message.  Persephone, Jason  and Reyna are jokingly referred to  as the Triumvirate

When Jason and Reyna become Praetors, everyone expects Persephone to  take Jason’s place as Centurion of the Fifth.  Instead she hand Gwen the vine cane and is promoted to Tribune.   As a Tribune, she serves as an official  advisor to the Praetor’s, assists in  the day to day running of the legion  and should a cohort or two be deployed and a Praetor be unavailable, assume direct command.  Octavian  complains  saying it was an abuse of power,  but most legionaries didn’t give a damn.  

There were a couple dates.   A sharing of Jelly beans and  kisses.  Hands held when they thought no one was looking during senate meetings. 

Meanwhile, the Olympian’s are debating on the Great Prophecy.  Typhon has been awakened,   Thalia’s joined the Hunters, and Persephone is at Camp Jupiter.  Zeus suggests they bring her back  to Camp Half-Blood .

Neptune, Vesta and Juno all put their foot down.  

Neptune because he doesn’t want his daughter anywhere near Camp Half-Blood.  Vesta told him what Persephone had to  deal with at Camp Half- Blood, how isolated  and uneasy she felt there.

Juno was not going to have her champion/adopted son’s best friend disappear right before they Legion’s assault on Mount Orthyrs.  It would demoralize him.  It’s not because she actually cares for the girl. Nope no Sirree. She still hates demigods and her husband’s bastard children.

Anyway the Legion attacks Mount Orthrys. 

It goes pretty well.

Jason and Persephone make a huge hurricane and Reyna lends her strength ot the legion, they tear there way through the Titan army ranks, It’s a bitter battle, the Legion is relentless, there’s no turning back.  Better to strike now than wait for the Titan Lord’s army to encircle Camp Jupiter. 

Any way at the end , Jason kills Krios, Saturn’s throne crumbles to dust and the enemy is routed. 

Than Saturn himself shows up.

He’s lost his host body, his scythe, his throne and taking a huge beating from the Olympians.  His body is riddled with arrows from  Artemis and Apollo, burned by Hestia and Hephestaeus and he took a Lightening Bolt.

But he’s still not dead, and he could kill most of the Legion before he is finally defeated.

Jason is exhausted and semiconscious after curb stomping Krios.

Reyna has given most of here strength to the legion.

Most of legion is bloodied, but unbowed.  There’s no way they can kill Saturn, they can only prolong their own deaths and buy time for the Olympians show up.

So Persephone challenges him.

She summons the power of the sea and takes on Saturn herself.

With a little strength lended from Reyna, she sends Saturn screaming back to  Tartarus.

When the Olympians show up, Persephone is on her knees, Riptide still clutched in her hand, bleeding from at least a half a dozen wounds.

After, the Greek demigods receive their awards, Persephone, Reyna and Jason are ushered into Olympus.

Persephone is offered immortality.

She refuses.

She makes,the gods swear on the Styx to claim their children by 13 and to pardon all the traitor demigods and titans and minor gods.

After that.  There’s some peace and quiet, and things go back  to normal at Camp Jupiter.

Than Jason disappears and contact with Olympus has been cut off.

[5hfanfiction]

Green Is The Warmest Color - Chapter 24

XXIV.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/66624703-green-is-the-warmest-color-camren-fanfic

“It’s Lauren, isn’t it?” Austin’s voice seems like an echo from afar. My eyes focus on his shirt, on his shaky hands that seem to settle themselves on his knees, on the bench near the end of the street under the lone tree. My eyes focus on everywhere but his face; specifically his eyes. “I used to believe that it’s her… but somewhere in my mind says no. It’s impossible. S-she can’t be…  she can’t be the one I’m g-going to compete with.” He shakes his head like this is all a dream, that all this talk isn’t happening and it’s time for my eyes to focus on his.

I put my hand on top of his. “A-austin.” I say rather nervous and questioning.

“No it’s okay!” He announces too sudden. “I don’t care. I won’t label you. People will tell you’re gay or lesbian and all but I don’t care. I don’t care Camila… you can like whoever you want to like.” I want to hug him; I want to tell him no, this is not okay. This isn’t all okay because I don’t know what I truly feel too. I’m confused and it’s not okay.

I found my voice. “I d-don’t like… I don’t like her.” I sigh heavily after telling him. He looks at me surprised and curious, he has a lot of questions, he can throw them all to my face. He deserves it. I dragged him along into this mess and there’s no way I’m not the one to blame. “It’s c-complicated.” I add.

He smiles and his gaze falls upon my phone that’s trapped in my hand. “You can tell me. I’m your friend Camila. I won’t judge you. I liked you then and I promise I still like you now. There’s nothing that can change that.” I can feel tears welling upon my eyes and I look away from him. The way he says things feels like an assurance and it’s never felt so good before. “It’s okay for girls to like girls. You can control your feelings yes, but you can’t choose the person your heart will beat for. Just like me and you. My heart chose you and even you can’t feel the same, my heart still beats for you. Funny isn’t it?” He stops abruptly on tapping and making sure he’s comforting me with a hand on my back and tilts my chin up so I’m straightly looking at him. “Your phone says it all. Reminds me that I should apologize, but curiosity got the best of me.” He chuckles and this time I don’t try to stop myself. I embrace my arms around him as I feel the familiar warmth of friendship.

“The way you look at her is unexplainable; you look at her like she’s not just a precious gem. You look at her in full awe like she’s priceless and she’s the most amazing person on earth.” Austin explains while I bury my neck on his to keep my head low and the tears that are streaming down from my eyes. “It makes me feel jealous. The way you look at her is the way I look at you and you don’t know how many times I’ve wished for you to look at me that way.” He says in between bitter laughter. “I like you so much I’m letting you go.” He remains his trembling hands placed around my back, caressing it like I’m the one who’s in pain and not him. He lets go of our hug and he hands me his handkerchief to wipe the tears away from my eyes. “Don’t cry so much I feel bad.” I laugh at his remark on being humorous.

My phone has a secret folder that contains all the pictures I took of Lauren when she wasn’t staring at me, or when she was totally unaware of her surroundings. There was a picture of her laughing with our group of friends which consists of Dinah, Ally and Normani. There was also a picture of her buying us coffee and sandwiches at the cafeteria. My favorite picture of her was when she was reading a book while her earphones are stuck in her ears. It was like she was into the music as much as she was into the words engraved in the book. There was also a picture of her sleeping around the corner in the library, as much as I would like to be lost into her green eyes, she looked such a puppy. I didn’t even know it was happening and slowly turning into a habit until I noticed that the folder already almost reached a hundred candid and stolen shots of her. Whenever I took a picture of her, it secretly made me smile and warmed my heart. I also made sure that no one was around to see what I was doing especially one of our friends because I wasn’t ready. I don’t know what I wasn’t ready for but tonight, Austin made sure I realized what it was and what it always has been.

“Did you ever take a stolen shot of me before? I mean- have you even tried?” When I furrow my eyebrows at confusion and scrunches my nose, he laughs almost too genuinely. “I’m just kidding! It’s just sweet Camila and I don’t even want to go to the notes part.”

There was also a secret folder in the notes that contains the things I want to say to Lauren but I can’t. Whenever I took a photo of her, I would go to the notes in my phone and type some words to explain how I felt at the moment capturing her secretly once again. It was random really, I didn’t know I was doing it but my heart felt like it and my mind seemed to agree with it. At first it was just an idea- a really bad and foolish idea- but I went with it anyway because once again, it made me smile and my heart was happy. I would type words, just random words I could. There was a lot, it wasn’t even that organized I just magically transformed my feelings into words.

You’re beautiful when you sleep and when you wake up I hope I’m still here to witness your eyes wandering.

The way your eyes get in sync with your lips when you smile. It’s amazing to look at. I’m enjoying the view.

You’re reading a book today, probably a romance one because you’re a hopeless romantic.

Your laugh is contagious and as much as I want to laugh with you, I’m from afar and you can’t see me laughing with you.

You’re awfully grumpy today. It’s cute.

You nudged a random girl’s shoulder because she stole your place in the line. It’s okay I can always wait.

God, you look so beautiful from here.

My heart beats rapidly when you’re near that’s why I don’t trust myself when you’re alone with me.

“God, you look so beautiful from here.” Austin says seemingly amused while his eyes are focused on mine. “You’re awfully grumpy today. It’s cute.” It’s when I realized he’s mimicking the words I typed in my notes. “Who thinks you are one hell of a romantic?”

I nudge his shoulder playfully. “You must’ve read and seen it all!” I cover my face with my bare hands acting shyly at him for his newfound knowledge about how I feel about Lauren. What do I really feel about Lauren? “God Austin! I wish you can just return my phone to me without checking it thoroughly! I’ll be extra careful next time.”

“I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t laugh when I read them.” I send him a death glare. “But I’d be lying too if I didn’t wish that it was me you’re actually referring to.” He exchanges a sad smile. “I wish I’d known you know? I wish I knew that there’s something up between you and Lauren. I wish I’d prepared myself.”

“Austin I’m s-sorry.” The air around us suddenly became thick and our exchanging glances became more serious. “I wish I can feel the same way you know? I wish I can reciprocate your feelings for me… I’m telling you if I could, I would.” A sad smile appears on my face. “You’re a nice guy Austin. You deserve someone who can love you fully, without a doubt.”

He sighs and stares at the same direction I’ve been staring. “It’s getting out of hand how people fall in love with someone they can’t have. But it’s okay Camila. It’s enough for me that you think of me as a nice guy who deserves someone worth it. It’s enough for me now and I’m grateful I’m the person you chose to ask help from.” He’s talking about my wonderful plan that I’m slowly regretting now. He should’ve felt this and he shouldn’t have liked me more. He doesn’t deserve this as much as I don’t deserve him.

Before I even respond to him, a shadow from behind appears and a voice is heard. “Camz!”

“There’s your princess, sweetie.” Austin smiles at me genuinely. “I think I’ll get going now. Don’t wanna interrupt your lone time with the person you love the most.” He keeps on teasing me when he notices my discomfort. I still didn’t try to look at the person whose shadow is getting near in our place. “Tell me if our plan is already off by the way.”

I hug him once more, this time tighter and full of gratefulness. “I can never thank you enough, Austin.” I say almost above the whisper into his ear. “You’re amazing too okay? Don’t let other people tell you otherwise.” I pull away from the hug, turning my head slightly and meeting the green eyes which don’t look so happy.

“I’ll go now. See you tomorrow Camila.” I wave at Austin bidding another goodbye to him and this time I don’t feel like it still seems a beginning to him and I regret that I’m contributing to the pain he’s feeling. I watch as Austin hops in his car and the engine of the car starts and I still watch it as it slowly fades away like thin smoke in the air.

Lauren grabs ahold of my left hand. “He’s lucky you like him Camz.” It’s funny how Austin also told me that in just a few minutes ago. It’s funny how people tell me that someone is lucky because I like them. It’s funny how they think I’m so much worth it of something when I don’t think of myself that way. “What did you two talk about? What took you so long?”

“N-nothing. Just… stuff… we used to talk about.” I answer her not totally facing her. I’m afraid to meet her gaze again. I’m afraid to share my eyes into her own. I’m afraid about so many things that I wasn’t afraid before. I’m afraid of so much uncertainty about my feelings and it still felt like yesterday when I used to not care. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m checking on you. I thought you guys broke up or something. Good you’re both still okay. Y-you’re okay right?” Oh yes we’re okay but this is not okay. The way I feel about you is not okay. I wish it’s always been simple though. I wish it won’t have to change anything but it will and I’m afraid that it will change everything. “I’m glad he makes you happy Camz but no offense. Why does it look like you guys actually just broke up? You look so- I don’t know- distraught?” She says examining me from behind.

I laugh, not wanting for it to sound weak and bitter. “I’m fine Lauren. We should get inside.” I remain avoiding her gaze. I’m pretty much doing a good job on not staring at her. I can’t really identify if she doesn’t notice it or she’s disturbed with it. I can’t really look at her at this moment. It’s not good and it’s not okay. I start walking away not waiting for her to catch up, I try my best to get away from her as fast as I can.

“Camz wait up!” I can feel Lauren’s steps getting heavier as she jogs chasing after me when I start running away from her. “Camz what the hell!” I don’t listen. I can’t listen. Run away, Camz. Run faster than you can. After all, that’s what you’re good at. Running away from your problems because you’re nothing but a weakling. The voice in my head starts creeping up on me again. I used to scare them away but now they’re the one that scare me the most and when I thought I could get away from them, I can’t. I listened to the voice in my head and ran much faster. I can’t even look anywhere but the tree on the end of the street. I don’t mind running away and somehow the voice in my head outran Lauren’s screams of wanting me to stop running away. My vision starts getting blurry. I can’t recognize if it’s the sweat or the tears. What I’m only sure of is there is a car coming my way. There’s a car going its way to me and the car honks repeatedly and the light coming from the car blinds my eyes. I stopped running away and for the first time I thought I couldn’t be more afraid.

I closed my eyes.

You don’t really know how you’d die. The last thing you’d think about before your death is telling someone you love them. You can’t stop it from happening though. Everything in the world is already planned; you can’t cheat on having them your way. It just happens and whatever you think about it changing, it won’t. You just have to be more careful and more accepting that even though things can be bad, there’s still good in every piece of it.

A sudden rush of arms embraced me into an enormous tight hug and threw me away to the side as the car swerved off the road, turning away from its original route to avoid my presence. The car kept going away, didn’t mind to halt and care about the presence of two people at the side.

“U-uuggghhh.” I grunt as I try to blink rapidly, still in shock.

Lauren’s arms hurriedly embraced me once again. “Fucking God Camz don’t you dare pull that act on me again!” She doesn’t let go of our hug; her embrace gives warmth to my body as I close my eyes once again desperately wanting for the feeling not to end. “You s-scared me! The c-car….. the car… it… f-fuck! It almost f-fucking hit you!” Lauren’s tears wet the side of my neck as she buries her face on it. I can’t feel my hands to hug her back. I can’t feel my hands like they’re not mine anymore. I can’t feel my body properly functioning. I only feel her body offering me warmth and comfort and although my eyes are still closed, I can see the light coming from her eyes. “W-what happened? What the f-fuck… what happened?!” She bombards me with questions about the way I acted.

“It’s o-okay.” I say my eyes still closed trying to stop the betrayal of tears coming once again.

“Don’t fucking tell me it’s okay and try to run away again! D-don’t… F-fuck Camz! You’re not okay! This is not okay! You a-almost got hit by t-that car…. You almost got fucking… I can’t this is… f-fuck!” I wanted to say I’m sorry but instead my eyes betrayed me and tears come streaming down once again. Lauren felt it. Lauren feels it from her shoulder. She slowly lets go of the hug and even with my blurry vision, I still can manage to see those eyes piercing into mine. “Why are you crying? What did he do to you?” She asks in a comforting and weak tone.

I shake my head repeatedly. I wanted to say something but I can’t. I wanted to tell her that nothing happened. He didn’t do something and it’s the other way around. I’m the one who hurt Austin and I’m the reason why my life is a complete mess. But I can’t tell her. I can’t tell her how I feel about her. Everything will change and I’m afraid of it. You’ve always been so afraid, Camila. You’re nothing. Lauren’s sweaty palms cup my face and tilt my chin up to look at her. I shake my head once again. I keep on shaking my head that it startles her.

“Please Camz tell me what happened. I’ll help you. It will be okay. It’s going to be okay.” I wanted to believe in that. I wanted to believe that it’s going to be okay. But it never happens. It’s a wishful thinking that things will be okay. Nothing ever gets to be okay when they’re already messed up. Every broken thing can’t be fixed, they only get broken once more. “Camz you trust me right? You can always trust me. Tell me please. Say something please. Tell me what he did to you. Did he hurt you?”

After the words left her mouth, I realized I’m done.

“Why do you guys always think that I’m the one who’s hurt?! That I’m the fucking victim in all of this?!” I blurt out almost screaming and it alarms Lauren that the worry can be vividly seen from her eyes. “I fucking dragged you along into this mess. This shouldn’t have happened if I didn’t let it happen. Now Austin…… I’m f-fu….. I hurt…. h-him. I know I know I hurt … and he’s s-still hurting. He’s a g-good friend. He’s… he’s a-always been.” Lauren is worried and confused at the same time by the way her eyes plead for me to continue. “He likes me. H-he told me… he likes me!”

“But you’re in a relationship. You’re supposed to like each other, Camz.” Lauren tells me; her voice is curious and still puzzled. That’s true but we’re not in a relationship. We never have been. I’m just a selfish bitch who lets him get hurt in the process while I burden myself with my feelings. “I’m c-confused Camz.”

I shake my head attempting to stand up and leave Lauren alone again. “I c-can’t…. I can’t do this right now….” Lauren held my hand carefully not wanting to let go. “L-let go of me. You don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand Camz!” Lauren is furious now steadying her gaze on me. “You confuse me all the time and I think it’s fair for the both of us if you just explain and make me understand!”

“It’s b-because I like you s-shit!” I uttered in an adrenaline rush and it made Lauren shut up. She’s just staring at me with her mouth gaped and if only I could take it back, I would. But there’s no stopping now and there’s no going back. “Shit…” I curse again in a softer tone. “I l-like you. I like you….I like you…” And just like that it starts raining; probably the clouds’ attempt to comfort me by hiding my tears and getting it mistaken for the rain. “My h-heart still chooses you after all this time. But… I c-can’t. I’m stop… I’m stopping m-myself to l-like you because I can’t. I’m afraid that e-everything will change… because it will. I know it will.”

Footsteps from around the corner are heard and it made me stop from talking. “Camila? Lauren? What the hell didn’t you guys notice it’s already raining?!” The voice’s owner is Dinah and she’s with Normani and Ally with their own umbrellas to cover us.

“You’re both gonna get sick! Jesus!” Normani exclaims and quickly cover Lauren with her umbrella. Dinah is covering me with her own umbrella while Ally stays at the side watching us. Lauren remains staring at me, no movement coming from her and Normani suddenly gets worried. “Lauren, are you okay?” She asks as she nudges her right shoulder.

Surprisingly Lauren nods and looks away from me. No, look at me! Tell me you hate me for having actual feelings for you. Tell them how you hate me! I almost wanted to shout at her but I didn’t want to make a scene.

“What are you guys doing here anyway?” Ally’s turn to ask watching us suspiciously once again. “We’ve been waiting for you in ages and we thought you got involved in an accident or something.” Funny how it almost happened.

I was about to answer noticing Lauren’s silence and uneasiness when she spoke up, not looking at me. “I found Camila sitting there.” She points to the place where I confessed my feelings and practically begged for my heart to stop feeling the way about her. “I t-think she had a fight with Austin. But she’s okay now. It’s o-okay now.”

She’s lying. You’re lying, Lauren. Tell them the truth because you know I can’t!

“Reminds me that I have to go somewhere! Gonna catch up with you guys tomorrow!” She laughs weakly and waves at us, before running away without a single umbrella in hand.

Normani is shocked at the sudden act and screamed for her name. “Lauren! Lauren! Come back here dammit!” My vision is getting blurry but there are no rain falling from above because there’s already an umbrella covering me. “That idiot doesn’t even realize she doesn’t have an umbrella. What the hell!”

It’s tears, Camila. It’s tears because you’re weak. I watched Lauren ran away until she faded like thin smoke from a lit cigarette in the air and I wonder when I would hear her calling me Camz again. 

[throwawayaccountbcitsobviou-blog]

I hate K. Winters

Throw away account since it will be obvious why soon enough.   I just have to vent about this woman.  She is the fucking worst.  I’m going to be as vague as possible for obvious reasons.  You’ll know who I’m talking about, I’m sure, if you know who she is from online.

i hate her.  Why?  let me write you a book.

I actually had no idea she was on youtube until very recently, though it doesn’t shock me.  It’s what pushed me to write this.

1.)If she finds you on social media, she will stalk it to find anything she deems offensive.  No fucking joke.

 She will screen shot any and everything you say, if she thinks it’s offensive and send it to your supervisor.  

Had a guy get written up for making a joke about beating his girlfriend (he was referring to them playing a  video game, I thiiink it was SSB) it was an obvious joke about the fighting game, it had a screen shot of the game and everything.  I haven’t seen him recently so he may have been fired or quit.

2.) . She thinks she’s the boss of everyone regardless of where you are in the building.

Apparently, you have to have written permission slips from your supervisor if she sees you on your phone or smoking anywhere deemed a break area.  Had her ask my coworkers if they were on break and how long were they on break and does *** know they’re down there?  How about mind your business.

3.) She smells like a wet, moldy towel left on the bottom of the hamper.

Okay, this is a petty one but it really is that pungent.  I hate having to deal with her cause it’s a consistent thing. No one wants to deal with her because of it.  Also, she has old person farts that she has no issue ripping quietly while youre at her desk.  It’s like, I’m not stupid, I have a nose.  My Oma is 94 and lives on a diet of fish and aged  cheese and her odor is not as bad as that!

4.) . She treats cute, young ladies here badly

If youre young, attractive or flirty she will zero in on you.  She will make snarky comments about you.  Look down her nose like she’s somehow superior.  I realize it’s a bitter thing, she’s not exactly an attractive woman but there’s no need to shit talk just because you’re jealous of their looks.  Been a couple times I found myself stuck small talking with her where she only talks about *** and she’s just a dumb stereotype and how did she get this job etc etc..

5.) Two of my coworkers tried to convince her not to go to a party the company was having.

No one and I mean no one there likes her.  We had a party and two people I know tried to nudge her into not going.  She mentioned something else was on the same day and they tried to get her to go to that other thing.  We wanted just one party where her smelly ass didn’t cast judgmental looks or make back handed compliments to people.  WE ended up leaving soon after she showed up and headed to a pub.

6.) . She’s on her phone on social media all day, so shes’s basically being paid to play on her phone.

Every time I see her, her face is in her phone.  No, it’s not work.  Trust me on this.

7.) . She’ll talk with authority bout everything and if you prove her wrong or tell her she’s wrong she’ll never correct herself.

One of the very first conversations I had with her involved something I hold 2 degrees in and her zero.  Instead of admitting wrong, she still acted like I had no idea what I was talking about, pretended like she was getting a phone call on her cell and excused herself.  I knew I didn’t like her after that.

8.) . She thinks since she has a DR. in front of her name, you are below her and clearly she is the superior one.

I’ve lost track of the number of times she’d talk with authority about a law or something in the news that’s completely false, but always doubles down.  Bonus points if she tells you VOX is a reputable news outlet.  Bitch, you’re a doctor you should know better.

9.) She’s been caught stealing food from the fridge.

I heard this second hand, so it may not be true but given her size, I wouldn’t be surprised.

10.) . Speaking of food, her diet is awful.

Yes, she’s one of those people that brings in smelly foods that stink up a whole floor/wing/department.  Unhealthy shit to boot, yet still sneers at the thin lady eating a salad minding her own business.

11.) . She talks to parents about her dog in *that way*

raising a kid and owning a puppers isn’t the same thing.  Stop acting like it is.

12.) . She ‘corrected’ a coworker who is an ex-muslim about his own personal experience.

I don’t know how the topic came up (I wasn’t there), but they were talking about Islam and he expressed he left the faith for some reasons and was tired/scared  of his extremist family and that’s why he moved to this country.  She interrupted him multiple times to correct him with ‘not all muslim people are bad/extremists/religious nuts’ well, no shit not all muslims are that way, that’s just a stupid thing to think.  Why are you telling an ex-muslim man how he should think about his (old) religion?

13.) . Told a lesbian she doesn’t understand the struggles non-white LGBTQ youth go through.

Granted, I don’t think K knows she’s a lesbian or Spanish (she’s fair skinned and doesn’t really talk about it), but nothing like a white woman telling a Spanish lesbian about how she couldn’t know the struggles of poc lgbtq folks.

14.) Told a woman wearing a korean traditional dress on halloween was inappropriate.  (Heard from trustworthy coworker)

((Okay, so I have to preface this next one with this: This girl is Blue eyed and blonde....however, she is, in fact part Korean.  Her mother is a blue eyed, blonde haired and her father is half white/half Korean. (and before you ask, yes she is his child.  She looks exactly like him and even has his very distinctive eyebrows/eye brow ridge) Her grandmother, who is 100% Korean, sent her the dress for her Bday. She was excited and wanted to wear it, but waited until halloween so it wouldn’t be odd showing up in a very poof-y dress.))

the girl apparently cried in the bathroom because if it.  God forbid this girl not look like what K thinks a Korean lass should look like.

15.) . She will OBSESS over people.

If she hates you, if she likes you.  It’s insanity.  I overheard her talking to someone about this man who was bullying her online constantly and my thought was she more than likely started it. She does it all the time here, start something, the person defends themselves then suddenly she’s the victim.  Did a little research into her twitter and, yeah, she does that shit in person and online.  Go figure.

16.) She is literally the person who will go out of their way to be offended by everything.

If above doesn’t make that obvious enough.  She asked a coworker what his thoughts on Trump are, then immediately unloaded on him how awful the US president is, how he could dare not have the same opinion as her, then stomped off.  The guy just said he had no opinion on him since he’s not American and he doesn’t keep up with their politics. what a Nazi, amirite..

16.) She once claimed she spoke 3 languages.

When confronted by a native speaker, she back peddled and said she was still learning.  Why lie about that, especially here?  There’s literally people from all over the world here.  I hear languages from all over walking down the hall.

17.) She tries sooooo hard to be hip and cool.

She dresses twenty years younger than she should (I think she’s in her early 50′s, dresses like she’s 25) . Low cut shirts, which come on..if you’re top heavy and they drip down that low, at least wear a supportive bra.  It’s just uncomfortable for everyone involved and you know it.

She tries to show how cool she is by watching shows/talking young, then butting her way into conversations.  Look, I’m aware she is lonely and she only has like one actual friend this entire country, but just because you hear us talking about Rick and Morty or Rifftrax or the IT crowd doesn’t give you the okay to just shove your opinion into the conversation.  It’s rude and presumptuous that we’d want to talk to you.  I know this makes us sound like assholes, but she really is unbearable to be around sometimes.

18.) I think She picks her nose when no one can see her.

I happen to come around the corner with my sup, she was coming the other way.  The hallway was empty, so I guess she assumed it was safe to go mining.  My sup and I just looked at each other and kept walking.  She played it off like she was scratching her nose...she wasn’t.  That’s the action of someone who does that shit on the regular.

19.) . She talks down to and is condescending to everyone.

She treats a lot of people, even those who hold equal degrees to hers, like they’re lesser than her.  A super hot guy she does this to is also a doctor, but he went to a waaaay better college than her.  He’s nice to everyone, she doesn’t like him.  My buddy thinks she has the hots for him, but he is way out of her league, so she talks to him like he’s an idiot to make her feel better about herself.  I think it’s because the doctorate he holds isn’t worthless.  seriously, though.  He’s fucking hot.

20.) She got drunk at a party once and complained about some dude we didn’t know who she didn’t like, like any of us gave a shit.  

I wish I was joking.  We told her to just block him and ignore it or just walk away from the internet for a while.  I mean, we’re adults not 15 y/o girls sending caddy messages to one another.  Internet drama is a pathetic thing for an old woman to get wrapped up in.   She then left to, what I thought, snapchat or face time someone.  We could see her talking into her phone with it out in front of her (she was drunk so god knows who the poor unfortunate soul was on the other end) then came back to let us know she was leaving.  

21.) . She’s clearly unhappy, so she tries to make everyone else around her the same.

No one who is happy with their life/themselves says/does the things she does/says.  Unhappy people recognize unhappy people.  I was that miserable once, I know it when I see it.

22.) She’s rude to wait staff/ baristas.

again, I wasn’t there but a coworker went with her to get coffee (He’s a nice guy to everyone, bless his heart) she rudely demanded a manager when her drink wasn’t made with what she asked for. Yeah, she’s one of THOSE people..

23.) and lastly only because I’m done talking about her; she blamed a mistake SHE made on a friend of mine, who got shit canned because if it.

Yup.  

I don’t care if this is ever discovered, don’t care if it is.  I don’t care if you believe me or think I’m some troll.  If you’re a fan of hers, rethink your fandom.  If you hate her, good on you.  Either way, I don’t care.  I just really wanted to vent out this joke of a human being. I’m not coming back to this tumblr.

farewell, noble listener from the future.

and Kristie, if you found this; Fuck you, twat.  I hope you remain miserable and alone for the rest of your life.  You deserve it for the shit you put everyone through daily.

[artificialqueens]

In Ten Years’ Time (Shalaska) - jazz

Summary: In which Sharon and Alaska attend their ten-year high school reunion together.

A/N: Showing the judges versatility by writing a lesbian AU and by trying out present tense! This fic goes out to my loves, Alaska del Needles & Dottie, and to @alaskasthighs for the inspiration. ~5k words.  

“We have to go,” Alaska whines. She rests her chin on Sharon’s shoulder, pouting at her through thick lashes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Sharon says, punctuating her response with a light kiss to Alaska’s forehead. “We could stay here, and watch Sons of Anarchy, and fuck.” Sharon thinks she’d prefer that, if she were being honest.

The kitchen’s flooded with pale sunlight, the kind that comes only at the end of long, hot day. Sharon’s doing the dishes, and it’s so painfully domestic, but she loves it: loves that Alaska saves vegetarian recipes for her on Pinterest, loves that Alaska hovers while Sharon cooks, rambling on about her coworkers, or the dreams she had the night before, or now, apparently, their upcoming high school reunion.

“But it’s a milestone, Shar. A milestone.”

“Since when is returning to that hellhole of a place after ten blissful years away cause for celebration?’”

“Hey, rude. It wasn’t all bad – it’s where you met me.” She slinks her slender arms around Sharon’s waist and allows herself a moment to reminisce: back to the English homework that Alaska would unfailingly complete for the both of them, the cigarettes Sharon used to sneak in between periods despite Alaska’s complaints, and the study halls spent making out in the heavy heat of the gym locker room.

“I just liked watching you run around in your cheerleading uniform,” Sharon smirks.

Sharon’s only half-kidding. No part of her feels the need to subject herself to the watchful gaze of stuck-up socialites, college dropouts, and obnoxious abusers of the inevitable open bar.

“But we have a fireplace,” Alaska states, and she sounds almost wistful.

Sharon wipes her palms on her leggings, turning to lean against the sink. “Okay…” she prods, hoping for further elaboration.

“I want people to know,” Alaska says. “I want to go to the reunion and show everyone that I didn’t, like, peak in high school, you know? We’re homeowners with a fucking fireplace and a cat and I get to see you naked, like, every day.”

Sharon pulls her in and smiles into Alaska’s mess of blonde hair, feeling herself weakening. She wants to stay strong, she really does, but she’s no match for her girlfriend, as usual.

“Don’t you at least wanna see how fucked everyone else is doing?” Alaska tries.

“I’m a little curious, yeah.”

“Yeah?” She bounces on the balls of her feet, her smile reaching her eyes, bright blue and crinkling at the corners. That’s when Sharon knows it’s game over.

“You owe me, Lasky. I mean it.”

“You love me, you really love me,” Alaska singsongs.

“I wanna see what kind of work Willam’s had done, and that’s it.”

“Whatever you say, babe.” Alaska slides her hands under Sharon’s loose V-neck, soft from over-wear, her manicured fingers tracing each rib individually until she can feel goosebumps rising on Sharon’s milky skin. “I can think of a couple ways I could make it worth your while…”

Sharon’s already pushing her toward the couch, Alaska’s bottom lip captured between her teeth. “Try me.”

And that’s how Alaska, against all odds, convinces Sharon Needles to attend their ten-year high school reunion.

-

Sharon can admit, now, that it’s not the worst idea Alaska’s ever had.  

She watches her girlfriend check herself out in the floor-length mirror propped in their bedroom, and she looks stunning in a skin-tight cocktail dress. She’s wearing her hair half-up, half-down; she won’t stop running her fingers through the ends. Sharon thinks that Alaska’s nervous, that she wants to make sure she looks absolutely perfect (which she does) in order to make all of their classmates sufficiently jealous (which she will.)

Sharon loves that she’s the one who gets to show her off.

“What are you gonna wear?” Alaska spins around and her eyes are wide, frantic. “Oh my God, you can’t wear ripped jeans. You’re not gonna wear ripped jeans, are you?”

Sharon places her hands on Alaska’s shoulders. “First of all, chill.” She waits for Alaska to take a deep breath in, and out. “And why does it matter what I wear? Everyone’s gonna be looking at you, anyway.”

Alaska chooses to ignore the flattery, though she appreciates the attempt. “I want everyone to see how hot my girlfriend is,” Alaska coos. When Sharon makes a face, she adds, “You’re hot, Shar. Stop that.”

Sharon’s changed a lot since high school, and while Sharon might not be able to see it, Alaska can. The Sharon she met over ten years ago sported ratty band tees and Chuck Taylors over fishnets and didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought about it. Her platinum hair is shorter now, styled into a sleek bob, framing her angular face in ways that her former tangled hair never could. She’s filled out, too, curves existing where there used to only be hard lines.

Alaska loved her then, now, and all through the in-between.

“Let me help you pick something out,” Alaska decides, moving to sift through their closet.

There’s the red blazer and skirt set that makes Sharon look like a risqué, power-hungry CEO – one of Alaska’s personal favorites – or the lacy green gown that hugs her hips in all the right ways. She runs her hands over different fabrics, stopping when she brushes across sequins. “This is so it. This is the winner!”

Alaska holds out her find: a black sequined dress that she’ll pair with thigh-high boots. She knows it’ll definitely turn heads, while still screaming Sharon.

“The things I do for you…” Sharon grumbles, even as she pulls the garment over her head. It’s a little itchy, but Alaska’s right: the small sequins catch the light attractively, her legs elongated by the short cut of the dress.

She stands next to Alaska and assesses their reflections in the mirror. Alaska’s radiating; she’s a couple inches taller than Sharon without heels, and tonight her hairdo only serves to give her extra height. They look good, and Sharon feels that familiar pang in her chest, associated with somehow landing a girl eons out of her league.

She’s still not entirely sure how it happened. Sharon and Alaska didn’t exactly run in the same circles back in high school – Sharon didn’t really run in anyone’s circle. She wasn’t bitter about it: she knew she came off as kind of thorny, maybe a little abrasive, and, at any rate, she didn’t care for most of those people.

But Alaska was different: kind and gentle and pure, in the way she’d walk Sharon to class just to talk to her for a few minutes, or when she’d invite her over after school to make flashcards for their exams, or how she’d told her, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, that she wanted to take Sharon to homecoming senior year. Alaska was good, the only one able to soften her edges.

The only one willing to try.

So Sharon would try, too – try to enjoy herself at the reunion tonight, for no other reason than to make Alaska happy. Because that’s what you do in relationships, Sharon reminds herself, ignoring the tightness in her chest.

“I don’t wanna be early, but I don’t wanna be too late, y’know?” Alaska’s saying now, admiring her ass in the mirror.

Sharon sighs, reluctantly accepting her fate.

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Sharon forces a smile and grabs the car keys from their nightstand, to head back to the one place Sharon could’ve sworn she’d never step foot in again.

-

Alaska’s all but sitting in Sharon’s lap at one of the circular tables that the school’s set up in the gymnasium.

“Being back here with you…” Alaska says, her voice husky in Sharon’s ear, “I don’t know, it turns me on, I guess.” She giggles, and Sharon’s reeling, heat pooling between her legs.

Sharon has to say, having her girlfriend draped over her like a blanket is proving to be a nice distraction from the otherwise cringeworthy events taking place around them: the small talk, the forced mingling, the not-so-subtle judging. Sharon’s been tense ever since stepping foot into the school again, constantly looking over her shoulder – for what, she didn’t even know.

She’d almost forgotten how much she used to despise it here.

High school wasn’t filled with happy memories for Sharon like it was for Alaska. She wasn’t popular by any stretch of the imagination, and she definitely wasn’t head cheerleader or teacher’s pet. Hell, she wasn’t even just gay – she was gay and weird. Kids could be cruel, and they never let her forget it.

Alaska picks up on Sharon’s anxious disposition almost instantly, lacing her fingers through Sharon’s and pulling the back of her palm up to her lips to kiss. “Thanks for being my arm candy tonight, babe.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” Sharon jokes, choosing instead to focus on the peachy shade of gloss Alaska’s wearing, how she wants to lick it off later.

“Clearly. Now let me parade you around.” Alaska untangles herself from Sharon and hops up, giving Sharon no choice but to follow.

When she’s by her girlfriend’s side, Sharon can accept it, almost: that she’s beautiful, that she’s worth parading around. Alaska pinches the flesh on Sharon’s hip and squeals whenever anyone gives either of them a once-over. Sharon’s not used to the spotlight, but thinks she could learn to tolerate it with Alaska right next to her, admiring Sharon with goddamn stars in her eyes.

“Did you see that?” Alaska hisses. “Jaremi Carey just winked at you.”

Sharon doesn’t respond.

She spots Willam and Courtney first, and it stops her dead in her tracks.

Her stomach clenches instinctively and she braces herself, realizing too late that she didn’t properly mentally prepare for this moment, and that it’s only a matter of time before Alaska locates her old best friends, too. Sharon had her reservations about them from the get-go, and for good reason.

Seeing the two girls forces Sharon to reluctantly recall her first real fight with Alaska: they were seventeen, and Willam and Courtney had invited Alaska to a college party.

Alaska had casually announced her Friday night plans as Sharon drove her home from school that day, and Sharon was freaked. Being caught underage would absolutely destroy Alaska, who’d never even gotten so much as a detention before, and she was so cute – too ­cute – and what if she wasn’t watching her drink closely enough, or if she got separated from Willam and Courtney?

And it’s not like Sharon even wanted to sip lukewarm beers in the dingy basement of a fraternity house, but she would’ve liked to have been asked, at least.

She’d never forget how Alaska seethed at Sharon voicing her concerns, accusing Sharon of not trusting her, of being jealous, and why couldn’t she loosen up like Will and Court? Sharon sat there in the driver’s seat, stunned, as Alaska flung open the passenger door and stomped up her driveway. No goodbye, no “I’m sorry” – nothing.

Sharon couldn’t sleep until she knew Alaska was home safely that night.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts abruptly when Alaska eventually identifies Willam and Courtney from across the room and shrieks, heels clacking against the linoleum as she run-waddles toward them with enthusiasm, tugging Sharon along with her.

Sharon briefly wonders if Willam and Courtney arrived together tonight; they used to be inseparable in high school, prompting Sharon to frequently question their relationship status – not that she’d ever say so to Alaska.

Courtney was nice enough, but had always been wrapped around Willam’s finger. Willam was harder to read: more intimidating than the smaller blonde, she was a matchless combination of indifference and vanity. You either wanted her to like you, or you wanted her to leave you the hell alone.

Sharon subscribed to the latter philosophy.

The obligatory round of hugs and compliments passes at an excruciatingly slow rate as Sharon searches, unsuccessfully, for an out.

“Ugh, you two are such couple goals,” Courtney slurs, her mouth seeking out the straw to her fruity drink. “Aren’t they, Will?”

“Who woulda thought? I didn’t see this,” Willam motions between Alaska and Sharon with a flailing hand, “lasting past prom.”

Sharon bites her tongue, the words stinging like salt in an old wound. She wraps an arm more tightly around her girlfriend.

Alaska’s rendered unbothered. “It’s so good to see you girls again, God. We used to have some fun.” She looks over at Sharon, who’s staring at the floor.

Courtney grasps onto Alaska’s wrist. “Remember skinny dipping at Violet’s?”

“Oh my God, is she here? Tell me she’s here.”

“Her slam piece back then was something else,” Willam muses. “What was his name? Brian? Bob? Who the fuck knows – I blew him in her poolhouse.”

They’re screeching, reminiscing about chugging Breezers after football games and setting each other up with their hot friends, and Sharon feels herself withdrawing, retreating back to a place she thought she’d left behind years ago.

She never fit in with Alaska’s crowd, she’s always known that. Alaska had this whole other life before Sharon, though, and Sharon knows she shouldn’t care – but she does, because it’s a life she can’t even begin to understand, to relate to.

She wasn’t invited to college parties. She wasn’t invited to anything.

Sharon’s struggling to get enough oxygen into her lungs, and she thinks she might be making a strange face at Courtney, thinks she can hear Willam laughing at Sharon’s expense.

“Yeah, same,” Sharon interjects loudly, earning her a puzzled look from her girlfriend.

Before anyone can ask what the hell is wrong with her, Sharon puts her head down and makes a beeline for the open bar. She doesn’t want to see anyone, doesn’t want anyone to see her – all she wants is a vodka soda. Better yet, she wants to go home, wants to slam the front door to her apartment and scrub off the stench of this awful night in the shower. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, coming back here.

Sharon isn’t bulletproof, despite her fervent efforts to convince herself that she is. Most of the time, she can fool herself, but Willam and Courtney and everything they stand for is just a painful reminder that Sharon’s skin isn’t as thick as she’d like it to be, that she’s the butt end of some sad inside joke that everyone else seems to be in on.

Picking up her pace, she knows it’s nothing that a strong drink can’t fix. As she’s making her way through the throngs of her former classmates, Sharon’s shoulder connects with an unsuspecting victim, nearly knocking her over.

“Fuck, sorry,” Sharon mumbles, her cheeks flushing red. She readjusts her dress and attempts to regain her composure.

It takes her seconds before it registers: the inked-up, tan-legged woman in front of her is none other than Raja Amrull. Her hair is long and dark, interrupted by a singular grey streak, and, luckily, she seems to be unharmed after Sharon’s clumsy tirade.  

“Looks like you need this more than I do,” Raja says, handing Sharon a shot of what looks like whiskey, and, after she tosses it back eagerly, can be confirmed as such.

“Shit,” Sharon exhales, the liquor warming her chest. “I didn’t think I’d be glad to see anyone tonight.”

She means it; she hadn’t even considered that Raja might attend this sort of event, but she’s glad for it, reaching out to give Raja’s hand a grateful squeeze. She’s taller than Sharon remembers, and there’s something calming about her presence.

Aside from Alaska, Raja was the closest thing Sharon had to a friend in school. Raja also tended to keep to herself, but sometimes they’d hotbox Raja’s car while Sharon waited for Alaska to finish up cheer practice, get high and think about life post-graduation. She’d been the one to give Sharon her first tattoo, a small stick-and-poke, which, in hindsight, was probably a terrible idea, but Raja listened to her rant about her crush on Alaska and always nodded at the appropriate times, and Sharon appreciated her for it.

“Bitch, I’m surprised they even let you in.” Raja laughs, and her teeth are so white, and Sharon finds herself laughing, too, each peal easing some of the tension out of her shoulders.

“You and me both.”

They fall back into a normal rhythm effortlessly. Raja secures her hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck with an elastic, tells Sharon about the studio she’s opened up in California, how she’s been drinking wine in the afternoons and experimenting with oil pastels. Sharon thinks it sounds nice, promises to let Raja know if she ever travels out west.

“You’re still with Alaska, yeah?” Raja asks finally. “I mean, of course you are, she was the love of your life. How is she?”

“She’s… Alaska,” Sharon says, choosing her words carefully. “Dragged me here against my will. The usual.”

“Sounds about right.”

Raja smiles from her eyes, like she knows – and she probably does, can probably sense Sharon’s regret over letting her old ghosts resurface, and in front of Alaska and her friends, no less.It makes Sharon want to open up to Raja, tell her everything: how Alaska’s only gotten more beautiful with age, if that’s even possible, how they’ll go home later and strip down to their underwear, probably apply one of the fancy face masks Alaska’s ordered online.

“We made zoodles the other week,” Sharon blurts, laughs when she says it aloud. “Zucchini noodles,” she clarifies, and Raja just nods, like it’s the most natural thing Sharon could’ve said.

It’s more than the eccentric dinner entrées, though. It’s the way Alaska knows Sharon’s favorite brand of cheap ass red wine from the store, and how she’ll try to surprise her with it. It’s when she comes home from work with Dollar Store fuzzy socks with pumpkins on them, and she’ll say that they made her think of Sharon so she just had to buy a pair. It’s how she’ll walk around in those same pumpkin socks and a giant sweatshirt, quote entire episodes of the Golden Girls aloud in the middle of the day.

“We have a townhouse near the city now, too,” Sharon continues, “with a fireplace.”

Her throat catches on the last three words, and her heart swells with pride.

“You guys are lucky,” Raja muses.

Sharon feels lucky; her body is buzzing with it, and she knows she has to find Alaska and kiss her, let her know with lips pressed firmly against hers that she’s sorry for overreacting, that this place messes with her head, but that it’s okay – it’s okay because she’s so totally enamored with Alaska that she’d do it all ten times over again if it meant she could keep falling in love, here, with her.

“I should go find her,” Sharon says apologetically.

“No worries,” Raja says, and then, earnestly, “we turned out alright, Needles.”

-

Sharon scans the room for her girlfriend and pinpoints her, gives her a sheepish wave from over near the bar. Sharon watches as Alaska finishes up her conversation, embraces her friends one final time before sauntering over to Sharon. The sea of unfamiliar faces parts for Alaska, unsurprisingly.

“Hey, there you are,” Alaska says. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Was hoping I could take you home tonight.” She waggles her eyebrows.

Despite everything, Sharon laughs at her ridiculous, adorable girlfriend. “Thought you were gonna get lucky, huh?”

“Well… am I?” Alaska steps closer to her, and the whole mood shifts; she smells like perfume and spearmint gum and Sharon’s very nearly transported back to the first time Alaska had leaned in for a kiss – Sharon remembers thinking it had to be some elaborate prank – but Alaska’slooking at her with those smoldering blue eyes now, and Sharon’s hands instinctively move to her waist to pull her in.

Sharon knows she’ll never get tired of kissing Alaska, of the way she sighs into her mouth happily, pressing her chest hard against Sharon. She knows this, just like she knows Alaska’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that ever really mattered, and Sharon nudges her tongue against Alaska’s teeth.

“I kinda freaked out back there,” Sharon admits.

Alaska scoffs, as if to say that’s an understatement, but places a small peck on Sharon’s nose anyway, which she welcomes happily. “I can’t believe you left me alone to third-wheel,” Alaska pouts.

Sharon tilts her head questioningly.

“Babe,” Alaska says, “I’ve been Will and Court’s third wheel since the ninth grade. You had to have known.”

Sharon wants to gloat, say that she called it, but there’d be time for that later. Instead, she’s hyperaware of Alaska’s hands travelling south, dancing across her lower back.  Every gesture with Alaska is a tease, designed to make Sharon crazy.

“Can I tell you something?” Alaska murmurs, her cheek brushing lightly against Sharon’s.

Sharon hums her approval, lets her eyes flutter shut.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress,” Alaska whispers, and she drags out each syllable. She gives a slow twirl to illustrate, clearly impressed with herself.

Sharon lets the words linger in the air, an electric promise, and it takes all of her strength not to undress her right here – she thinks she might if there weren’t so many people around. She opts for another kiss, this one sloppier than the first, Sharon securing Alaska’s chin in place with a thumb and forefinger.

Sharon is the first to come up for a breath, uttering a low, “follow me,” before ushering Alaska toward the outskirts of the room, a hand resting on the small of her back. Sharon loves it: the way Alaska obeys without hesitation, always being one to follow directions. Sharon’s hand is tingling; she can nearly feel the heat of Alaska’s skin beneath the thinness of her dress, the modest amount of contact hardly enough for either of them.

As they walk, the crowd begins to disperse, and the two are able to slip away undetected into an adjoining room, humid and dimly lit and all too familiar.

“You’re so dumb,” Alaska giggles, as Sharon leads her through rows of rusted lockers with chipping paint. “The girls’ locker room? Really?”  

Sharon stops abruptly and pushes Alaska against the cool metal of the lockers, the rattling reverberating loudly throughout the otherwise unoccupied room, and a soft moan escapes Alaska’s lips. Suddenly, she’s not laughing anymore.

There’s a moment that passes, when Sharon and Alaska are only inches apart, and they’re breathing each other in, unmoving – when a few loose strands of hair fall down into Alaska’s face, and she doesn’t reach to fix it, doesn’t dare to be the one to break – that Sharon feels the gravity of the past ten years, of the girl pinned beneath her, who’s been here through it all.

And Sharon’s still just as fucking attracted to her as she was the day they first met.

Their mouths crash together simultaneously, and they’re kissing like kids again, fast and hurried, as if they didn’t have all the time in the world to kiss and touch and explore. Sharon tugs the straps of Alaska’s dress off her shoulders, peppers kisses onto the exposed skin, loves the way her girlfriend’s breath hitches when Sharon scrapes her teeth across the flesh.

Alaska instinctively grinds down on the leg that Sharon has pressed between her own. Her dress is riding up and Sharon eagerly takes note, running her hands up Alaska’s smooth thighs, allowing a thumb to rest near her entrance. She’s already dripping, and it drives Sharon absolutely crazy; she can feel the wetness seeping onto her leg.

Alaska guides one of Sharon’s hands to where her breasts have spilled out from her dress, now bunched around the hard planes of her stomach, and Sharon’s positive that her body is a work of art as their mouths fight to stay connected.

Sharon can hardly help it: she drops to her knees, her nails digging into Alaska’s ass as she licks the moisture from her girlfriend’s inner thighs. She’s reveling in the sounds Alaska makes, the way she says Sharon’s name, urging her on.

She’d have to remind herself to thank Alaska later, in bed, for choosing to forgo the panties tonight.

Sharon looks up, sees Alaska groping her own breasts with heavy-lidded eyes. Her mouth is open, just barely, and Sharon’s sure that Alaska has no idea how gorgeous she is, right at this exact moment – and it’s all the motivation Sharon needs.

She swipes her tongue, once, over Alaska’s folds and pauses, the neatly groomed hair tickling Sharon’s nose. With a free hand, Alaska reaches down and laces her fingers through Sharon’s platinum locks, drawing her closer to Alaska’s heat.

Sharon whimpers against her, the vibrations evoking a strangled whine from Alaska. “Fuck me, Shar, please.”

“This was our spot, Lasky,” Sharon says. She sucks a mark onto the patch of skin above Alaska’s sensitive bud, and she takes her time, enjoys it. “Remember?”  

Alaska stretches an arm above her head, lets her fingers wander until they find the gouges in the metal, jagged strokes notched years ago. She traces the imprint of the SN + AT that Sharon carved onto locker number 66 – which Sharon had obviously haphazardly etched an extra 6 into, despite Alaska’s protests about vandalization on school property.

Anyone can just walk in, and that’s half the fun of it, Sharon had argued. She used to wish that someone would wander into the locker room, catch Sharon with two fingers pumping in and out of Alaska, whose skirt would be around her ankles until the late bell rang out over the loudspeakers.

“Of course – of course I remember, fuck,” Alaska manages, her voice strangled from both the sweet sentiment and her growing impatience.

“I wanna make you come right here.”

Sharon says it like it’s a challenge, and she makes quick work of unravelling the gorgeous blonde quaking in front of her, lapping at her opening. Alaska’s hot and swollen around Sharon’s tongue, and Sharon settles in, using the hand still on her ass as leverage to pull Alaska toward her face. Sharon’s chin is soaked and she doesn’t care, moaning into Alaska, guttural and muffled.

She realizes that, at some point, she must’ve started to rub herself through her thong. Sharon can feel her own dampness now as she circles Alaska’s clit with her tongue, inserting a finger into her and crooking it upwards.  She’s so slick and Sharon can hear it; she can picture how Alaska’s touching herself, pinching and squeezing her small breasts until she gasps.

Alaska’s grinding her hips onto Sharon, desperate and fast, and Sharon lets her, lets Alaska smother her until Sharon can barely breathe. She seals her lips around Alaska’s clit, rolling it between them before sucking hard, and Alaska’s legs are quivering. Sharon can tell that she’s close; she slides a second finger into Alaska for good measure, hitting the spot she likes again and again and again.

Alaska can’t keep quiet for the life of her, and it’s almost too much for Sharon to handle. Even after ten years, she still feels a jolt of satisfaction whenever she’s able to evoke those pretty little moans from her girlfriend.  Sharon pulls her panties to the side as she massages sloppy patterns into her pussy.

“Sharon, I… I’m –”

Alaska clenches around Sharon and comes, loudly, tugging on Sharon’s hair as she shudders, spurring Sharon toward her own climax.

Surges of pleasure roll up Sharon’s spine and out through her fingers and toes, wave after orgasmic wave crashing over her as she coaxes Alaska through her own aftershocks with a delicate tongue, wringing out every drop that she can, before Alaska sinks to the floor next to Sharon. Alaska captures Sharon’s mouth in a lazy kiss that tastes of her.

Alaska’s half-naked and spent, wrapped around her girlfriend, whispering gently into Sharon’s neck, “Let’s go home.”

-

They exit through the gymnasium, hand in hand. Alaska’s hair’s a mess and Sharon’s sure she’s sporting a nice post-sex glow, but she doesn’t care – she feels good, better than she’s felt in a while. She even flashes a genuine smile at Willam and Courtney on the way out.

Sharon holds the heavy door open for Alaska, watches her walk through, out into the parking lot and toward their little car. She’s laughing about something and Sharon repeats the sound over and over in her mind.

They decide to drive backroads tonight, and everything’s different, but it’s all still the same, really. Alaska’s hand is resting on Sharon’s inner thigh and she’s humming; Sharon thinks she’ll probably let Alaska eat her out when they’re home. They’ll open the window and let the cool breeze in and they won’t even bother making the bed.