#happy first day of pride. and happy gum gum saturday!

[indiegame]

today was. good. yeah. needed that.

[enragedbees]

Does He Make You Happy?

Updates Saturdays 6pm EST!

Pairing: Logicality, side Prinxiety

Summary: Patton remembers his first date with Logan and what happened after Logan left. Logan reunites with Patton four years after their breakup.

Warnings: mild swearing, depression, mention of unhealthy relationship (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 4663

Song rec: Date by RADWIMPS

A huge thanks to the lovely @fall-sunflowers for being my beta reader!!

Taglist: @xxpeach-bobaxx @starwarsdestroyedme @faded-paper-colours @nafsbluebery @cass-isdumb

I love reading your guys’ comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

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Chapter 2: Dreams Fade Away

        “So, hey, uh, would you like to go out sometime?”

        Patton looked up from his iced coffee. He had known Logan for a little over two weeks, and it was the fifth time they had gotten breakfast together before walking over to the center Logan tutored at. Patton didn’t really believe Logan needed navigational help every single time he had to get there, but Patton was happy to spend more time with him.

        The two sat at an outdoor table from the coffee shop they met in, not two feet from where they first slammed into each other. Across the table, Logan looked at Patton with flushed cheeks and nervousness in his eyes. Patton thought it was adorable that he would be nervous about asking him out. But, to be fair, Patton had expected Logan to take much longer to actually do it.

        “Yeah, I’d love to.” Patton grinned reassuringly, not wanting Logan to stay anxious for long. Even if it was cute.

        Logan tried to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes lit up. “Oh, okay, great.” He fiddled with the lid on his coffee. “Are you free tonight?”

        “I get off work at five, but I’m free anytime after that.”

        Logan smiled pleasantly. “Great. I’ll pick you up at 6:30?”

        “Sure!” Patton pulled out his phone as they threw away their empty cups and started walking. “I’ll text you my address. Although, be warned, my roommate is very protective of me. He’s going to want to meet you before I go anywhere with you.”

        “That’s fine. I’m sure I can handle it.”

        They walked the same trip that they had made several times before, but Patton could feel that the dynamic had changed. While it was a little awkward, they were more relaxed with each other. And Logan had this little blushy grin the whole time, which was an excellent addition to Patton’s morning.

        Patton thought he had been keeping his crush under control, but even after they parted ways, Patton couldn’t keep his mind off Logan for the rest of the day.

That evening, Patton stood at the sink in the bathroom, fussing with his hair. It always seemed extra difficult to take care of when he needed it to cooperate.

        He wasn’t nervous for his date, he wasn’t worried about looking absolutely amazing. He knew Logan wouldn’t care what he looked like. Still, he wanted to look nice.

        For whatever reason, he thought to himself, grinning.

        Patton’s roommate had helped him pick out an outfit, since he knew more about fashion anyway. Roman had been his personal stylist since freshman year of college, and Patton wasn’t going to complain about continuing to get free fashion advice. Patton wore a blue, white, and gray plaid button down and khakis. He had washed his face, borrowed some of Roman’s cologne, and even cleaned off his glasses with lens cleaner. Despite pretending not to be nervous, he meticulously made sure he looked the absolute best he could without looking like he spent so much time doing it.

        Except for his hair.

        Several minutes into fighting with it with a comb and water, Patton heard the doorbell ring. He let Roman answer the door, just sweeping his bangs to the side and spitting out some gum.

        He walked into the living room of his apartment, where Roman was not-so-subtly interrogating Logan. Patton couldn’t help but grin when he saw Logan, managing to hold his own against Roman, who had 3 inches and at least 50 pounds on him. Logan was relaxed, professional, and suave in a long sleeve black button down and blue tie, and Patton could tell Roman was impressed, though he’d never let Logan know that.

        Logan saw Patton enter the room and his professional façade immediately crumbled. He broke into the biggest grin, and Patton hoped his own face wasn’t as red as it felt.

        Out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw Roman smirk with pride at the outfit he had picked out. Logan looked him up and down, too, and Patton found himself messing with his bangs again.

        “Hey.” Patton smiled warmly.

        “Hey,” responded Logan. “Ready to go?”

        “Yeah, let me just grab my phone.” Patton crossed to the other side of the room while Roman continued to question Logan.

        “So where are you guys headed tonight?” Roman crossed his arms and stared Logan down.

        Logan stared right back. “The new Italian restaurant that just opened up downtown. I’m friends with the owner, so I was able to get a reservation during the dinner hour on short notice.”

        Patton hid a smile as Roman involuntarily raised his eyebrows. He knew Logan had chosen a fancy restaurant to treat Patton, but it was hilarious to see him throw Roman off.

        Patton and Logan walked into the hallway as Roman told them to have fun and not to stay out too late. He tried to sound stern, but shot Patton an encouraging smile before the door was closed.

        “So, you’ve only lived here for a few weeks. How have you already made friends with recreational advantages?” asked Patton as they walked to Logan’s car.

        Logan smiled as he opened the passenger door for Patton. “The restaurant owner is the mother of one of my students.”

        Patton grinned as Logan climbed into the front seat and started the car. “You handled Roman pretty well. I think he was impressed.”

        “Well, it’s clear he cares a lot about you,” said Logan. “I knew that as long as I made sure he knew I also care about you, he would approve.”

        Patton felt his face and chest get warm. Logan continued. “I’d like to know, though; why is he so protective of you? Has he…disliked people you’ve been with previously?”

        Patton took a breath. “Not me. Roman was in a pretty bad relationship in college, so he’s wary of most of the people interested in either of us.”

        Logan nodded. “Reminds me of my roommate. Maybe they’d be good together.”

        “You’re roommate’s name is Virgil, right?” asked Patton.

        “Yes.”

        “Didn’t you say he was straight?”

        Logan smirked at Patton, shaking his head. “Virgil might think he’s straight.”

        Patton laughed. He and Logan kept talking, and Patton had no idea why he was so nervous before. He also had no idea why he was still nervous. He hoped Logan was also nervous, but Logan showed no signs of anxiety.

        The sun beamed from behind puffy clouds onto Logan’s face as they drove. His blue tie made the blue in his eyes brighter and sharper. Logan mentioned at one point that he liked a song on the radio, and even though Patton had never heard of it, he decided he loved it too.

        The evening was wonderful. Although the nervousness in Patton’s stomach never went away, he still became more and more comfortable with Logan as the night went on. Logan insisted on paying for dinner, as he had asked Patton out. They took a walk downtown afterwards and Patton bought them both ice cream, since he had agreed to the date.

        Patton showed Logan around the city, to the places he knew Logan would never find out about on his own or never have the time to go to otherwise. As they walked out of the ice cream parlor, Logan looked in amazement at the fairy lights strung between buildings and the tastefully modern gondola running through town. Patton reached down, lacing his fingers with Logan’s, and Logan turned and gave such a pure smile Patton thought he would melt.

        Walking around, holding hands with Logan, Patton didn’t want the night to end. But as the sun went down and the sky faded to indigo, he knew they should probably be heading home.

        The drive back to Patton’s apartment was still relaxed, but Logan was antsy. When they stopped in the doorway to Patton’s building, he realized why.

        “So, um, I had a really great time tonight,” said Logan, fidgeting with his sleeve.

        “Me too.” Patton smiled. “Let’s do this again soon.”

        “Of course.” Logan looked up at Patton, smiling nervously. He held his gaze, intensely, intimately, in a way that completely eliminated Patton’s nerves all at once. But he didn’t move.

        A moment passed. Logan looked down. He cleared his throat. “Um, well. Goodnight.”

        Patton stepped forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s. Logan put one hand on the side of Patton’s face and the other on his arm. Patton rested his hand against Logan’s chest. Time stood still for one moment, and Patton could feel his heart pounding and every single nerve in his body lighting up. Heat rushed through him, from his head to the ends of his fingers down to his feet and into the ground. He felt Logan smile against his mouth, which made Patton smile back.

        Just for one moment, all he could focus on was Logan, the smell and taste and presence of him, and the rush of emotion flowing throughout Patton’s veins. In that one moment, everything was perfect.

        They broke apart, Logan’s eyes fluttering open after a few seconds. Logan grinned, breathless.

        “Goodnight,” whispered Patton, letting his fingers slide down Logan’s chest to take hold of his hand.

        “Goodnight.”

        Patton stepped away, letting their hands pull apart. He pulled into his apartment, unable to stop smiling as he closed the door.

        Logan, still grinning, took a deep breath, red fading from his cheeks, as he tried to get his heart to settle down. He stared at the apartment door for a moment before turning down the hallway and walking away.

~

        Patton laid in bed, no longer crying but feeling like he could start again any minute. Roman was next to him, one arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair, telling him how everything was going to be okay. Patton barely registered the words and he didn’t care.

        Virgil paced around outside the bedroom door with his phone to his ear. Every time the call went unanswered, he typed something out angrily on his phone and tried again.

        After about 20 minutes, Virgil came back into the room and shook his head at Roman, who pursed his lips.

        Patton wasn’t oblivious. He knew they were trying to reach Logan. Apparently neither of them had seen it coming, either.

        Patton could tell Roman was pissed. He clearly was upset that Logan had hurt Patton so badly. But there was something else there, too. Roman and Logan hadn’t become the best of friends over the years. But they were still close, and Roman probably felt betrayed.

        Virgil was definitely frustrated, but he seemed more sad than anything else. He had been Logan’s best friend since high school. It had to have hurt that Logan never even told him he was planning to uproot his entire life and leave everyone he loved behind.

        Virgil came and sat down next to the bed. “Can you tell us again what happened?”

        Patton sighed and sat up. “I came home and…and I found that note. And he was packing a suitcase.” Patton felt his chest start to get tight again, and he paused so his voice wouldn’t crack. “He told me we wanted different things, and…”

        Patton sniffed. “He said it was for the best that he left. So I could…find happiness with someone else, or something.”

        Roman tensed behind him. He pressed Patton’s head against his shoulder, and a few escaped tears ran hot down Patton’s face.

        Virgil looked down at the floor. Nobody moved for what felt to Patton like a large expanse of time. It could have only been a few minutes. He couldn’t tell.

Virgil’s phone screen lit, and he jumped up and left the room to answer it. Patton felt like a lead ball had formed in his stomach.

        Roman stayed next to him. “This was a complete dick move. I thought he was more mature than this. If he can’t even talk through something of this magnitude, you’re probably better off without him anyway.”

        Patton leaned into his shoulder. “You aren’t helping, Roman.”

        “I’m sorry.” Roman took a deep breath as Patton closed his eyes. “I just hate seeing you like this. Especially when I know I can’t do anything about it.”

        Virgil walked past the bedroom door, phone to his ear. Patton saw Roman grab his attention after a minute and tell him, nonverbally, to give him the phone.

        Virgil muttered under his breath, “Um, I think Roman wants to talk to you.”

        Virgil looked back at Roman and shook his head. Roman nodded sternly. Virgil sighed and mumbled something else into the phone. He walked back into the bedroom, handing the phone off to Roman as he stood up and walked into the hallway.

        Patton could hear Roman whisper-yelling something from the other room, but he couldn’t make out what it was.

        Virgil looked at Patton earnestly. The look in his eyes was so intense and genuine, Patton was frozen in place. “I’m really sorry that you’re going through this.”

        The emotion started welling up inside him again. “Thanks,” he croaked, turning his face away.

        Roman came back into the room, lips pressed tightly together. He and Virgil stepped out into the hallway, and Patton listened closely so he could hear.

        “I think I better stay here tonight,” whispered Roman. “Go ahead home, you might have better luck talking to Logan later.”

        “You sure? I can stay.”

        “No, it’s alright. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

        Virgil looked back into the room at Patton, then nodded. He gave Roman a quick kiss on the cheek. Patton heard the front door shut behind him as Roman came back into the bedroom.

        They didn’t talk much the rest of the night. Roman went to sleep on the floor next to the bed. Patton couldn’t sleep. He could barely remember the last time he had slept alone. He kept reaching over, hoping every time to feel someone else on the other side of the bed. And each time, he grasped cold sheets.

        Roman had a show rehearsal early afternoon the next day, so in the morning, he made sure Patton would be okay, and left.

        Patton was actually relieved to be completely solitary. He no longer felt like he had to hide how much he was hurting so he didn’t worry his friends. He felt like he was able to grieve in a way that would ultimately help him feel better.

        But he didn’t.

        He wasn’t able to cry anymore, so he just felt hollow and fragile. He didn’t have much energy, so he stayed in bed most of the time.

        Every once in awhile, Patton got out of bed, but it took most of his energy, so he spent most of his time mindlessly watching television in bed or sleeping. He spent a lot of time sleeping.

        It wasn’t long before Roman and Virgil came back to check on him. Patton was still in bed, listening to sad music from his phone and watching the minutes change on the clock on his nightstand.

        Roman knocked lightly on the already ajar door. “Hey, Patton. How’re you doing?”

        Patton sat up slowly and ran his hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mumbled.

        Virgil poked his head in the room. “Are you still wearing the clothes from the other night?”

        Patton looked down. “Yeah, I guess so.”

        Roman and Virgil exchanged a worried glance. “Have…you gotten out of bed since I left?” asked Roman.

        “Not much, but yeah. Why? It hasn’t been that long.”

        “Patton, that was three days ago.” Roman came and sat next to Patton on the bed. “Have you been eating?”

        Patton gestured to a mostly full box of crackers on the nightstand. “I haven’t really been that hungry.”

        Virgil came over and knelt in front of Patton. “This isn’t healthy, man. You’ve got to take care of yourself.”

        “I’m just really tired,” Patton mumbled, knowing he just also didn’t have the motivation to do anything. And it didn’t help to have his friends hovering over him like he would break at any moment.

        Roman stood up. “Get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

        Patton sighed. “I have groceries.”

        “There’s almost nothing in your fridge, and you’ll need something there when you get back on your feet. Which will start with you getting up, taking a shower, and doing something mundane.” Roman pulled a clean towel out of the dresser and tossed it to Patton.

        “I don’t need help to go grocery shopping, Roman,” Patton said. “And I really just want to be alone right now.”

        “Then we’ll go with you to the store, and Roman and I will shop around the plaza for awhile,” Virgil piped up. “Then you can get us when you’re done, and we’ll grab lunch or something.”

        Patton rested his head on his fist. “I’m also not interested in third-wheeling you guys.”

        Virgil rolled his eyes as Roman said, “Come on, just come with us. You’ve got to get out of this house. It’ll be good for you.”

        Patton didn’t want to, but eventually, he was up and out of bed, drying off from a shower, and putting fresh clothes on. He ran a comb through his hair. And he had to admit, just by doing that, he felt the best he had in days.

        Virgil and Roman dropped him off at the grocery store and walked down the sidewalk, telling him to text them when he was finished. After they had walked away, Patton looked back at them, getting a twinge in his stomach as they joined hands, fingers laced.

        Patton wandered through the store, not looking for much. He did realize along the way that there were actually quite a few items he needed. He was glad he had gone out then, instead of finding out he needed something later.

        Patton finished shopping quickly. He pulled out his phone to text Virgil, then put it down. He knew that the sooner he texted them, the sooner he’d have to go home. Roman was right, getting out of the apartment helped. But it was more than that. Patton couldn’t go back and be alone. The absence Logan had left behind was suffocating, and the apartment just felt too huge for Patton to stay in by himself.

  ��     So he put his bags in Roman’s trunk and walked over to a nearby café.

        The shop was deserted, for which Patton was grateful. He ordered his drink and sat down at the end of the bar.

        “Iced white mocha,” said the barista, setting the drink down. Patton grabbed it and thanked him. He sat back down and took a sip, stare blank.

The barista looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed. “Hey, you okay, man?”

Patton looked up at him. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a…long week.”

The barista nodded. A beat passed. “Wanna talk about it?”

Patton’s eyebrows raised. “I’m a good listener,” the man added.

        “Don’t you have to, like…work?” asked Patton.

The barista looked around the empty café. “We’ve been slow all day. And you look like you want to get something off your chest.”

Patton wasn’t planning to accept. But when he looked at the man, Patton could tell that he was completely genuine, that he actually wanted to comfort a stranger who needed it. And Patton was so charmed and warmed by that, he let out everything he had been keeping in over the past few days.

The barista was unbelievably sweet and didn’t judge Patton at all for venting to a stranger. He let Patton talk about the things he knew he couldn’t talk about with his friends, he comforted Patton and helped him feel better. When Patton left, he felt okay for the first time in days.

It was a few weeks later when Patton met the man again, on accident. They talked for awhile, the man was glad Patton felt better. Then they parted ways.

The third time they met was only partially on accident. Patton couldn’t stop thinking about the barista who would spend time and emotional energy comforting him at his lowest. He went back to the café at approximately the same time he had gone in at first, hoping the man would be there, and he was. Patton ordered his coffee, talked with him while he worked, and when Patton left, the man was excited that he had been able to get Patton’s number.

The fourth time they met, it was on purpose.

~

        Logan’s mouth hung open. Across from him, Patton grinned, eyes alight. Logan couldn’t believe how much Patton had changed over the last few years. His hair was short enough that it wasn’t very curly anymore. Patton had gotten even tanner, and he had put on muscle.

        Logan tried to hide his blushing.

        Patton exhaled in unbelief. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

        Logan felt like his mouth was filled with cotton. “Likewise.”

        Patton stepped forward, arms open, and Logan obliged, holding onto Patton tightly. They broke away after a minute, Logan’s skin tingling from where they had touched.

        “It’s great to see you,” said Logan. “How have you been?”

        Patton’s smile faded as he opened his mouth, then closed it again and put his smile back on. “I’ve been good. How about you?”

        “Good, yeah, thanks.” Logan looked down, searching for something else to say. An apology, maybe? Or was that too sudden? Was Patton waiting for an apology, or would that just dig up memories better left forgotten? Before Logan even recognized he was about to speak, he blurted out, “Do you want to get some coffee?”

        Logan immediately chastised himself. He shouldn’t have been trying to put himself back in Patton’s life; the whole reason Logan left was so Patton could have a chance at happiness without him.

        But Logan realized how much he craved Patton’s presence. He would do anything to spend just a little more time together, even if he knew it would only bring back a bad taste in both their mouths. And Logan finally came to the conclusion he had been trying to ignore for years.

        He had never gotten over Patton.

        Patton raised an eyebrow and pointed at the to-go cup in Logan’s hand. “Don’t you already have some?”

        Logan looked at down at his hand. Whoops. “It’s almost gone, and anyway, I could use some more caffeine.”

        Patton inhaled, then grinned. “Yeah, sure.”

        Logan’s heart skipped a beat.

        They walked side-by-side back to the nearest coffee shop, where the crowd of people outside had all but disappeared. Logan grabbed a corner table while Patton went to the front counter to place the order. He came back with two coffees. Logan took a sip, burning his tongue a little. He looked up at Patton.

        “You remembered.”

        “Well, yeah,” laughed Patton. “I used to order for both of us all the time. Your usual is burned into my brain.”

        Logan smiled despite himself. He took another sip as Patton put his cup down.

        “So, what’s been going on with you?” asked Patton.

        “Well, I teach high school now, instead of just tutoring,” said Logan. “History. And you were absolutely right, having regular weekly hours and weekends off really suits me.

        Patton laughed, light and airy, head back a little, and Logan thought that Patton really hadn’t changed at all. “Is it too mean to say I told you so? I always knew you would make a great teacher.”

        Logan grinned. “No, I deserve it. I really enjoy what I do, and I might not have done it if you never told me I should.”

        Patton smiled and sat up straighter. Logan couldn’t believe how effortless it was to be together again. He was worried the interaction would be awkward, stale, full of words unable or unwilling to be spoken. But it was as if the four years they were apart had never happened. Logan took in the sight of Patton, tried to memorize every little detail about this moment. He never thought he would see Patton again, and although there was still that nagging voice in his head telling him to get out of there immediately, Logan stayed, constantly exhilarated, unable to take his eyes off of Patton.

        “So, what about you? What’s been going on in your life?”

        Patton smiled again, but he started fidgeting with his coffee cup. “I’m now working as the general manager at a consignment store in the city, which has turned out to be way more fun than I thought. It’s…cool, to have management power in retail.”

        Logan smirked. “I can imagine. You’ve always been good with people.”

        “I’m still living downtown, but I’m getting ready to move about half an hour upstate, to Dacusville. And…” Patton hesitated, looking down at his hands.

        “What is it?” Logan asked after a moment, a little humorously, more with concern than amusement.

        Patton finally looked up, smiling breathlessly. “I’m getting married.”

        Logan felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The air in his lungs was forced out and he couldn’t catch his breath.

        For just a minute, time stopped. All Logan could see was Patton staring at him. Patton wanted Logan to be happy for him. Logan refused to hurt Patton by suggesting that he wasn’t.

        So as time resumed, Logan put on a big grin. “That’s…that’s really great! Congratulations, Patton.”

        Patton sighed, looking relieved. “Thanks. I’m really excited.”

        “Of course,” Logan said. “Who is he?”

        “His name is James.” Patton pulled out his phone and brought up his Instagram page, turning the screen so Logan could see the picture. James was shorter than Patton, pale white skin, and thick black hair. They were dressed nicely, standing in front of a poster that Logan recognized as a show Roman had been in a few years before.

        A few years.

        But the worst part of the picture was Patton. He gazed at James the way he used to gaze at Logan, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he couldn’t imagine seeing anything else. And James just beamed into the camera, like he didn’t even know how lucky he was to be loved by Patton.

        But Patton was still smiling as he put his phone away, and Logan remembered that this was what he wanted for Patton. He had found someone who made him happy, someone who he could spend his life with and not give up his dreams.

        So Logan refused to hate James. He couldn’t do that to Patton.

        Logan barely registered Patton talking, but tried to focus back in. “I know you would really like him, Logan. And I know this might be weird, but it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.”

        Logan raised his eyebrows. “Really? Why?”

        “Well, you’ve always meant a lot to me. I always hoped that if we ever broke up, we would still be friends. Besides, the others really miss you and I know they’d love to see you again.”

        Logan looked down. “I’ve missed them too.”

        “So you’ll come?”

        No. Say no. You know there’s no way you can go to that wedding. Make up an excuse, say anything. You’re not going. You can’t go. But Logan looked up at Patton, saw the hopefulness throughout his face, and reminded himself that all he ever wanted was for Patton to be happy. And if Logan going to his wedding would make him happy, he would go. Even if it crushed him.

        Logan smiled, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Absolutely.”

        Patton’s face lit up, which almost made up for the sudden heaviness in Logan’s chest. He let Patton put his new number into Logan’s phone before they parted.

        Patton hugged Logan goodbye, and Logan held on just as tightly as before. He watched Patton walk down the street until he disappeared around the corner. Logan took a deep breath, reminded himself of the items on his mental to-do list, and began the slow process of rebuilding his barrier.

[rositxespinosa]

It’s Complicated: Chapter 2

Remus Lupin x OC Rosalina Redd

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been one month since the start of the semester. Word around the school was that Charms was the second favorite class of the year; the first being Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin. When you overheard this, you were beyond thrilled. You felt proud of yourself and happy that you were excepted by the students. 

During the month you had been teaching, you often spent most of your free time  wandering around the castle or hanging out in the teachers lounge. The lounge was a medium sized room with a large fireplace in the middle of the back wall. Three large, circular tables filled the center of the room, surrounded by oak wood chairs. Along one of the walls was an old wardrobe filled with spare robes. The kitchen elves often came in to replenish the table that was filled with pastries and coffee. You enjoyed discussing your Charms lessons with Professor Flitwick. He was encouraging and helpful; a brilliant wizard. McGonnagall was usually too busy to do anything but pour herself a cup of coffee and speed right back out of the room. While you and Professor Flitwick chatted about your lessons, Professor Snape often sat at an empty table, glaring at you with a scowl on his face. You didn’t understand why Snape seemed to dislike you as much as he did. He would go out of his way to avoid you in the corridors, and when forced to converse in small talk with you his responses would be short and blunt. This hurt you deeply. Being liked by your colleagues gave you a sense of pride; a sense that you belonged. Having someone you thought was an extraordinary wizard express such disdain about your very presence hurt. It was difficult to express these feelings with the other staff members, so one night you confided in Remus. You and Remus had grown close over the past month, and you considered him a great friend. He was well mannered and kind, and he made your days brighter. The night you released your feelings about Snape, Remus confessed that he knew him as a boy, and that they hadn’t gotten along. The two of you could talk freely about your irritations with him in a judge-free space; and you appreciated him for that. Professor Snape wasn’t the only thing you talked about of course. You felt like you could talk about anything with Remus and hoped he felt the same. You would take about your day, how your lessons went, the students, the staff, yourselves. Countless hours were spent drinking tea, consuming chocolate he always had on hand, and talking with him. 

There was no point in denying it, you had feelings for Remus Lupin. No matter how many times you insisted to yourself that he was a great friend, or just another colleague, you couldn’t shake the feelings that started to form a few weeks into the year. Laying in bed at night, you would replay the conversations you’d had with him that day over and over, like a broken record. He was always so kind, and you liked that about him. To the students and to the other Professors, including Snape, who was never friendly towards him. He would bring you chocolate on breaks and make you tea. You felt validated when you were with him, and the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered furiously when he said anything remotely flirty hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Despite the evidence, you tried to convince yourself that Remus didn’t feel the same. He’d never made a move on you, and while laying sleepless in the night, you felt foolish for giving yourself hope that maybe he had. 

*******

The following week had been the same; teach, hang out in the teachers lounge, and spend an unnatural amount of time with someone you weren’t dating. Saturday had eventually rolled around. This weekend would be the first of many that the students in the third year and up would be able to go into the village of Hogsmeade. You were asked politely by Professor McGonnagall if you would care to chaperone this weeks visit, and since you had never been, you decided to take the offer. That morning during breakfast you were informed by Remus that he would be joining you.

“You were asked to chaperone as well?” You asked with suspiciously. By the redness of his ears Remus appeared to be flustered by your intense gaze. 

“Well no, not really.” He admitted awkwardly. “I thought I would join you so you would have some company.” He gave you a weak smile.

“Remus I would love that.” You answered honestly. “Besides, you promised to bring me to the shop that sells that delicious chocolate you always have.” You teased. 

***

The journey into Hogsmeade was....interesting to say the least. You and Remus were in a carriage with three students, all boys: Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom. While all three of them were delightful company, you were afraid that coming off as too friendly with Remus in front of them would cause confusion and rumors. You had to remain professional, and it seemed Remus thought the same, for he kept a light conversation going with Neville while Dean and Seamus discussed where they would go first. Upon arriving in the village, all three of the boys dashed out of the carriage and were off exploring the nearest sweets shop. There were many places to visit and you felt just as excited as the students of Hogwarts.

“I want to show you this shop first, if that’s alright.” Remus stopped in front of a shop called Zonko’s.

“Zonko’s? What is it?” You asked. 

“A joke shop. One me and my friends used to come to all the time when we were in school.” There was an obvious hint of mischief in his eyes as he said this.  ‘

“Lets go then.” You absentmindedly grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the busy shop.

***

Your first trip to the village of Hogsmeade had been successful. Inside Zonko’s you found Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan stocking up on fake wands and dung bombs. You had to stifle a laugh at the look on their faces when they looked up and saw you and Remus. Next you were introduced to butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks where you ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione. You and Remus let them be while you chatted over the delicious drink. The last shop you went to before going back to your chaperone duties was Honeydukes sweets shop. You couldn’t believe the amount of sweets there were. Remus had laughed and said you truly were a kid in a candy store. Remus purchased five more bars of chocolate, while you bought 3 chocolate bars, 2 sugar quills, a stack of cauldron cakes, one chocolate frog, and enough of Drooble’s Best Blowing gum for your entire class.

 The rest of the afternoon was spent on a bench outside the owl post. A draft of chilly air hit you, sending shivers up your spine. You rubbed your arms up and down and drew your jacket closer to your body. This action hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You’re cold. Here, take my coat.” Remus shook of his jacket and ignored your protests before sliding it over your shoulders. It was much too large for you, but it was warm, and it smelled like him. You looked up at him to see that he was already staring, a look of adoration in his eyes. You were thankful for the chill air because your cheeks turned a dark crimson color. Remus opened to speak more than once but nothing came out. It was like he was stuck in a trance. It wasn’t until a fourth year girl, Maria Bluebell, who came to inform you both that she was feeling ill, that he finally broke his gaze. 

“I think it’s about time we headed out, don’t you think Professor Redd?” You slipped off his jacket and quickly handed it back to him before Maria could notice.

“I think that would be a good idea.” You shared a look with Remus before heading off to gather the students.

***

You rounded up the students while Remus assisted Maria into one of the carriages. He decided to sit with her to make sure she was alright on the way back to the castle. Once back, the students piled into the Great Hall, spreading out their purchases and excitedly explaining them to their friends. You had gotten back from bringing Maria back to Ravenclaw Tower when you ran into Remus, who was exiting the hall. You both looked at each other awkwardly. 

“Would you care to join me for a cup of tea, Rosalina?” He asked nervously. 

“I-well you see, um I,-” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before clearly stating,

“I’m sorry Remus, but not now. I have a lesson to prepare for Monday, but thank you, honestly.” You felt bad for rejecting Remus, but he said he understood, even if his eyes told another story. 

While sat in your office you couldn’t help but feel regretful. You wanted to be in the company of Remus, but your feelings for him had grown, and you were scared. Shaking your head clear of any thoughts of him, you grabbed a few pieces of parchment and wrote out the weeks lesson plan. Though despite your best efforts, your feelings for Remus bubbled to the surface, flooding your mind, and distracting you from reality.

[downstvged]

s u r v e y  :    p e y t o n    p e l l e g r i n o.

what’s this? there’s something paper clipped to the page... a stick of juicy fruit. how thoughtful.

basic information

FULL NAME: jamie claverton  peyton pellegrino PRONUNCIATION: PAY-ton pell-eh-GREEN-oh MEANING: noble, royal REASONING: his kidnapper father said he always looked like a peyton. strong, wise, dignified. NICKNAME(S): pey, pellegrino, pillsbury ( monty ), sparkles ( tess ), etc. PREFERRED NAME(S): peyton BIRTH DATE: july 24, 2000 AGE: 18 ZODIAC: leo GENDER: cismale PRONOUNS:  he/him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual NATIONALITY:  american. ETHNICITY: italian-american. his father’s got pellegrino pride.

background

BIRTH PLACE: milton, delaware  HOMETOWN:  milton, delaware.  his dad said he was born in ohio. everyone thinks he’s from cali, when they meet him. SOCIAL CLASS:  upper-middle. FATHER: presley claverton. matthew pellegrino. fire chief. 52. west ham’s most eligible and charming single father. and peyton’s best friend. faceclaim. MOTHER: theresa claverton.  francesca milluzzo. peyton never knew her. his dad said she deserted them shortly before his first birthday. SIBLING(S): none. BIRTH ORDER: first of three. the clavertons needed to fill the void. first and only. PET(S): none. but he adores anything fluffy. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES:  n/a PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: n/a. he’s always been too scared of his own shadow to ask a girl out. ARRESTS?: squeaky clean. PRISON TIME?: not unless you count double-shifts delivering pizzas.

occupation & income

SOURCE OF INCOME: works part-time as a pizza delivery boy at one of west ham’s most beloved pizza joints. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: very content, usually! people tip well and peyton enjoys the small talk. PAST JOB(S): assistant life guarding at the local pool in middle school, but that quickly ended after he had a panic attack on duty. SPENDING HABITS: peyton’s pretty frugal! his idea of a fun time is boarding around town with monty, or grabbing a scoop of ice cream at one of the local places. he’s not too big on driving, if he doesn’t have to. longboards almost everywhere. his dad’s job gets them ample cash, being fire chief, but they live modestly. pellegrino men are humble. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: his longboard. unfortunately, his anti-anxiety meds.

skills & abilities

TALENTS: deduction, longboarding, mock trial, stage lighting, studying, making people smile. he’s mario kart champion and he’ll never live that down. SHORTCOMINGS: overthinker. often, he limits himself just by thinking in circles. he... finds the good in people. assumes the best. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, and enough italian to get friendly with the kitchen staff. DRIVE?:  yes. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes. RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes, but longboards are way better. SWIM?: yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: he has a guitar and plays it decently well. sometimes he’ll hum a little tune and strum a few chords, but it’s nothing too major. PLAY CHESS?: yeah. BRAID HAIR?: ha! him? able to braid hair? he wishes. TIE A TIE?: he can double-knot his shoes. PICK A LOCK?: no.

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: noah centineo. EYE COLOR: deep hazel, primarily chocolate with pools of mossy green. HAIR COLOR: dark brown. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: wavy/curly. it does what it wants, and he rarely styles it, unless it’s for a mock trial competition or a student gov event. reference. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: he has a glasses prescription but always wears his contacts. DOMINANT HAND: right. HEIGHT: 6′1. WEIGHT: 165 lbs. BUILD: lean, trim, athletic. EXERCISE HABITS: he’s co-captain of the lacrosse team with monty, so they have daily team workouts. he goes for runs a lot, and likes HIIT training. does longboarding count? it should. he’s boarded all over this town countless times ( it’s also how he chooses to deliver pizzas, when the weather’s alright. ) SKIN TONE: tanned, smooth. reference. TATTOOS: none. he can’t handle needles. PEIRCINGS: none. MARKS/SCARS: a few on his arms and legs from nasty longboarding falls. NOTABLE FEATURES: his wild hair. million-watt smile. USUAL EXPRESSION: peaceful, welcoming. CLOTHING STYLE: reference.  leather bracelets, cuffed jeans, lots of solid colored and colorblocked tees. when he dresses up for mock trial, the girls kinda swoon. boy looks dashing in a suit. has a glasses prescription but always wears contacts. his dad says he looks sharper that way ( but it’s actually because, with glasses, he looks too similar to the claverton family. )  beat up chuck taylors, kind of untied on purpose. he’s got that whole loosely kept together, sleep deprived look down pat. JEWELRY: leather bracelets. sometimes he’ll wear a thin chain. ALLERGIES: n/a. BODY TEMPERATURE: the standard. he runs a little warmer than most. DIET: lots of pizza. mountain dew. juicy fruit gum’s basically a whole other food group. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: n/a. he can be a bit jumpy, sometimes, if he’s feeling on edge. his left pinky kind of clicks funny when he makes a fist, from when he broke his hand his freshman year.

psychology

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good. TEMPERAMENT: phlegmatic. ELEMENT: earth. MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: anxiety disorder. SOCIABILITY: very approachable. warm. kindhearted. there’s a reason he’s the one tasked with getting class dues, as class treasurer. there’s a reason why he leads the lacrosse team. EMOTIONAL STABILITY:  typically very levelheaded. his anxiety can make that fluctuate, though. PHOBIA(S): having another panic attack in public. he hasn’t had one in front of anyone besides monty in a year. ADDICTION(S): does juicy fruit qualify? DRUG USE: none. very straight-edge.  ALCOHOL USE:  occasional, as much as you’d expect. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not at all.

mannerisms

QUIRKS: peyton shoves his hands into his pockets when he’s nervous. he always looks for monty or tess in a crowded room, to get grounded. whenever he wears a flannel or a sweatshirt, he always pushes the sleeves up midway to his elbows. HOBBIES: lacrosse, longboarding, mock trial, reading, parkour ( a phase in freshman year ). watching football games with his dad. trying out weird recipes. HABITS: biting the edge of pens. turning his head to the side when he’s listening. offering people pieces of his lunch until he realizes there’s nothing left for him. NERVOUS TICKS: not knowing what to do with his hands. trailing off. looking at the ground. laughing. counting his own fingers. biting the tip of his tongue. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: he genuinely wants to see people happy. he wants everything to run smoothly and willingly along.  FEARS: his meds will stop working. he’ll have a panic attack in front of his classmates, who are supposed to see him as calm, collected, put together. he’ll never get to know more about his mom. it bugs him. POSITIVE TRAITS: benevolent, bona fide, conscientious, suave, tenderhearted. NEGATIVE TRAITS: anxious, critical, restless, self-limiting, yielding. SENSE OF HUMOR: puns. wit. a lot of inside jokes with tess and monty. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: not really! he’s more likely to say frick or flipping than anything bad. CATCHPHRASE(S): “ oh shit ! ” & “ dude ! ” & “ what’s good ? ”

favorites

ACTIVITY: longboarding, hands down. ANIMAL: he’s got a super soft spot for rabbits. BEVERAGE: mountain dew or 7-up. BOOK: growing up, he loved the percy jackson series. CELEBRITY: stephen hawking. COLOR: green. DESIGNER: designer? he guesses, like... is gucci the right answer? he’s not really plugged in to that. FOOD: does juicy fruit count? FLOWER: he’s learning more about flowers, but he thinks sunflowers are pretty nice. kelly’s teaching him more about those. GEM: tiger’s eye. HOLIDAY: christmas. that’s when the famous pellegrino slutty brownies surface. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: longboarding !! MOVIE: original star trek. MUSICAL ARTIST: saint motel. QUOTE/SAYING: “ we’re dead !  we survived but we’re dead ! ” �� dash, the incredibles. SCENERY: rolling hills. sunset. SCENT: cinnamon. SPORT: lacrosse. SPORTS TEAM: in connecticut, he’s surprised he hasn’t been vilified for being a chicago bears fan. but he and his dad spent some time there, and going to those games became a weekly tradition. they watch them now, and it’s like a little piece of their story. TELEVISION SHOW: saturday night live, honestly. WEATHER: that golden-hour sunshine, just before sunset. lukewarm. mid-60′s. VACATION DESTINATION: hawaii. he’s always wanted to longboard down those colossal volcano-side roads.

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: go into tech/lighting design for broadway. ask cassandra pressman out, for real. GREATEST FEAR: his dad won’t be able to function without him in west ham next fall. he’ll panic in front of people when he needs to seem strong. MOST AT EASE WHEN: he’s with his squad, the belugas. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: he’s allowed the time to overthink. when his dad doesn’t come home from his fire shift on time. when things don’t feel right. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: the west ham mock trial team won the state championship this spring. BIGGEST REGRET: he never pressured his dad more about finding his mother. MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: he had a panic attack in the middle of his treasurer speech freshman year. someone pulled the fire alarm right as he couldn’t breathe. to this day, peyton has no idea who that was, but he’s so friggin’ thankful. BIGGEST SECRET: his biggest secret’s not even known to him yet. matthew pellegrino isn’t his father; he’s his kidnapper. peyton pellegrino’s fake. doesn’t exist. TOP PRIORITIES: having monty and tess’s backs. taking care of his dad, since he’s still reeling from peyton’s mom leaving almost 17 years ago. bringing the lacrosse team to the state championships. making sure every single thing he does for west ham high’s theatre department is flawless: making art on that stage. finding out how to... conquer this anxiety. finding out how to muster up enough courage to make a move before it’s too late.

[lalka-laski]

Are you disrespectful to a lot of people? Not at all. In fact, I often give respect to people who don’t deserve it.  When was the last time someone called you pretty? Yesterday  Do you like the color pink? Do you know me?!  Are you in your pajamas at the moment? I wish. But sadly, I’m at work. On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? Glenn’s sister, who will be my sister-in-law in a few years anyways so it’s not far-fetched 

Doesn’t it annoy you when couples post things to each other’s wall on Facebook that are all mushy and gross and NO ONE CARES? I don’t know many couples at my age who still do that. But even if I did, I can’t imagine I’d spend that much energy caring.  Does your cell phone have a case on it? What color? Mhm. It’s floral and clear, so you can see the rose gold color of my phone  So what do you think about Chris Brown now? He can eat shit. That man doesn’t deserve peace, let alone a fucking career.  What was the last song you had on repeat? Mmm... honestly I’m not sure. Something from Imploding the Mirage I’m sure.  Ever kissed someone your parents hated? Not hated, but disliked I’m sure.  What do you think about your cousins? I have three actual first cousins and I’ve always wished I was closer to them. I know I could take initiative but it requires a mutual effort.  Do you think the name Sage is for boys or girls? I guess it could be gender-neutral. ANY name could be, actually.  Do you have a favorite radio station? I haven’t listened to the radio in AGES Do you ever save things as a draft or a note in your phone so you can remember them later? I have WAY too many random notes in my phone. But I can’t bring myself to delete most of them. They’re memories, no matter how strange!  Do you use Sharpies often? Hardly What didn’t you get for Christmas that you asked for? I don’t ask for anything for Christmas anymore  Any weird fears? People always think my fear of ladybugs is weird? I don’t understand how other people don’t find them disgusting!  Would you say that you’ve become more of a slut or less of a slut since a year ago? I was in a committed relationship then and I’m in a committed relationship now.  Are you older or younger than most of your friends? Mmm.. most of us are within a year of each other, so I don’t really count that as an age difference.  Does anyone you know exaggerate a lot? Myself, but Glenn might have me beat on that. Him and his entire family are kinda notorious for that.  What are your plans for your next birthday? My birthday was a few months ago so I have a loooong time to plan for that How are your nails? I just got them done two days ago so they’re great. I went for an autumnal mauve.  Your most recent ex says he/she hates you, you say? On what grounds?  How is life going for you right now? It’s pretty great. I’ve come to a few key realizations lately that I think are necessary for moving myself forward. I’m happy about them.  Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? I don’t think so. Have you met anyone new lately? Besides clients at work. nope  What color are your eyes? Green Look to your right what do you see? A box of tissues and a bottle of hand sanitizer  Are you drifting away from your best friend? No way  Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? Not at all. He’s irrelevant to me but I’d still wish him the best.  If someone you wanted before came back now, would you take them? That’s happened to me countless times before and it’s never as gratifying as I hope. If it happened now, I obviously wouldn’t since I’m dating my soulmate.  If given the chance, go back to fix a past regret or take a million dollars? I’m happy with where I am in life and all the lessons I’ve learned that brought me here. Plus I could REALLY use some money so hand it over!!

What’s more important, your pride or your life? My life I guess? I’m not sure how to answer this. Would the last person who texted you hurt you? Not intentionally Your ex is sitting next to you with their new partner, what do you do? Why so many ex-related questions? Anyways, I wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you have a reason to smile right now? Many!  Have you ever had to choose between two people? Yes  Last thing you drank was? Coffee  What did you do last night? I chilled on the couch until it was time to relocate to chilling in bed ‘till I fell asleep. It was a WILD night, lemme tell ya Where is your mother? At home, I believe. Or out running errands. She’s probably at HomeGoods... ha  Have you had sex today? Nope. Not only have I been at work since 6:45 am, but I’m on my period. So that activity will not be in today’s itinerary.  Are you afraid of losing a boyfriend/girlfriend? The thought terrifies me but Glenn assures me it will never happen  Do you have siblings? 2 sisters who are more like my best friends Last person, you talked to in person? The mail lady  Do you think someone’s thinking about you? Possibly What made you the happiest today? My coffee has been delicious. Also the fact that it’s Saturday has me in good spirits!  What is your hair looking like right now? It’s clipped up, but it looks pretty decent I guess Is tomorrow gonna be a good day? Yes! Glenn & I are gonna have an ice-cream date, then come home and spend the day cozy watching Sunday football!  Are you currently wanting any piercings? Never Are you looking forward to something as of right now? I’m gonna have a pretty fun & relaxed weekend beginning in roughly 2.5 hours so... yes!  Do you swallow gum when you’re done with it? Sometimes

[historybee-keeper]

what’s eternal about love // lafayette x reader

a/n: heyyyy. this is the start of a two part story, maybe three part story?? hope you enjoy. please, please, please SEND IN REQUESTS MY INBOX IS DRYER THAN THE GODDAMN MOJAVE. 

SPECIAL NOTE: for the sake of the story, Henriette, and Anastasie, Lafayettes first two eldest children were never born and Georges was the first born.  

warnings: cheating, cursing, a pinch of smut

word count: 4,018

masterlist

February 12, 1779

You knew about the whores that roamed the rebel camps at night looking to satisfy a man’s needs. You had been told by the ladies that would meet up for tea every Saturday at noon, where gossip and new stories whirled through the air each week. It worried you, to think that your dear Lafayette would give up his fidelity in America when he had a family to come home to. 

But you also knew your Lafayette. His heart was too big and full of passion for you that he wouldn’t dare do such a shameful thing. He honored your reputation, and you knew that he would do whatever he could to keep it intact, not wanting you to become a story that one of the ladies told when conversing over tea and fresh pastries.

When Lafayette had left the country to serve for the rebel cause, you didn’t know how to feel. One side of you wanted to shun him for abandoning you without notice, but the other side wanted to take even more pride in his name, proud to say that your husband was going to help win the war for the Patriots. When he comes back from his service, Lord knows when that will be, you knew that he will be one of the most famous men in France.

You wrote to him every day, although you knew that your letters would take months to arrive. The journal that sat on your vanity was filled with thoughts, experiences on your life as an army wife. You wanted to pass the journal on to your children so they may read what your life was like with and without your husband. 

“Miss (Y/n)!” Your maid, Jane, called out from below stairs. Both you and Lafayette despised slavery and would grant Jane her freedom in an instant, but your mother owned her, giving you no say in Janes bondage. 

You lifted your skirts as you made your way down the large steps that cascaded into the lower level of the manor, looking down to make sure you didn’t trip. 

“Do you need something, Jane?” You said as you approached the last two steps. I looked up at the entrance where I saw not only Jane but Lafayette standing by her side.  

A second couldn’t fully pass before I was already running towards Lafayette and launching myself towards him. He caught me, picking me up and lifting me up into the air, clutching me close to him. Tears slipped from my eyes as I buried my head into his chest, laughing.

Jane looked at the scene in front of her. She could see the love that radiated off them, flowing up into the air like embers. It reminded her of her own love, who was off somewhere in France. She remembers the last time they embraced each other for the last time, although he promised that there would be a next time. She could feel the same love she felt from the glow of passion emit from the couple standing in front of her. Every night, she prayed to one day unite with her love once again, so she could feel the passion that she has been deprived of.

Jane went to the kitchen to set the table for dinner, seeing that the sun had just set, leaving the couple to revel in each other embraces for the time being. 

Lafayette finally set you down gently, smiling as wide as the sky. He leaned down and swiftly kissed you, hungrily moving his mouth with yours, clutching your waist. It was the best kiss you had ever received, kissing back with the same desire. 

You both pulled away, desperate for air. You both panted, smiling sweetly to each other. Dinner went by in a flash. Lafayette filled the empty air with his endless stories of victory, defeat, and humorous times with his companions. 

One of those companions happened to be Alexander Hamilton. I had corresponded with Alexander a few times, informing me of the injury Lafayette obtained while fighting in the Battle of Brandywine. In his initial letter, he told me that if I was ever in need of a friend in America, his wife, Elizabeth would be happy to write you. 

You immediately wrote to Eliza the day you received Alexanders first letter, eager to find a friend whom she could relate to in this time of war. A couple months later, you are given a letter from Eliza, you were happy to receive your letter. The both of you corresponded for months, becoming fairly acquainted with her.   

That night you and Lafayette intimately reunited once again for the first time in four years.

March 11, 1780

You held the little baby in your arms, bundling him up in the silk cloth to protect him from the cool breeze. Georges Washington de Lafayette was born December 24, 1779. And after much debate, you finally settled on his prideful name. 

You could see Lafayette in the distance, sailing off to America once again. A single tear ran down your cheek. You smiled to him while he could still see the details of your face. Although you feared that he would depart early from this earth, you knew deep inside that he would make it out okay. 

You looked down at Georges, seeing the hope in his eyes. He had the same deep brown eyes that Lafayette had, the same black hair that coiled into tiny curls up top his head. I had a feeling that Georges would grow to be the spitting image of Lafayette. 

Georges smiled, his bare gums showing. You smiled back, reaching towards his stomach to tickle him. He laughed, his light giggle filling you with love. 

January 21, 1782

Joy overcame me as the coach came to a halt in front the manor. Paris was abuzz with revelry on the day of Lafayette’s return as a hero. You were out with your family at the Hôtel de Ville when you heard of Lafayette’s arrival. He was already home, waiting for you. 

The driver offered his hand, helping you descend from my coach. Lafayette was already outside to greet you. You ran towards him, lifting my skirts. You promptly collapsed in arms when you reached him. It felt wonderful to feel his body again, to wrap your arms around his torso. The oil-lamp street lights illuminated only a bit of the 

“Father!” Georges finally came towards you and Lafayette. Lafayette quickly bent down and snatched Georges from the ground, lifting him up into the air. Georges laughed with delight. 

Lafayette looked at Georges in wonder and confusion at how Georges knew him to be his father. He looked at you, to which you smiled sweetly.

“I told stories about you.” Lafayette smiled brightly, a tear dripping down his cheek. You spent every night, telling Georges about Lafayette, sharing every story of your husband off fighting for the liberty of thousands of people an ocean away.

You all went inside the estate, Lafayette placing his haversack in the empty chair beside your bed frame. You sensed that Georges was tired, so you brought him to his room, laying him down. He fell asleep after I sang him a lullaby.   

Seeing it already late at night, you saw the perfect opportunity. You crept into your room, where you saw Lafayette already hunched over his desk, writing. I closed the door behind you, locking it.  

You woke up from the growing warmth of the sun on your bare back. Your eye lids flutter as you yawned. You smiled, and then you turned around quickly to see ruffled sheets instead of your dear Gilbert. You frowned, hoping that he hadn’t gone off to work so soon. 

You sat, putting your hands on your back and stretching. The white sheets fell to your waist, revealing your bare back to the door. You smiled as the remnants of last night flooded into your brain.

You began to gather up your hair, preparing to put it into a high queue. You grabbed a little invention of yours: a long ribbon tied into a knot with a big loop to wrap around the hair. You showed the fellow ladies at the tea circle, to which they laughed, saying the entire idea and style was insane and would never go into fashion. 

“You don’t want to go around town looking that, do you? If I may be frank, you’ll look like a peasant along with those rags of yours,” She spat. You looked down at the clothes you were wearing, comparing your simple attire to her extravagant one. A lady leaned forward, her face full of sympathy for the insult.

“Dear, all she is saying is that you should look your rank.” I was left alone with my thoughts for a while, thinking about what the older women had said. 

I never left the house with a high queue after that day, although I still did wear the same skirts I loved.

The door opened with a creek, announcing the presence of the person who opened it. I turned my head around, my hair still in hand, to see Jane, who had come with a tray of fruit.

“Oh, please excuse me, Miss (Y/n),” she said, keeping her head down. 

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Jane,” You said as she set the tray down on the bench at the foot of the bed. She rushed out of the room, leaving you to get myself ready. You wrapped the ribbon around your hair, looping it around till it held in place. You slipped on a chemise and walked over the bowl of fruit and saw the fresh berry mixed together.

Fresh fruit was very hard to come by throughout the commons in France, only some of high ranking could afford the delicious food. You tasted the sweetness of the strawberries and the bitterness of the blackberries as you ate. You emptied the bowl, setting it back on the tray gently.

After you finished the fruit, you called Jane back up to help you get dressed for the day. As she tightened your corset, you gripped the bed post to steady yourself self. You've worn a corset since you were fourteen and you still haven't gotten used to it, the chamber taking your breath away with every cinch.

You put on a simple, dark forest green dress and began to fix your hair. You took a piece from each side of your face and pulled them back, tying it with a ribbon and leaving the rest of your hair down. You didn't favor the flamboyant wigs the women would wear in France, and instead opted for the more subtle, simple look of your own hair.

You made your way downstairs and only saw Jane, Lafayette nowhere to be seen. Jane was in the kitchen, baking her famous creamed pear tarts. You could smell her baking from a mile always as the smell was so strong.  

"Jane, where is Gilbert?" you asked. Jane looked up from the dough she was kneading. Flour graced her cheek as she wiped the sweat off with the back of her hand. 

"He went out Miss (Y/n). I do not know where." You frowned slightly in disappointment. You planned to spend the day with Lafayette after being separated from him for so long. You knew that he was still busy with politics, but it would be nice if he just took a break occasionally.

You grabbed your magenta colored cloak and draped it over your shoulders, securing the clasp in the front. You put on your lace gloves and smooth out your dress, preparing to go out.

"Jane, I'm going to the market, I'll be back before supper!" You called out from the front room. You opened the door and was immediately greeted with the sound of horse hooves trotting on the cobblestone road, and the birds chirping.

Instead of riding in a coach, you decided to walk, wanting to enjoy sounds and things around you. You went to the market, looking around for jewelry, ribbons, and new dresses. You always found that the most beautiful jewelry and finest clothes came from the people who never get enough sales. They always have the most time because the demand for their product is so low, that they always spent to most time to perfect it.

When you approached the market, you saw it full as always. Chickens clucked and pigs snorted. Buyers could be heard bargaining with sellers, and the wheels turning underneath the wagons could be heard coming closer and passing you. There was something about the market that always excited you. New things appeared every week and you couldn't wait to get your hands on them.

You stopped at a small stand of jewelry and admired the blue stones that caught your eye. Each jewel was attached to a silver chain. There were lockets of all shapes, all of them engraved with an intricate and ornate design. You traced your finger over one in particular: a crème colored satin choker with a ruby bauble attached to it. The lady who stood behind the counter watched as you eyed it closely.

"It's a real stone, by the way," She spoke in her native Scottish accent, her voice harsh. You picked up the choker, shifting it in the sun to where the light reflected off of the gem. The lady was the about same height as you, only taller about an inch. She seemed like a poor commoner, her dress covered in dirt, and her hair unkempt.

"Where did you get it?" You asked, still looking at the ruby.

"My brother gave it to me. He works in the mines and managed to hide some in his boot. Most people don't believe me cause I'm a commoner selling a gem at such a high price." Her story seemed believable.

"I'll take it," You smiled, setting it down and bringing out your coin pouch. Fake gem or not, you would still cherish it as if it were. You gave her the money and watched her face brighten at the handful of coins. She looked at you and nodded her head as you took the choker and put it in your pocket along with your pouch.

You looked around some more until it got late, the sun starting to touch the fields in the distance. You began to walk home before it got too late, not wanting Lafayette to worry.

"I'm home!" You called out. Jane passed by you, grabbing your cloak and hanging in the closet.

"Gilbert?" You called once you got to the dining room. When you entered, you found Lafayette hunched, his hands leaning on the back of the chair in front of him. You smiled, his back facing you. He looked troubled, which troubled you. Your smile faltered as you walked up to him from behind and placed your hands on his shoulders. You could feel him tense underneath your touch.

"Is something the matter, Gilbert?" You asked.

"Uh, yes, actually." He stood up straight, taking a step back. You cocked your head to the side, somewhat confused.

"What troubles you?" You asked, stepping closer to him. He took another step backward, his back almost touching the wall behind him.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," He whispered. Your brows furrowed, confused.

"I do not understand. Why are you apologizing? You have done nothing wron-"

"I have made a terrible mistake," He interrupted you. You could hear his voice start to quiver. You shook your head, tears threatening to fall.

"What did you do?" You asked, regaining your composure and the tears fading away. He hesitated.

"What. Did. You. Do?" You demanded, your voice sharp and rising in tone.

"I had an affair," He said quietly, his head down in shame. You were in shock, the words hitting you like a bullet. Your brain immediately filled with questions while you body boiled with anger.

"When?" You asked, your eyes not meeting his own.

"While in America." You looked at the table, eyeing the wine glass standing still next to the many plates and bowls stacked on top of each other. No tears escaped your eyes and instead filled with rage. You look at the glass nearest to you and began tracing the rim with your finger.

Then, your anger boiled over.

You quickly picked up the glad and threw it at Lafayette, missing him and hitting the wall instead. Your fists clenched and unclenched, your nails creating crescent moons in your skin. Your chest rose and fell with every deep breath that you took.

"How could you do this?!" You shouted at him.

"My love, please, forgive me!" He pleaded, tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

"How could you do this to me. To us?!" You put a finger on your chest, pointing to yourself. "We have a child, Lafayette!"

"I know, I just-"

"You just what? You just forgot that you already had a wife and child waiting for you at home while you were being intimate with another woman?" Lafayette stood there. His mouth opened, but no words came out of his mouth. Your shoulders relaxed, your mouth agape as you came to a realization.

"You... you forgot about us?" You whispered. Lafayette looked down at the ground again, unable to make the situation any better. Tears ran down his face as he clutched the drapes behind him.

You began to lash out, knocking the plates off the table and throwing the glasses at the wall behind Lafayette. Your chest heaved and the tears just started to fall. You looked at him, your glare piercing his soul. You looked at the ground, seeing the glass surrounding your feet. You turned around and began to walk away when Lafayette spoke, bringing you to a halt.

"I'm sorry, my love. I still love you, (Y/n), and I made a mistake." You took a deep breath, not bothering to turn back around.

"I made a mistake too, my dear. My mistake... was loving you." You could hear his breath hitch as you continued walking. Jane walked passed you with a bowl to carry the broken glass in, but before she could, you stopped her.

"Wait, no. Let him do it. It's the only mess he can clean up." With that you moved on, heading up the stairs and into your room where you began to pack your belongings.

You were greeted by a boy at the front gate, standing straight and patiently. He smiled at you, to which you smiled back. You held Georges hand, practically dragging him because his little legs couldn't keep up with your slightly long strides.

"Hello there Miss," He said, tipping his hat.

"Hello, could you please inform Washington that the Lafayettes are here to see him?" You said, smiling. You spoke in your best English, a language that you had studied yourself. Your voice was still drenched with a French accent, however.  He nodded, going through the gate.

You looked down at George, who made eye contact with you and smiled. He hadn't asked why we hopped on a boat and left suddenly, and I hoped he wouldn't for a few years. His big, brown eyes looked at me innocently.

The gate opened again after a few minutes, and there stood the General George Washington.!A wide smile graced his face as he looked down at you. You didn't expect him to be so tall, noticing how you had to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him.

"Miss (Y/n), how lovely it is to see you," He said. You smiled.

"You too, Mr. Washington," You said, bowing your head. He looked over your shoulder, most likely searching for Lafayette in the background.

"Where is Lafayette?" He asked. Your smile faltered.

"He is not here, with me." Washington looked back at you his brows began to furrow.

"I do not understand, miss. Why are you traveling alone?" You looked down.

"He had an affair, Mr. Washington, while here in America. You must understand that I had to leave France, for the mention of his name is too great. I'm sorry for showing up unannounced, but I need a place to stay. All I'm asking is for a place here until I feel that I am ready to return," You managed to stay. You finally met his eyes. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes held much concern. Grief overcame him quickly as the information processed in his brain.

"I am truly sorry, Miss (Y/n). Of course, you could stay, for the meantime," He said softly. Georges finally appeared from his hiding spot behind you, catching the Generals eye. He knelt down on one knee to Georges level, his arm resting on his knee.

"And who is this?" He asked. He watched the shy boy peer out from behind you. You moved out of the way to fully expose Georges, pushing him closer to Washington.

"This is Georges Washington de Lafayette. Georges say 'hello' to Mr. Washington." Georges looked down shyly and waved his hand instead of actually speaking, Washington's face was indescribable. It held so many emotions at once.

"You named him after me?" He said, looking up at you.

"The one and only," You said, making him chuckle. He looked back down at Georges and smiled, tipping his hat to him. Georges smiled slightly, running back behind you, making the both of you laugh lightly at the young boy's behavior.

Washington opened the gate more and allowed you in, grabbing your trunk. You followed him on the gravel path, looking down when you say the eyes of slaves gazing at you. He promised to show you around the large estate in the morning, heading straight towards the mansion itself. Your hand held Georges', pulling him along.

 Georges looked around at the sites around him, all the extra trees and plants somewhat overwhelming him. He was especially looking at the people and kids working in the fields and tending to the gardens, wondering why they weren't playing like he does. His eyes landed on one young girl, who was the same age as him. The girl was walking with her mother. They walked past each other, their eyes locked on each other. Both of their heads turned around as they passed each other.

You finally made it to the house and entered, being greeted by Washington's wife.

You immediately felt her eyes look you up and down but landed on your large belly that was poorly concealed by the thick woolen cloak you were wearing.

"George, darling, who is this?" She asked, giving you a smile.

"Martha, this is (Y/n), Lafayette's wife," He said, motioning to you. You bowed your head, smiling softly at her.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Washington."

"As with you, (Y/n). Your husband has done many wonderful things," She said smiling softly at you. George's smile faltered along with yours.

"She is going to be living here for a while." Martha turned to her husband.

"Oh? On what account?" She asked. George hesitated, so instead, you responded.

"My husband has been unfaithful, so your husband has allowed me to live here until I feel it necessary to return to France," You bluntly said. Martha's eyes held sympathy and pity for you.

"Of course," she said turning and walking back into the house.

"Thank you, Mr. Washington," You said. He smiled softly at me, bowing his head.

"You're quite welcome, Miss (Y/n). Please, let me show you and Georges to your room." You walked along with him, Georges’ hand in yours. The General led you are your son onto your new room, where you would start your new life. 

[24hs]

summary: When Nico dreamed about Maki's wedding she actually didn't imagine her spouse being someone else than her, but that's probably just how life is sometimes.

pairing: nicomaki [ kotomaki ]

words: 2700+

Nico has seen Maki in every situation and probably every clothing.

She can imagine her crying - unhappy - face perfectly when she closes her eyes - red eyes, the crunched nose, the trembling underlip, her glowing skin when tears are wetting her cheeks. She also sees her happy face under her lids. Glistening eyes that pull Nico into something she can’t quite put her finger on, maybe the - temporary - satisfaction Maki is living in that moment. Her gummy smile that is only visible when she beams and her red cheeks. Maki being frustrated shows in frowning and chewing on pens, while she expresses desperation through ruffling her hair and biting her lip. She’s annoyed when she curls her hands into fists and lets out an “tch” sound multiply, deadpanning.

After almost two years being exes, Nico still knows Maki’s wardrobe. She hasn’t been to her flat since then, but Maki rarely goes shopping, she knows. She doubts she has bought anything in those past 22 months.

Of course, there are Maki’s work clothes - white coats with her hospital’s name sewed in. She owns three, a regular one, another when her usual coat is being washed and the last one for emergencies. Maki likes to plan things, Nico remembers. (Even when all strings tear, Maki still won't buy more. She's too stubborn to abandon her plan, no matter how well it's working. Nico used to roll her eyes about that and she still does.)

Then, street wear. Turtlenecks in dull colors, bland red, blue and black. Classical jeans. Some T-shirts and tops as sleepwear. If you searched long enough, you could probably find also some shorts, even though Maki doesn’t like bare skin. (Nico persuaded her into buying before they broke up.) Some bikinis, expensive shoes and unworn hats are findable, too.

Maki has a whole second wardrobe for evening wear. Since she has been attending galas for years - Nico believes her parents started dragging her to them when she was a child -, Maki owns at least two dozen dresses. Everyone who has meet her would have bet their lives that those dresses are visibly similar by color or design, but they aren’t. She’s got a rainbow out of different materials, colors and cut in her wardrobe for any event. Bright, short dresses for weddings and birthdays or any day occasion. Long dresses, their noble hems sneaking on the floor, worn with gloves covering her whole forearm.

Skirts and trousers that cost probably a few thousands of dollars, shoes with the typical red sole, necklaces and bracelets. (Ironically, Maki has never been the type to wear rings.)

Because of Maki’s second, colorful wardrobe, Nico can’t say that she’s surprised when she hears that Maki started dating Kotori after they broke up. Nico and Kotori are definitely more different than alike, starting from appearance. Maki always used to tease Nico about her height, but now she’s the smaller one in the relationship. Kotori’s light, shoulder-long hair and Nico’s almost touches her coccyx after years of growing it out. Black as a raven.

Kotori is soft and gentle, and when she was younger she swallowed her feelings. She has learned how to open up to Maki, though.

Nico is hard and rude and never learned how to do that.

What Maki and her had was rough, in a good - hot - way, of course, but they were always a mess. Like love is when it’s the first one. (For Nico, also the true, the only love she wanted to experience.)

She guesses Maki doesn’t feel quite the same as her when she reads the invitation to her and Kotori’s wedding.

Nico clicks her pen while staring at the invitation. We’re happy to declare our- Ugh. Does she even need to go? Kotori is her friend, but Maki is her ex. That probably outweighs an old friendship. She glares at the picture of them adorning the noble, stiff paper. Maki’s eyes aren’t glistening and her gummy smile isn’t showing. An idea forms in Nico’s head, just to be pushed away by her memory of Maki hating cameras. Maki’s happy. She must be. Nico’s just interpreting things with a misted mind.

Nico sends Kotori a short message - got your invitation, I’m coming - and a second after. Congratulations, by the way.

Nico isn’t sure if she still loves Maki, but lately it has been feeling like she does. When she imagines her in front of the altar with Kotori, she can feel her fingertips turn cold and her heart burning. Or rather, with anyone. Kotori isn’t the problem.

Sometimes, when she has good news, like a raise or a random compliment from someone she isn’t close to, Nico itches to tell Maki until she remembers that she can’t anymore. Her heart falls every time, her eyes get a little bit more dead.

“Are you coming to the wedding?”, Nozomi asks her, hesitantly. “Yeah”, Nico answers, looking rather at her fingernails than at her. “Kotori is my friend. Why shouldn’t I?” 

t’s mean, Nico knows. Nozomi is the type to sugarcoat, to rip off the bandaid gently and not at once. Making her to speak out the cold truth - that it’s questionable to visit the wedding since she and Maki were a thing, were together once - is plainly cruel.

“Sorry”, Nico mutters through a pressed jaw. “I’m coming. I just don’t know what to wear yet.”

She really doesn’t. She tried to buy one online, but thoughts like “Oh, Maki’s favorite color”, “I bet Maki would love this” or “Maki wears this designer a lot” suffocated her brain until she wanted to slam her head on the keyboard.

“Do you have an escort?”

“No, I’m going alone. You’re with Eli?”

“Yeah, but we can drive there together, can’t we?”

“Sure.”

The first months before the wedding fade slowly, like gum pulled apart, but when it’s the last week, the days fly away and in the span of a blink, Saturday has come and Nico stands in the shower, getting ready. She’s glad she has a routine - shower, skincare, drying her hair, getting into her brand new red dress, make up - because this way she can distract herself, not having to think about her first - true - love marrying someone else.

Unfortunately, because the marriage takes place in some hall far away and Eli took the wheel, Nico has a lot of time to think about that while staring out of the car’s window, not really seeing the landscape hushing by.

They get greeted immediately by Umi when they arrive. “Hi, Nozomi, Eli”, she says, hugging them, “Nico.” She breathes out.

Nico nods at her. Umi has been a bit cold towards her since she and Maki broke up, which isn’t surprising, given that Umi and Maki have been friends for years and the breakup left Maki broken. (From what Nico heard. After all, she hasn’t seen her in almost two years.)

“Nico, Kotori said she wants to see you”, Umi says politely, “go up the stairs and then the third door left.” Nico blinks. “Alright, see you later.” She walks upstairs, taking every step slowly, clinging to the banister. Why on earth would Kotori want to see her?

“Nico!”, Kotori beams as Nico slowly enters the room. She takes her dress in her hands and hurries towards Nico, at least as fast as it’s possible. “You look… amazing”, Nico gulps, carefully hugging Kotori. She’s afraid to ruin her dress. “Thank you”, Kotori smiles, humble as ever. “So”, Nico mumbles, not sure what to say in the silence that laid upon them, “are you nervous?”

“Not at all. I’m marrying the love of my life”, she chuckles. Nico’s smile is thin.

“Isn’t the ceremony starting soon? Shouldn’t I get downstairs…?”, Nico asks, but Kotori shakes her head and takes her hands.

“I… want to ask you a favor”, she says, biting her lips, “I know you and Maki- parted some time ago, but can you distract her a bit?” 

ico can’t help but frown at Kotori’s choice of words. Kotori rips off the bandaid at once, quickly, but with comforting words afterwards. So this emphasis seems off. “Sure”, Nico eventually says, the word rolling off her tongue. “Why not.” She instantly remembers at least a hundred reasons why exactly she shouldn’t.

“For you, Kotori." (That’s what she tells herself.) "See you later.”

Nico knocks on the door which Maki is behind, bracing herself. She hasn’t seen her in almost two years, hasn’t heard that nasal, light voice in almost two years.

“Come in”, Maki says and Nico flinches. Fuck. She brushes the non existent wrinkles on her dress straight, straightens her back and then enters, lowering her head. She doesn’t see Maki until she lifts her head.

She immediately wishes she didn’t.

Maki looks more stunning than ever before, literally, she takes Nico’s breathes away. Nico didn’t realize she stopped breathing until her lungs seem to explode.

“Hi”, she finally croaks, clearing her throat afterwards. Maki was frozen when she saw Nico, but she seems to melt at once.

“What do you want?”, Maki huffs, her chest lowering and rising. Nico sees it with a certain, hard smugness - Maki hasn’t changed, acting cool when her mind is puzzled. “Right now? I’m pretty hungry, so”, Nico shrugs, her hands trembling, “maybe a piece of pizza or something.”

“What do you want here, Yazawa?”, she hisses back, “Is it a hobby of yours to creep on your exes?”

“Kotori wanted me to be here.” Nico leans against the now closed door. “You’re lucky to have someone so chill about your exes.”

It’s a shot into the blue, but a well aimed one. Maki flinches and the coldness in her eyes fades. “Oh my-”, Nico starts laughing because honestly, this is just too funny. She would have never guessed.

“She doesn’t know? Kotori doesn’t know we were in a relationship?”

“Because it wasn’t serious”, Maki blurts out and Nico’s laugh is suddenly suffocated. They’re both silent for a moment. Maki is visibly struggling with herself, not sure if she should take her words back or not. Her pride wins. She remains still.

“So you were lying to me?”, Nico says, falling onto a chair that’s next to Maki. Maki backs off.

“What? I’m not a liar”, she frowns, realizing too late that she went into the trap.

“So you did love me.” Nico wants to say it with a smug expression, but it only comes off empty. Maki turns around, pretending to overdo her make up.

“‘Course I did.” She stops. “We were together for a long time.”

“Then why doesn’t your financée know?”

“I worded it wrongly. It simply doesn’t matter anymore.” Nico hums, overplaying the hole in her chest that keeps ripping bigger with every word Maki spits.

“You know, we never talked about what happened.”

“It’s because we never fucking talked, honey”, Maki laughs, bitterly, and the way she turns the usually lovely name into something that mocks her disgusts Nico.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Not mine.”

“Still lying to yourself, I see.”

“Get lost, Yazawa”, Maki growls.

“Forget it.” Nico changes the position in her chair, crossing her legs. “I like it here. It’s comfy.”

Maki sighs. “Whatever. Just don’t annoy me.”

Nico watches her careful, tiny movements while perfecting her face. (Not that there is room for much improvement, Nico thinks.)

“You know”, Nico starts again, “I never wanted to take that job abroad.” Maki’s hands freeze.

“Then why did you? We broke up over this job.” Her voice is calm, but Maki’s finger tremble. She lays them into her lap and turns around, locking eyes with Nico.

“You…”, Nico bites her lip, “When I first mentioned it, you didn’t seem to care at all. I guess I wanted to see if you did if i left.”

“I did”, Maki simply answers. “I did care about my feelings. That’s why I wanted to quit the long distance relationship.”

“Now I’m here.”

They both freeze. Nico closes her eyes. Shit. “Excuse me?”, Maki narrows her eyes. 

What do you mean?”

“I mean”, Nico stands up, collecting her courage, and takes a step forward. Maki stays still, but Nico would bet it’s only her pride holding her back.

“Don’t marry Kotori. Run away with me.”

Yes, Nico knows Maki perfectly well. She has seen her in every situation.

Red eyes, crunched nose, trembling lips.

“Are you”, she breathes in, brows furrowed, “fucking insane, Nico?”

Nico doesn’t answer.

“What are you trying to do?”, she hisses, “ruin my wedding? Playing with my feelings?”

“No, I’m trying to save the rest of your life”, Nico says, taking Maki’s hand. Maki doesn’t pull it back and Nico's courage flutters in her chest. “You’re not happy, Maki, I know you." She bites on her lips when Maki lowers her gaze. “Tell me you want to be with Kotori and I will leave you alone.”

Maki's hand trembles in hers when she lets go. Nico feels like she's been ripped off her.

“Please”, Maki’s voice breaks, “go now, Nico. The wedding is going to start soon.”

Nico wants to sit in the last row, but because her friends are sitting in the first, she falls down on the seat next to Eli. The church is almost full, she's the last one to arrive. (Besides the brides, of course.)

"Is everything okay?", Eli whispers, and for a horrible moment Nico thinks she's talking about Maki and her until she remembers that no one knows and that Eli is referring to her initially checking on Kotori.

"Yes, everything's fine", Nico mumbles back. "Everything's just perfect." Eli doesn't hear the bitter tone in Nico's voice.

"Minami Kotori, will you have Nishikino Maki to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony; will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only for her so long as you both shall live?"

"I will." Kotori beams, brushing her thumbs over Maki's hands. They're standing face to face - with her shoes Maki is as tall as her -, and look at each other. Seemingly seeing nothing else.

"And you, Nishikino Maki, will you have Minami Kotori, to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony; will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only for her so long as you both shall live?"

Maki's eyes flinch to Nico's direction and back to Kotori so quickly Nico isn't sure if she only imagined it. Maki squeezes Kotori's hands, lightly to the others, but to Nico she seems clinging.

"I will."

Nico has seen Maki in every clothing, but now she's just afraid she won't see it ever again.

Epilogue

"Maki, come back to bed", Kotori purrs, and then changes to pouting at once when Maki shakes her head.

"In a second", she says, "I still need to brush my teeth."

"Hurry!", Maki hears her when she closes the door after her. She shambles in front of the mirror and shuts her eyes.

Married.

To a second love.

She mechanically takes her toothbrush.

Marriage lasts forever.

Maki lowers her gaze when she sees her red eyes, crunched nose so her lip won't start trembling.

They lay in bed, together, but it doesn't feel like they're united.

"Hey, Kotori", Maki breathes, "do you believe in first love?" Kotori blinks.

"Huh? Of course I do. Your my first love."

And, then:" Do you, Maki?"

Maki stares at the ceiling, trying to blink the silhouette that keeps coming up in her mind away. It's not working.

"Yeah, I think I do."

[ink-consequential]

Ink Consequential: Autumn 2017

Home

Jana A

When you ask me what it’s like where you’re from, my tongue stumbles against the words. I’m unable to understand the question.

Do you mean, what it’s like in my childhood bedroom where my walls are painted pink and yellow and my stuffed animals have been discarded to the top shelves? It was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, and I miss my bed dearly. No one in my family would remember to knock before opening the door to tell me that it’s time to eat or to check if I have enough blankets or to ask me about my day.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the house I was raised in where the stones are colored with age and my grandmother’s garden spreads like the gardens of Eden? Full of life, full of noise, full of love, full of family. Each apartment is a foreign country, but my grandmother and uncle and aunt and cousins were frequent travellers. There was always food to be shared; there were always loud arguments to be had, blaring in my mother tongue.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the city I loved and hated? The traffic is always awful and obnoxious men throw “compliments” like grenades, but it has the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen. The dusk makes everything golden: the old white stone buildings, the cracked pavements, even your own skin will glow with the day’s last remaining rays of sunshine. Downtown, people sell used books on the sidewalk. They sell brightly colored spices in glass jars, and the doorways of those little shops always smell like a feast. I miss the call to prayer, taking over everything for just a minute, five times a day. I miss the music they play in coffee shops, violins and heartbroken sighs that are somehow always full of hope. I think the children in my city all have the world’s brightest eyes and most mischievous smiles. Sometimes they will try to sell you roses or gum or bitter chocolate and you should always refuse. Sometimes old men or women in my city will invite you in for a cup of tea, and you should always accept. The deep wrinkles in their brown skin seem as though they might gather dust, as though they have been forgotten for hundreds of years. You could live to be a thousand and you would not have know half of the long lives they have lead. They have seen the world pause its rotation and turn the other way. If you start to smell smoke, you should pause and turn the other way.

Do you mean, what’s it like to have this passport? What’s it like to live in this country with its imaginary borders drawn on our behalf with an invader’s pen? What’s it like to see the barren deserts and urban crawling cities and little villages around the olive tree fields and know that it’s all home? Well, I always complain about the weather, but I wouldn’t prefer any other climate. We are millions and millions of people, some of us who have nothing, but we collectively chose to open our doors for people in need.

It’s a lot like a warm embrace. It’s a lot like you.

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Keep reading for poetry, short fiction, and more!

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Our Goodbye

Elise Alarpy

I cannot hold onto you, You are footprints on the sand. Fleeting and washed away, I hope you understand.

I loved you so fiercely, More than you could know. But I must give you up now, It's time to let you go.

You are nothing but a memory, A wound that cannot heal. Time took you too soon from me, But what we had was real.

I feel your loss so keenly, My heart is a phantom limb. The world has lost its colour, And now everything is dim.

But I know I must move on, There are battles to be won. I am a wilting flower, Slowly blooming in the sun.

Despite how much I miss you, It is time to say goodbye. Just know that you are in my thoughts, And no one loved you more than I.

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A Salesman’s Game

Esther C

The tornado sirens were blaring across the parking lot, but she wasn't afraid; it was Wednesday. The last sounds echoed against the storefront in time with the twinkling fairy lights in the window. The door dinged when an elderly woman walked in, supporting herself with a cane.

She greeted the customer with a plastered-on smile, adding just enough crinkle to her eyes to make it seem genuine to older eyes. They exchanged pleasantries, and she left the woman to shop.

The game had begun.

She offered assistance in any way that she could. Some things were easy to convince the woman to buy, especially when she whisked things away to the checkout counter before the lady had a chance to second-guess herself.

The game was about fear.

Fortunately for her paycheck, the elderly were often easy marks. Buy the candles, she'd suggest. You'd hate to be caught without light in a power outage like the one that happened last year. Some took more convincing, but most were happy to follow the suggestion.

The game was about doubt.

Winter's coming up here pretty soon; are you sure you have enough blankets? You know how heaters like to go out at the worst possible moment, and fireplaces can only do so much.

The game was about influence.

Now this, this was the fun part of the game: it was where all of the pieces landed on the same square and affected the other decisions. This was the element that changed with every mark. Once the fear and doubt are planted, then the player knows that they have influence. There's a sale going on if you get just half a pound more of sugar; it'll only cost a few more cents overall. Reaching out for the canister, obeying the command to wait to dish it out, but not moving to put it back.

The game was about patience.

A beat or two pass, and the player stands a little straighter. She mentally urges the lady to get the half pound more, gently shaking the scoop to level it out, the sound of the sugar filling the silence.

You'd better make it an extra pound while it's on sale, the woman says.

She smiles and acquiesces.

The game had been won.

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On Divorcing My Father

Katherine Sorensen

Do you see my father over there? He is the man his daughter mourns, the memory of a superhero, the man she loves in vain.

His pride is too loud, he can’t hear the sound of his daughter telling him that he broke her heart.

But his daughter glued her heart with the help of her mother, the wisdom to know that women don’t need men to make them strong.

My father ended the conversation, forcing a girl too young and polite to say things she didn’t mean, because a man’s ego is too fragile.

Do you see my father over there? He is the one talking to the girl who is smart enough to know she no longer needs him.

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Haunting

Danielle Jeanne

Despite what many believe, it is not in the middle of the night when the supernatural roam the streets. The supernatural, being what they are, are not constricted to time or circumstance like the mere mortals they live with seem to think that they are. Ghosts are especially terrible at doing what humans expect of them.

It was reading three fifty-five in the afternoon on the clocks around the city on a sunny Saturday when the street lights on 23rd Street began to flicker on and off. A baby begins to cry across the street as it feels a rush of energy flow through them, making the child’s father confused by the sudden outburst from the once happy child. The little nightlight in the corner of the room turns on.

The apartment below doesn’t appear to fare any better from the curious little spirit. Maxwell begins to bark at the lamp in the corner of the room, giving away his owner’s secret of harboring an unregistered pit bull in her home. She gets up from her bed to calm down her dog (god? Her dog god? The spirit isn’t sure) down enough for her to go back to sleep so she can worry about the consequences in minute detail later.

The couple on the first floor, however, is not amused. Simon huffs out a breath, muttering mild profanities while Irena finishes loading the laundry. Upon inspection of one of Simon’s shirts, Irena notices a few specks of crusted, rusty powder on the left sleeve. Heaving a sigh, she liberally applied the peroxide she kept near the washing machine just for cases such as these. She knew Simon was out with the boys this morning, but he had sworn to go meatless until the witch hunt had gone down.

“Hon, why is there blood on this shirt that I know I saw you wear this morning?” Irena asked him.

“Blood? What bloo—Oh! Blood! Well you see, today’s Henri’s birthday, and he wanted to celebrate the traditional way, and we, we—I mean he—he got a little out of control, you see. He might be on the news tonight, just so you know! He has gained so much weight, I doubt you will even recognize him, sweetheart. Going pig’s blood has really done a number on his metabolism,” Simon answered honestly. There was no point in lying to someone who had been able to hear his pulse for the past 50 years.

As Simon explained himself, Irena heard the cackling in the wires. Mimi was laughing at Simon through the lights in the building. As she chuckled to herself, the lights began to flair again causing the dog-god-dog to start barking and child to throw another short fit. Irena groaned, placing her head in her hands as she counted backwards from ten. If Mimi was here, then Simon and Henri had really messed up this morning. “I told you that the witch hunt had picked up! Why did you even try, huh? Why put yourself out there for the cops to get a hold of? You know what they did to Oskar last weekend! It was a total horror show!”

“Hey, what they did to Oskar was no one’s fault but Oskar’s! Oskar was a literal witch who was doing literal blood magic to get that girl in his human ethics class. I kinda think the irony was lost on him with that one, but hey it ain’t anyone’s problem now. What Henri and I did was fair game. She was homeless—”

“She? She?! Oh, no sir! That is almost asking to be drawn and quartered by the cops. You know the high value they put on their women here—”

“Their women’s bodies is more like it.”

“All the same to them! Mind, body, the whole package! Serious jail time for you if we’re caught, mister! And don’t forget that I know you’re still here, Mimi! I got some words for you! If you were there to see them do it, then you were there to tell them to back off! ”

“Wait, how come I would be the only one in the apartment to get jail time? You’re an accessory and an actual witch! You’ll be facing twenty to life with me, babe!”

“Oh, don’t you call me ‘babe,’ you son of a…” The conversation faded out as Mimi left the building the way she came, through the wires and back to the light post across the street. Mimi began to make her way to the station to laugh at Henri some more before Irena found a way to summon her back to the apartment. The clocks in the city read four fifteen in the afternoon as Mimi continued to live her death as she’d died in her life—hanging from a wire as she waited to see her friend’s reaction to the chaos that they themselves had caused.

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I Dated A Girl

Adrianna Nine

I dated a girl once who was a real peach. She just about smelled like one, too. And even on bad days or ones filled with rain Her smile lit up the room.

I dated a girl once who said she was haunted. Where she went, a ghost also came.  She was so cute that if it weren’t creepy I’d honestly do just the same.

I dated a girl once who loved to paint. On her canvas she’d copy the sky. And when she asked if next she could paint me I blushed so hard I thought I might die.

I dated a girl once who traveled the world. She practically lived on a plane. I would’ve asked her to live with me But she needed a spur, not a chain.

I dated a girl once who dressed in all black Even when it was a hundred degrees. My cats left fur all over her dress And unfortunately oft made her sneeze.

I dated a girl once who was a barista. She tasted like sugar and cream. The first time I saw her was at her café And the whole day then felt like a dream.

I dated a girl once who loved to write. She said it made her feel free. I came to her once with a poem I’d written her And it turned out she’d made one for me.

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Editorial

Esther C

Those of you who follow Ink Consequential closely know that I finally gave up the ghost on my pseudonym with our last issue, which is equal parts terrifying and freeing. Sure, I’m still a person on the internet, but isn’t everybody reading this? I must admit that I do like clinging to my anonymity, to that name I’d chosen for myself. Amelia has twice the syllables that Esther does, but it rolls off the tongue a little better without any plosives and doesn’t have any silent letters lending itself to misspellings.

Amelia means industrious or hardworking, and that’s an image I like to portray. I mean, I’m definitely at work enough to give off that particular vibe, but it’s not just about work. I run a litmag for fun, for goodness’ sake, and it’s been an enjoyable adventure thus far. Speaking of adventure, it was Amelia Earhart who said, “Adventure is worthwhile in itself,” and it’s one of my favorite quotes that isn’t from the Bible (but is anybody shocked by that?). I must admit that I admire her life. Amelia was truly adventurous, pushing and stretching the limits of what it meant to be a pilot and a woman. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she never gave up on anything.  She disappeared living her dream, and, while it’s tragic, it’s also very cool. But then we come to Esther.

Queen Esther, a woman formerly admired for her beauty, became a woman admired for her courage. Haman, one of the king’s highest officials, set out to wipe the Jewish people from existence. (In my opinion, he often sounds like a petulant child whenever I read the story, but that’s up for different interpretations.) Anyway, Haman successfully convinces the king to allow the annihilation of the Jewish people through some underhanded means. Chosen queen by the king himself, Esther was in a unique position of power for a Jewish woman: it becomes her duty to beseech her husband to revoke the order. Mordecai (Esther’s cousin who raised her after her parents died and the discoverer of a plot to murder the king) has to convince her to speak before she’s willing to go to the king (something that can bear the penalty of death if done unbidden) and reminds her of something that I often hold close to my heart: “Maybe you were chosen queen for just such a time as this.” So, Esther goes to the king, and (skipping over some events) Haman ends up executed, Mordecai takes over his position and issues a new edict to counteract the old one, and the Jewish people are saved.

With those stories in mind, what do I want people to think of when they think of me? Do I want people to think of Amelia, a woman who dared to dream and was willing to give her life to fulfill it? Do I want people to think of Esther, a woman who dared to stand up for what was right and was willing to give her life to live it out accordingly? I think the answer is both and neither. I want to be a woman who dares to dream, who dares to stand up for what is right. I want to be a woman who lives life boldly, letting faith dictate her steps, relying on compassion to guide her words. I want to be ardent and considerate, someone known for her ideas and the follow-through as well as kindness.

Am I any of those things right now? I couldn’t tell you with certainty. I think I already am a dreamer in that I have hopes for the future. I stand up for what I believe is right by preaching peace and love to those around me, by speaking when I feel called to speak. I don’t know how boldly I live life right now, but I definitely see that the path of faith will take me to that place of boldness. I looked up the definition of ardent to make sure I had the word I was thinking of, and it seems to fit me already—having intense feeling, passionate, devoted, eager—though I have plenty of room to grow into it further. I feel like my kindness can only be judged by the people around me, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t strive for it in my life (usually; I am only human, after all).

I started writing this by asking myself the question, What’s in a name? Just as Amelia means hardworking, Esther means star. Sometimes, I overthink it and feel as though it gives me a deeper connection to the cosmos, to the universe that I believe God created. Sometimes, I think it means that I should be willing to shine in the darkest of times even if my light is only minuscule. Sometimes, I hope it means I’m destined for notoriety and fame—but that’s a little far-fetched even for me. Sometimes, it means that I may never learn everything about the world around me, but that feeling of excitement and wonder is definitely still there. Maybe it means all of these things; maybe it means none of them. But maybe, just maybe, it means that I should be myself, whoever that woman is.

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[wiremagazinegoingout]

WIRE MAGAZINE GOING OUT CALENDAR OF EVENTS MAY 30 - JUNE 5

NIGHTLIFE AND ENTERTAINMENT

THURSDAY, MAY 30

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. Get ready for Throwback Thursday #TBT with $3 local craft beers and $7 Sailor Jerrys. It’s a throwback music video hits party #70’s #80’s #90’s. For additional info, visit gaythering.com. 1409 Lincoln Rd., Miami Beach

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 7 p.m., Miami Encore Screenings! The Beach Bum by Harmony Korine. Repeats at 8:50 p.m.

PALACE: Cafe con Leche Thursdays hosted by Missy Meyakie and Josefina La Mujer De Los Globos. For more information or to make a reservation, call 305.587.3588 or visit palacesouthbeach.com. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.” 1052 Ocean Drive, Miami Beach

TWIST: Doll Brawl with Athena Dion. 10 p.m. - 5 a.m. Music by DJ Aulden Brown. Stiff drinks and beautiful dancers.2-4-1 drinks till 3 a.m.  “Never a cover… Always a groove.” 1057 Washington Ave., Miami Beach

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Every Thursday enjoy $3 hummus & pita, $3 amaretto sours & $3 PABST beer. 1429 Washington Ave., Miami Beach

FRIDAY, MAY 31

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. $3 Bud Lights & $7 Jack. Then join Bears & Hares at 10 p.m. The animal house is open, welcoming bears & hares… and all other creatures. “On Fridays we wear flannel.”

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 6:45 p.m., Miami Theatrical Premiere Engagement! The Man Who Killed Don Quixote.

PALACE: Drag lunch 12-3 p.m. Hosted by Tiffany Fantasia. Then at 7 p.m., Drag Madness hosted by TP Lords. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.”

THE MANOR: Bubble Gum Friday with Platique Tiara. Meet & greet for the first 100 guests in line at 11 p.m. . Music in the Ballroom with DJ JPS. Ultra Lounge with DJ Miik. $150 VIP room bottle special. No cover before midnight FL Residents 21+. After midnight, members $7, non-members $10; $12 all night for under 21. For info, visit themanorcomplex.com. 2345 Wilton Drive, Wilton Manors

TWIST: Always Packed with DJ Alex Infiniti. “Never a cover… Always a groove.”

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Enjoy Fridaze at Vibes with $5 vodka cocktails. Open till 4:30 a.m.

SATURDAY, JUNE 1

ARSHT CENTER: At 5-9 p.m., celebrate Pride Month at the CommuniTea Dance with Shangela. Free for all ages. Enjoy music, dancing, drink specials, and more! 1300 Biscayne Blvd, Miami

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Inner Space Yoga with Joseph 11 a.m. - 12 p.m. All levels. Work your spiritual and physical fitness with this energetic flow sequence. Donation based classes. Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. Enjoy $3 Stellas & $7 Titos.

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 1:45 p.m., Miami Theatrical Premiere Engagement! The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Repeats at 4:15 p.m.

PALACE: Enjoy Saturday Brunch Extravaganza hosted by Noel Leon, 11:30 a.m. - 4 p.m. Then at 5 p.m., join in for a Drag Gone Wild hosted by Tiffany Fantasia. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.”

THE MANOR: The 9th Annual Glow Party with free glow toys. Music by DJ Scott Shepard. No cover before midnight, for FL Residents 21+. After midnight, members $7, non-members $10; $12 all night for under 21. $3 well drinks 11 p.m. - midnight. $150 VIP room bottle specials all night.

TWIST: Muscle Boy Saturdays with DJ Mika. 10 p.m. - 5 a.m. “Never a cover… Always a groove.”

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Join in for Shirts off Saturdays at Vibes with $5 vodka specials & $2 shots.

SUNDAY, JUNE 2

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 2-8 p.m with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. Enjoy Sunday Funday bar games with $3 PBRs & $7 Absolut flavors all night.

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 1:45 p.m., Miami Theatrical Premiere Engagement! The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Repeats at 4:15 p.m.  

PALACE: Join in for the most iconic brunch experience, Brunchic. Two servings, 11:30 a.m. & 2 p.m. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.”

TWIST: Steamy Sundays in the Garden Bar. Pussila’s Underwear Contest: winner gets $100 bar tab. Music by DJ Paulie. “Never a cover… Always a groove.”

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Enjoy SunDaze at Vibes with $5 tequila sunrises & $5 tequila sunsets. Open till 3 a.m.

MONDAY, JUNE 3

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. At 8 p.m., join in for Karaoke Mondays hosted by Tiffany Fantasia with $3 Coronas & $7 Milagros.

PALACE: Missy Meyakie Lepaige hosts Mondays Are A Drag with beer and burger specials.

TWIST: VJ Nathan presents: Pop! Mondays. Sounds by DJ Riptide. “Never a cover… Always a groove.“

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Every Monday, enjoy $6 margaritas at Vibes. Open till 3 a.m.

TUESDAY, JUNE 4

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. Then join in for Tight Ass Two’s Days with 2-4-1 well drinks all night. Enjoy $7 Alexander Beaverhausens. Inner Space Yoga with Paul 7-8 p.m. All levels. Work your spiritual and physical fitness with this energetic flow sequence. Donation based classes. 2-4-1 sauna happy hour 5-11 p.m.

PALACE: Tacos & Tequila Tuesdays with half off tacos and tequila specials. Hosted by Noel Leon. Shows at 7 p.m. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.”

TWIST: 2-4-1 Happy Hour 1-9 p.m. on everything. Globoy Tuesdays with beats by DJ Mika. $5 Fireball shots. “Never a cover… Always a groove.”

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Every Monday, enjoy $7 Long Islands at Vibes.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-8 p.m. with $3 beers, $1 off well, $2 off call & $3 off premium drinks. Gaymer night starting at 6 p.m. is Smash the Slumlords. Hosting Just Dance, Super Smash Bros. and retro games. Dance with your friends and help a worthy cause with your donations to play. Trivia night starts at 8 p.m. Winner gets $50 off their bar tab for the night. $3 PBRs & $7 Absolut all night.

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 6:45 p.m., Miami Theatrical Premiere Engagement! The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Repeats at 9:15 p.m.

PALACE: Way Back Wednesday hosted by Tiffany Fantasia with shows from 7-11:30 p.m. “Every Queen Needs A Palace.”

TWIST: Getting Fresh with TP Lords, featuring Josefina La Globos and sounds by DJ Sushiman. Showtime 1 a.m. “Never a cover… Always a groove.”

VIBES KITCHEN + BAR: Every Wednesday, enjoy $5 whiskey cocktails & $5 white wines. Open till 3 a.m.

SPECIAL UPCOMING EVENTS

SAVE Champions of Equality Gala 2019. For more information, click here.

MDGLCC Spotlight Mega-Mixer Networker at Bacardi Headquarters. For more information, click here.

Family Pride Day at the Museum of Discovery and Science. For more information, click here.

PARTNER ADVERTISEMENTS

This was originally published in Wire Magazine Issue 11.2019

[seungcheolrk]

naboogungan uploaded a new video ! 꽃길 (flower way) — 세정 (구구단) (sejeong (gugudan)) (special video)

to raise a single flower, how much rain fell in your eyes? november, eleventh month. thank you for everything.

posted: december 25th, 2016.

( tw !! brief mention of dieting )

getting signed to sphere had put a lot of things into perspective. 

first, how precious his free time was. the hours he had spent watching movies out of boredom, the long afternoons he’d spend in his friends’ company; it all felt so much more significant when he lost it. no longer could he let his bedroom fade into darkness, eyes trained on ‘a new hope’. no longer could he make the journey over to jihoon’s when he needed a warm, small hug. sure, he had seen him yesterday and they had let the sun set behind them as they tucked into popcorn and movies, but that had been the first time since he signed the dotted line that he felt as if he was really enjoying his spare time. usually, he walked through the front door of his home, greeted his parents and crashed the moment his head hit the pillow. 

second is how much junk food he truly used to scoff down during the daytime. he isn’t one to be obsessively unhealthy, and he works out regularly, so it never really shows either way, but for the boy who just ate whatever he could find whenever he was hungry, being placed on a strict diet was difficult (to say the least) to adapt to. his stomach growled for a while, but he thinks, by now, he’s used to the lingering hunger. 

but what hit him the hardest, what he saw in the pride and the sadness in his parents’ eyes was that he had always taken their love for granted. 

he isn’t an ungrateful child — far from it. seungcheol buys his mother flowers every so often, never forgets a birthday or anniversary, exercises the manners they’d taught him when he was little, but he hadn’t realised quite what his parents had given up to help him blossom into the young man he is today. 

his father’s career, countless hours of his mother’s life caring for him when his father was away— seungcheol could go on forever listing the things his parents had given up for him, no matter how big or small, and yet, he felt like he hadn’t truly thanked them for any of it. there’s not a bone in his body that isn’t thankful, and he knows that they know without him having to speak a word, but that isn’t the point. 

the first time he heard flower way, he cried. the second time, harder. by the hundredth, five hundredth even, it still brings him close, his throat closing and his heart racing, but it’s clear — this is it. this is perfect.

maybe it’s a little conceited to gift your parents a song cover for christmas (among other things), but there’s more to it than that. this project is more than a few hours in their studio, a couple hours editing and done. it’s a thank you. for everything. now and forever.

세상이란 게 제법 춥네요 당신의 안에서 살던 때 보다 모자람 없이 주신 사랑이 과분하다 느낄 때쯤 난 어른이 됐죠

한 송이 꽃을 피우려 작은 두 눈에 얼마나 많은 비가 내렸을까

in the style of the original music video, seungcheol took a look back on the life his parents had given him. home videos were of the plenty in their family. his mother had always been a stickler for organisation, so it was no surprise to him that all their old vcrs and tapes were converted to discs and filed in chronological order in the spare room. there have been many times where seungcheol had cursed his mother’s business background; the times where she’d catch him out for treating himself to candy whilst on errands, for example. she would work out the price exactly, yet always ‘accidentally’ give him too much, and it hadn’t been until he looked back that he realised she did this without fault, every time. however, there are times where he’s grateful for it, like that cold saturday evening earlier in the month when his parents had gone out for a nice meal and he watched through each dvd from his birth (though he skips the actual birth video; he’s only human) to today to pick out his favourite clips. 

the first clip fades in from a few seconds of a black screen, the instrumental from the single increasing in volume slowly. as the guitar kicks in, a clip of christmas 2004 starts. he’s tearing the festive paper off a brand new guitar — the one he uses to this day — eyes twinkling. faintly, the sound of his cooing and his parents’ laughter can be heard over the music. 

the second jumps forward almost nine years to the summer of ‘13. he’s filled out (though still growing) and still no taller than the boy beside him (though certainly broader). where jeonghan’s build appears graceful, seungcheol’s is like a bull in a china shop, but neither of those things are obvious as they’re tucked under four blankets on the sofa, the loading screen of a movie long finished illuminating their faces just enough for them to be distinguishable on camera. 

oh rewind 돌이킬수록 더 미안 포기 안 하려 포기해버린 젊고 아름다운 당신의 계절 여길 봐 예쁘게 피었으니까 바닥에 떨어지더라도 꽃길만 걷게 해줄게요

filtered in between each blast from the past are clips from this month. over the last few years, the amount of home videos his mother recorded had fallen to almost none, and he intended to change that. maybe it was a little suspicious, him suddenly picking up the camera whenever he was home and something interesting was happening, but he shrugged off their questions with a laugh and they were eventually dropped. 

the first present day clip is the decorating of the tree. the living room is filled with fairy lights, but his mother can barely see the branches to hang her baubles. she laughs, and his father wanders over with an extra light source in the form of a small snowman to help. 

then, it rewinds again, this time to early 2009. he stands before his parents as a young boy so desperate to impress them, a hairbrush for a microphone as he raps for them for the first time. he can’t be heard in the video, but the bounce in his body is clear and the joy on his facial features as he rounds off the song is unmistakable. he shines; he always has, despite everything. he bows politely and laughs, gums on show — something else that never changes. 

문득 쳐다본 그 입가에는 미소가 폈지만 주름이 졌죠 내게 인생을 선물해주고 사랑해란 말이 그리도 고마운가요

한 송이 꽃을 피우려 작은 두 눈에 얼마나 많은 비가 내렸을까

the next clip is his father’s last performance with the kbs symphony orchestra in late ‘12. seungcheol had begged to take the day off school, but his mother had been adamant. they sit in the audience that evening, seungcheol still in his uniform. they’re the only two in the crowd wiping tears as the curtains close. neither of them can be seen in the footage, or heard over the sweet vocals and soothing backing track, but it’s emotional nonetheless. his heart aches looking at the stage his father gave up in order to settle with his family. it aches looking at how happy he was, though it’s nowhere close to the vibrancy of his smile in the next few seconds. 

it’s late summer 2003, just past his birthday. he’s perched on his father’s lap as they play the piano together, tiny hands pressing down on keys to disrupt the beautiful melody his old man plays. it’s a mystery how a child so playful was plagued — is plagued — by so many fears, but it’s an even bigger mystery how the young boy’s horrific playing had grown so quickly into the talent he adores to this day. 

or maybe it isn’t, really. not anymore. no part of him really seems a mystery when he looks back at these memories he shares with the two who had raised him through all the challenges, taught him about life and about respect, but most of all, taught him love — gave him love. 

oh rewind 돌이킬수록 더 미안 포기 안 하려 포기해버린 젊고 아름다운 당신의 계절 여길 봐 예쁘게 피었으니까 바닥에 떨어지더라도 꽃길만 걷게 해줄게요

the next clip jumps back forward, this time to not long after high school, another clip of himself in the company of a best friend — though this time a significantly smaller best friend. his soft blonde hair is the biggest giveaway of his identity, though there’s only two people in the world at that point that seungcheol would wrap his arm over the shoulders of, regardless. neither of them have any idea they’re being filmed from behind, so much is obvious in the playfulness of their antics instead of the timidness he’d often fall into at that age with a lens pointed at him. he ruffles the younger’s hair, earning a light punch. he reacts dramatically, clutching at his side until jihoon laughs, no matter how small, at which point he hooks his arm back around his shoulders, tugging him into an affectionate hug. it’s a moment they have in passing, and something they’d do often, but it means so much more when he looks back and reminds himself how scared he’d have been to make friends when he was younger — even when he started high school, he was still the same. yet, he had grown into an incredible young man with lifelong friendships under his belt thanks to his parents, who never gave up on him — who always encouraged him to try.

it reminds him of the time he ridden a bike without stabilisers, his mother letting go despite his fears of falling. he’d breezed through it, and seungcheol had wondered why he let any of his fears control him, but it’s easier said than done. 

still, he’s better than he’s ever been, and it’s his parents’ — and his friends’ — guidance that has gotten him here. he isn’t quite the man he hopes to be just yet, but he’s only young. he has plenty of time and plenty of support for getting there. all he needs is a little patience.

겨울이 와도 마음속에 봄 향기가 가득한 건 한결같이 시들지 않는 사랑 때문이죠 

the last few clips pass by in a flash as the bridge comes to an end and the final chorus starts. his gentle vocals are shaken, tiny sniffles audible in the gaps between lines. a quick slideshow of childhood photos displays, taking a trip from infancy to today, before the video fades to black as he finishes singing. the instrumental continues, and slowly, words appear and disappear on the screen — a message to the man and woman who had given up so many things to watch him thrive. 

“to my parents, who have spent twenty and a half years thus far raising me and caring for me and showing me the most love possible,

thank you. 

thank you for the sacrifices you have made and the hardships you have overcome. I know I have not been the easiest son to raise, with all the things that I’ve been frightful of over the years, but

you have never let that stop you from encouraging me every step of the way to overcome those fears and chase my dreams, even when you had to give up yours for me. 

thank you. 

thank you for teaching me the value of life, and for showing me what it means to love and be loved. thank you for teaching me music and even though I complained a lot, business. 

I love you. 

I don’t think anyone ever truly feels like they can say it enough, but I know I certainly don’t. thank you for everything. thank you for being the best parents in the world. thank you for being you. 

I will make sure you walk only on flower paths.’ 

oh rewind 짧은 바람 같던 시간 날 품에 안고 흔들림 없는 화분이 되어준 당신의 세월 여길 봐 행복만 남았으니까 다 내려놓고 이 손잡아요 꽃길만 걷게 해줄게요

the version of the video he shows his parents on christmas day is the instrumental and videos only; his vocals are live and uncharacteristically quiet in the warmth of their home. as the room falls silent, he chokes on a fresh set of tears he’d been holding back in order to sing, and two arms soon wrap around him from either side. 

“merry christmas, cheollie.” soft fingers gently wipe his cheeks, “thank you for everything, too.” 

“you’re the best son we could have ever asked for, and we’re so incredibly proud of you.” 

“right. your dad and I couldn’t have possibly gotten any luckier,” and a kiss is pressed to his temple. 

“sure?”

they laugh, “we’re sure.” 

[ixvyupdates]

Separate But Equal Doesn’t Work, Except When We’re Talking Graduation Ceremonies

Dear White Elementary and High School Administrators:

Did you see what happened at the University of Florida’s graduation ceremony on Saturday? Did you see that White usher pushing Black graduates off the stage? Please, don’t be that guy.

As we approach graduation season, can we have a tough, but honest, conversation about something really important? Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I am just going to say this so we can start strategizing: For many people of color, White-organized graduation ceremonies, like most White-organized social functions, are boring! Attending them is like eating oatmeal for breakfast, or unseasoned pot roast for dinner.

For most people of color, your graduations and ceremonies are just the worst! So boring! And we people of color are powerless to control the program of the ceremony. So we suffer through the procession, flags and official seating of ranking administrators, etc.

And, the entire thing is about timing!

Instead of focusing on celebrating, you are focused on making sure it starts and ends on time. And, time, as an important value for a celebratory function, isn’t something that is important to most people of color. We operate on Colored People’s Time (CPT). I acknowledge this happens, but I’m with Damon Young: You’re not allowed to joke about it.

Because of the different ways White people and people of color view time, graduation ceremonies become even more terrible. Not only are we rushed through this stale, boring, “traditional ceremony,” we also have to either try to hide our natural responses to celebrate (like clapping) or risk being punished for not doing things the “White/quiet way.”

I know, I know. I told you this was going to be hard. But it is the truth. Like church, BBQs and weddings and funerals, people of color have different traditions. And, usually we can do good with our separate, but equal, traditions, like Black church and White church, Black BBQs and White BBQs, when we get to school stuff, it is harder.

Culturally Diverse Graduation Ceremonies Do Not Equal Jim Crow

It sounds soooo bad: “racially segregated events” and “separate but equal” events. They should sound bad, because America has a horrible history of actually implementing these policies.

OK, before you overreact, please know, I am not talking about Jim Crow segregation. But for the sake of an opportunity to truly celebrate our loved ones, in a free and open way, I am willing to take the criticism for asking that we have racially segregated graduation ceremonies, starting in elementary school and continuing through high school.

The idea is not unique. In fact, it is common in many Predominantly White Colleges and Universities (PWIs). Since 1978, the University of Illinois has held a Black Congratulatory ceremony for its graduates, one of the oldest ceremonies of this kind in the country. Stanford holds another. At Brown University, the Onyx Rite of Passage, or Blackalaurate, ceremony takes place the night before the main commencement ceremony. A recent New York Times article highlighted alternative graduation ceremonies honoring first-generation college students and LGBTA students, as well as students of color.

“I went to the Black Congratulatory and it was a party, a celebration. You know how we celebrate,” recalled my husband’s best friend, Eric, who graduated from the University of Illinois in 1996. “It was a festive affair compared to my college graduation. I didn’t go to the general populace graduation. Went to the Black Congratulatory and then the engineering college graduation.”

Let’s apply this idea not just to college graduation ceremonies, but to high school and eighth-grade graduations. People of all races could choose which ceremony they wanted to attend, or attend both. Diplomas would be given at both. Students would wear graduation robes at both.

At the Very Least, You’ve Got to Let Us Cheer, But There’s So Much More

But for the Black graduation ceremonies, these aspects would look different:

Time: The, for lack of a better term, “Colored Graduation” would have an “estimated start and end time.”

Noise: Noise is expected and planned around. People might chew gum, have ring tones that go off during the ceremony, bring a tambourine. All of these things will be planned around and will not affect the ceremony.

Expression of Emotions: This is the biggie. Look, POC, and Black folks in particular, are expressive people. The idea that we should withhold our emotions of joy, on one of the happiest days of our lives, the graduation of our children, is insulting. It is also, as many people who firmly hold onto the values of quietness can attest, at “White Graduations,” it’s unreasonable and unrealistic. It goes against everything in our cultural DNA, to not express, with words, noises, dances, tambourines, bullhorns, whatever tool we feel most expresses how excited we are, our complete joy and happiness.

The Black American Experience: There are specific trials and ancestral tributes that are important to include in Black ceremonies. Black people know they didn’t get their success on their own. There were a lot of people, ancestors who were enslaved, ancestors who weren’t allowed to go school, parents who worked two or three jobs, and this is not just a moment for the student, but to honor all those who helped the student get to where they are.

Diverse Entertainment: Perhaps someone would like to do a praise dance, or a stepping routine, or a miming. Basically, there are so many ways to celebrate a graduation, and having a keynote speaker and the band playing one, usually European, song is just not enough.

Potluck BBQ after graduation: Another way that we enjoy celebrating, is with food and socializing. Why not hold an after-graduation BBQ in the parking lot? Seriously, it isn’t hard to plan. Just send out a group email and ask people what they are bringing. People of color are experts at planning BBQs on a short time deadline.

In the end, we all want the same thing, to celebrate the wonderful achievements of students with their school and family community. I believe that each culture should be able to create that celebration in a way that reflects who they are and how they celebrate.

So that might mean more than one “official” graduation ceremony. Administrators, look at this honestly and encourage racially diverse graduation ceremonies for elementary and high schools.

And, at the very least, please stop telling parents to hold their cheers for their children when their names are called. That is a direct assault on our cultural expression. We cheer. We cheer loudly and proudly. We cheer because we know where we have been as a people and how far we have come. The pride of that moment, getting a diploma, is worthy of multiple cultural expressions of celebrating.

Photo by Qi Le, CC-licensed.

Separate But Equal Doesn’t Work, Except When We’re Talking Graduation Ceremonies syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com

[ixvyupdates]

Separate But Equal Doesn’t Work, Except When We’re Talking Graduation Ceremonies

Dear White Elementary and High School Administrators:

Did you see what happened at the University of Florida’s graduation ceremony on Saturday? Did you see that White usher pushing Black graduates off the stage? Please, don’t be that guy.

As we approach graduation season, can we have a tough, but honest, conversation about something really important? Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I am just going to say this so we can start strategizing: For many people of color, White-organized graduation ceremonies, like most White-organized social functions, are boring! Attending them is like eating oatmeal for breakfast, or unseasoned pot roast for dinner.

For most people of color, your graduations and ceremonies are just the worst! So boring! And we people of color are powerless to control the program of the ceremony. So we suffer through the procession, flags and official seating of ranking administrators, etc.

And, the entire thing is about timing!

Instead of focusing on celebrating, you are focused on making sure it starts and ends on time. And, time, as an important value for a celebratory function, isn’t something that is important to most people of color. We operate on Colored People’s Time (CPT). I acknowledge this happens, but I’m with Damon Young: You’re not allowed to joke about it.

Because of the different ways White people and people of color view time, graduation ceremonies become even more terrible. Not only are we rushed through this stale, boring, “traditional ceremony,” we also have to either try to hide our natural responses to celebrate (like clapping) or risk being punished for not doing things the “White/quiet way.”

I know, I know. I told you this was going to be hard. But it is the truth. Like church, BBQs and weddings and funerals, people of color have different traditions. And, usually we can do good with our separate, but equal, traditions, like Black church and White church, Black BBQs and White BBQs, when we get to school stuff, it is harder.

Culturally Diverse Graduation Ceremonies Do Not Equal Jim Crow

It sounds soooo bad: “racially segregated events” and “separate but equal” events. They should sound bad, because America has a horrible history of actually implementing these policies.

OK, before you overreact, please know, I am not talking about Jim Crow segregation. But for the sake of an opportunity to truly celebrate our loved ones, in a free and open way, I am willing to take the criticism for asking that we have racially segregated graduation ceremonies, starting in elementary school and continuing through high school.

The idea is not unique. In fact, it is common in many Predominantly White Colleges and Universities (PWIs). Since 1978, the University of Illinois has held a Black Congratulatory ceremony for its graduates, one of the oldest ceremonies of this kind in the country. Stanford holds another. At Brown University, the Onyx Rite of Passage, or Blackalaurate, ceremony takes place the night before the main commencement ceremony. A recent New York Times article highlighted alternative graduation ceremonies honoring first-generation college students and LGBTA students, as well as students of color.

“I went to the Black Congratulatory and it was a party, a celebration. You know how we celebrate,” recalled my husband’s best friend, Eric, who graduated from the University of Illinois in 1996. “It was a festive affair compared to my college graduation. I didn’t go to the general populace graduation. Went to the Black Congratulatory and then the engineering college graduation.”

Let’s apply this idea not just to college graduation ceremonies, but to high school and eighth-grade graduations. People of all races could choose which ceremony they wanted to attend, or attend both. Diplomas would be given at both. Students would wear graduation robes at both.

At the Very Least, You’ve Got to Let Us Cheer, But There’s So Much More

But for the Black graduation ceremonies, these aspects would look different:

Time: The, for lack of a better term, “Colored Graduation” would have an “estimated start and end time.”

Noise: Noise is expected and planned around. People might chew gum, have ring tones that go off during the ceremony, bring a tambourine. All of these things will be planned around and will not affect the ceremony.

Expression of Emotions: This is the biggie. Look, POC, and Black folks in particular, are expressive people. The idea that we should withhold our emotions of joy, on one of the happiest days of our lives, the graduation of our children, is insulting. It is also, as many people who firmly hold onto the values of quietness can attest, at “White Graduations,” it’s unreasonable and unrealistic. It goes against everything in our cultural DNA, to not express, with words, noises, dances, tambourines, bullhorns, whatever tool we feel most expresses how excited we are, our complete joy and happiness.

The Black American Experience: There are specific trials and ancestral tributes that are important to include in Black ceremonies. Black people know they didn’t get their success on their own. There were a lot of people, ancestors who were enslaved, ancestors who weren’t allowed to go school, parents who worked two or three jobs, and this is not just a moment for the student, but to honor all those who helped the student get to where they are.

Diverse Entertainment: Perhaps someone would like to do a praise dance, or a stepping routine, or a miming. Basically, there are so many ways to celebrate a graduation, and having a keynote speaker and the band playing one, usually European, song is just not enough.

Potluck BBQ after graduation: Another way that we enjoy celebrating, is with food and socializing. Why not hold an after-graduation BBQ in the parking lot? Seriously, it isn’t hard to plan. Just send out a group email and ask people what they are bringing. People of color are experts at planning BBQs on a short time deadline.

In the end, we all want the same thing, to celebrate the wonderful achievements of students with their school and family community. I believe that each culture should be able to create that celebration in a way that reflects who they are and how they celebrate.

So that might mean more than one “official” graduation ceremony. Administrators, look at this honestly and encourage racially diverse graduation ceremonies for elementary and high schools.

And, at the very least, please stop telling parents to hold their cheers for their children when their names are called. That is a direct assault on our cultural expression. We cheer. We cheer loudly and proudly. We cheer because we know where we have been as a people and how far we have come. The pride of that moment, getting a diploma, is worthy of multiple cultural expressions of celebrating.

Photo by Qi Le, CC-licensed.

Separate But Equal Doesn’t Work, Except When We’re Talking Graduation Ceremonies syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com

[wiremagazinegoingout]

GOING OUT CALENDAR OF EVENTS JUNE 29 - JULY 5

NIGHTLIFE AND ENTERTAINMENT

THURSDAY, JUNE 29

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. At 9 p.m., get ready for Throwback Thursday #TBT with $3 local craft beers and $7 Alexander Beaverhausens. At 7 p.m., join in for inner space yoga. Donations are encouraged. #YoGay! Locals can enjoy savings with a complimentary membership! For info visit, www.gaythering.com or sign up in person. 1409 Lincoln Rd., Miami Beach

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 6:50 p.m., Miami Beach Premiere Engagement: After Image by Andrzej Wajda. At 8:50 p.m., Miami Beach Premiere Engagement: The Student by Kirell Serebrennikov. For more information, visit www.mbcinema.com. 1130 Washington Ave., Miami Beach

TWIST: Sabroso Thursdays! 10 p.m. - 5 a.m. 2-4-1 drinks until 3 a.m. on everything. Music by DJ Adora & DJ Mika. Stiff drinks and beautiful dancers. "Never a cover... Always a groove." 1057 Washington Ave., Miami Beach

FRIDAY, JUNE 30

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. $6 Gordon Gingers and $7 Hunnie Bunnies. Then join Bears & Hares at 10 p.m. The animal house is open, welcoming bears & hares… and all other creatures. "On Fridays we wear flannel."

MIAMI BEACH CINEMATHEQUE: At 7 p.m., Miami Beach Premiere Engagement: After Image by Andrzej Wajda. At 8:50 p.m., Miami Beach Premiere Engagement: The Student by Kirell Serebrennikov.

SCORE: The Lab Fridays: Three decades of pop rolled into one Pop-A-Licious night. Hosted by Athena Dion and her Labrats, music by DJ Yazz Burrell. Plus Marco Perez and his hot dancers. No cover for FL ID Holders until 12:30 a.m.1437 Washington Ave., Miami Beach

THE MANOR: Bubble Gum Fridays: Ariana Grande Birthday Bash. Divas take on Ariana Grande's music. Music in the Ballroom with DJ JPS. Ultra Lounge with DJ Miik. $150 VIP room bottle special. No cover before midnight, 21+ for FL Residents; after midnight, 21+ members $7, non-members $10; $12 all night for under 21. For information, visit www.themanorcomplex.com. 2345 Wilton Drive, Wilton Manors

TWIST: Summer Heat with DJ Pride. 2-4-1 Happy Hour, 1-9 p.m. on everything. "Never a cover… Always a groove."

SATURDAY, JULY 1

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. Enjoy $3 Peroni beers.

LIV: LIV presents Kaskade. 11 p.m. Reserve tickets online. 21+. For table reservations, call  305.674.4680 or email VIP@LIVnightclub. For information, visit www.livnightclub.com. 4441 Collins Ave., Miami Beach

SCORE: 2 parties under one roof: Level 1: Club Boi Miami in association with Score present Sexxy Saturdays. "Urban & Hip-Hop Night," featuring the music of DJs. Plus sexy go-go's on stage. Level 2: Score presents Action "Born in the USA." Making his Score debut, direct from the UK, world-renowned DJ/producer Tom Stephan. Warm set by DJ Alex Ramos. Open Bar 11-11:30 pm.

SPACE: Apollonia by Link Miami Rebels. 21 & over. 11 p.m. $10-plus. For more information, visit www.clubspace.com. 34 NE 11th St., Miami

THE MANOR: Special Guest from RuPaul's Drag Race Season 9, Nina Bo'Nina Brown. Meet & Greet for first 100 in line at 11 p.m. Sounds by DJ Sushiman. No cover before midnight, 21+ for FL Residents; after midnight 21+ members $7, non-members $10; $12 all night for under 21. $3 well drinks 11 p.m. - midnight. $150 VIP room bottle special.

TWIST: Muscle Boy Saturdays with DJ Mika. 10 p.m. - 5 a.m. 2-4-1 Happy Hour 1-9 p.m. on everything. "Never a cover… Always a groove."

SUNDAY, JULY 2

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: At 10:30 a.m., join in for Gaythering Beach Volleyball at Lummus Park (12th St. & Ocean Dr.). At 2 p.m., head back to the Hôtel for a barbecue in the courtyard with complimentary burgers, veggie burgers & hot dogs while they last. Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. Enjoy $3 Heinekens all night.

SCORE: Score presents Huntee Sundays: "U Looking Fierce Tonight!" hosted by TP Lords, and cast: Ann Atomic, House of Kuntz, Dasha Sweetwaters & more. Music by DJ Sushiman. $6 drink specials, $4 Becks.

THE HALL SOUTH BEACH: SWET Pool Party is back, at The Hall Hotel. Featuring the music of DJ Hannah and resident DJ Yazz Burrell. SWET Pool Party features shows, dancers, food, lockers and $10 valet parking. Advance tickets at www.purplepass.com. 1500 Collins Ave., Miami Beach

TWIST: 2-4-1 Happy Hour 1-9 p.m. on everything. Steamy Sundays in the Garden Bar. Pussila's Underwear Contest: winner gets $100 bar tab. Music by DJ Paulie. "Never a cover... Always a groove."

MONDAY, JULY 3

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. At 8 p.m., join in for Karaoke Mondays with $5 well drinks. Enjoy $5 house margaritas all night long.

SCORE: In celebration of the 4th of July, Score presents 2017 XLSIOR Festival Pre-Party. Featuring mixmasters Dani Toro and Hansell Leyva, a slew of hunky go-go gods, amazing production and an indescribable energy. Advance tickets at www.showclix.com.

TWIST: 2-4-1 Happy Hour 1-9 p.m. on everything. At night, VJ Nathan presents: Pop! Mondays. Sounds by DJ Sushiman. "Never a cover… Always a groove."

TUESDAY, JULY 4 HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. Enjoy $6 Rekorderlig ciders. At 7 p.m., join in for inner space yoga. Donations are encouraged. #YoGay!

SCORE: Planeta Macho "The Hottest Latin Party in Miami Beach" INDEPEN-DANCE with special guest Elishaly D'Witshes. Music by DJ Yazz Burrell, hosted by Lola Lotus and Marco Perez with his hot male dancers. No cover for FL ID Holders, $6 drink specials and $4 Modelo Especial. For more information, visit www.scorebar.net.

TWIST: 2-4-1 Happy Hour 1-9 p.m. on everything. Globoy Tuesdays with beats by DJ Carlos G. $5 Fireball shots. "Never a cover… Always a groove."

WEDNESDAY, JULY 5

HÔTEL GAYTHERING: Hoppy Hour 5-9 p.m. with $5 well drinks. Join in for Trivia/Gayme night with $3 PBRs and $7 Absolut flavors. 8 p.m. - midnight. Winner receives $50 off bar tab.

TWIST: Getting Fresh with TP Lords, featuring Josefina La Globos and sounds by DJ Sushiman. Showtime 1 a.m. "Never a cover… Always a groove." 

This was originally published in Wire Magazine Issue 26.2017