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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 45 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Aiden’s jealousy worsened, and Bianca invited Courtney to lunch.

This Chapter: Courtney, Adore and Violet all receive unexpected invitations.

***

It was kind of amazing. How Courtney could be sitting across from one of the most influential, powerful women in New York and feel so...well, comfortable. She knew that any sane person would feel horribly intimidated in this situation, but Bianca just kept on making her laugh so much, it was like she forgot to be nervous. Or...well, she wasn’t exactly not nervous, but it was a fluttery kind of excited nervous, curling pleasantly in her abdomen as they bantered back and forth.

“So...what class are you taking later?” Bianca asked, stirring her latte.

“It’s a street jazz class at BDC,” Courtney replied.

“BDC?” Bianca raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it stands for Broadway Dance Cen-”

“Yeah, I know what BDC is, I’m not a moron,” Bianca interrupted, and Courtney bit back a laugh, finding her abrasive style somehow endearing. “I just didn’t realize you were a dancer.”

“Oh. I’m not really. I just uh...want to get into music. Eventually. Like, pop music. When I got to New York, I went on a bunch of auditions, and I realized that my dance background was nowhere near strong enough to be competitive-” Courtney stopped abruptly. Was she saying too much? As nice as Bianca was, she was also one of Fame’s best friends.

Bianca didn’t seem concerned though, simply listening, nodding, a soft smile on her face. She really was so beautiful. Courtney’s heart hammered a bit faster.

“Do you mind...um...not telling Miss Fame about that? I don’t want her to think I’m not committed. I just, feel like she’d disapprove, and I really need that job, so-”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Bianca’s smile deepened, dark eyes shining.

“Thanks.” Courtney smiled back as the waitress set down their food, relieved.

“So how’d you end up at Galactica, anyway? It’s not exactly a direct path from there to being a pop star.”

“Uh, it’s kind of a long story. I was applying for like, any job that would let me stay in the country, and when I saw the opening with Miss Fame, I was thrilled. And then Adore and I were at this club, and we ran into Violet, and...I guess she kind of put in a good word for me.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that,” Bianca mused.

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s just… Violet’s always seemed a bit...uptight as fuck?”

Courtney had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud, explaining, “She takes her work very seriously.”

“Oh yeah?” One of Bianca’s brows raised a little, challenging. “Do you?”

“Of course! I’m so lucky to have that job, a million girls would kill to be in my shoes. And Miss Fame, you know, she’s a great boss.” Courtney blinked at Bianca, watching her muffle a laugh with her hand. “What?”

“No, nothing. You’re just cute when you lie.”

That fluttery feeling was back in Courtney’s belly, stronger than ever, as she insisted, “I’m not lying! She’s great! You’re her best friend, you should know-”

“Exactly. I’m her best friend. That’s how I know you’re lying.” Bianca bit down on a sweet potato fry, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, maybe she’s a little…”

“Yes?”

“Well, she’s not the easiest boss, or the most predictable, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a good one.” Courtney crossed her arms, a pretend little pout on her lips.

“Fair enough.”

And with that particular landmine safely side-stepped, Courtney let out a relieved sigh.

“Hey, uh, here’s a question. Do you have any Thanksgiving plans? I know you’re not American, so-”

“Really, what gave that away?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering.

“Lucky guess,” Bianca laughed. “Anyway, Adore and I usually go home to New Orleans. But my sister Liz is going through a divorce and she’s apparently just an absolute cunt to anyone who dares even look at her. So we decided to stay in town and avoid that nightmare altogether.”

“That’s nice. Very supportive.”

“Hey, I’m paying for her attorney,” Bianca defended herself, and Courtney laughed. Of course she was paying for her sister’s divorce attorney; she was quickly proving to be one of the most generous people Courtney’d ever met. “But yeah, so...would you have any interest in joining us?”

“Really?”

“Sure. I know Adore would love to have you there,” Bianca said quickly, and after a moment of hesitation, added, “And hey, I’d like to encourage her to hang out with people who read. So, you know, win win.”

Courtney bit her lip, Bianca’s sarcastic deflection as she folded up a napkin in her hands making the whole thing painfully cute.

“No pressure, I just, uh...wanted you to know you’re welcome.”

“I would love to,” Courtney said, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the invite, knowing that this was a holiday people spent with family. “I should warn you though, I just went vegan.”

“Oh shit, invite rescinded.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair. “I know, I've already lost 3 friends over it. And I think I’m on very thin ice with Adore. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I actually eat a lot of vegan food, even tried it myself for a few years,” Bianca said. “I am a lesbian, after all.”

Courtney leaned forward, intrigued. “Is that like a thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Bianca nodded.

“Why do you think that is?” Courtney asked, lifting her glass to her lips, trying to find the straw without looking.

Bianca thought for a moment and then said, “Well...part of it is probably just lefty-feminist politics. And then of course there’s the purely unscientific belief that a plant-based diet makes your pussy taste amazing.”

Courtney choked, spitting out some of her smoothie, cheeks flushing hotly.

A mischievous smile spread across Bianca’s face as she handed over some napkins. She looked both terribly amused and a bit proud of herself.

“Sorry,” Courtney sputtered, wiping up the mess. “I was...not prepared for that.”

“I hope I didn’t destroy your innocence,” Bianca said, voice soft and teasing.

“I’m not that fragile. I’ve been Adore’s best friend for 4 years, remember?” Courtney reminded her.

“Right.”

As Courtney set down the napkins, she looked up and caught Bianca’s eyes again, both of them breaking out into matching grins. She couldn’t quite explain the way her heart thumped faster every time they looked at each other--all she knew was that looking into Bianca’s warm brown eyes, she felt better than she had in months.

***

“Fame?”

Patrick toed his shoes off, resisting the urge to dump his tennis bag by the door. He played tennis every other Saturday morning, tennis and his occasional swims the only form of exercise he had ever found bearable, even though Fame had tried to get him turned into yoga more times than he could count.

Patrick waited for a second, either expecting his wife or his dog to come down to greet him, but neither happened, instead, all he could hear was the faint sound of the TV.

“Fame? Darling?”

Patrick put his bag down, vowing to himself that he’d remember to come back and pick it up, before he made his way into their townhouse.

He found her in the living room. Fame was sitting on the couch in a silk robe, the TV on, the curtains drawn, Charles' head resting on her lap.

“Did you have fun?”

“We finished 5 sets.” Patrick smiled, Fame not actually asking how he had done at tennis, the rules of the game on the long list of things she didn’t care about, though she had shown up to watch him play, the shorts apparently making it worth it. He walked over to the couch, sitting down and leaning in to give his wife a kiss on the cheek, when he felt Fame’s hand on his face, blocking him.

“Don’t-” Fame turned her head, pulling herself away from her show as she looked at Patrick through her fingers. “I just had my skin done, and I refuse to let you mess up my microneedling.”

“Ah. Glad it’s not a chemical peel month.” Fame always looked absolutely insane after those, her skin flaking off. It was rather disgusting, and he tried not to be around for those, seeing your wife shed like a lizard weirdly enough rarely doing wonders for a sex life.

“Shut up.”

Patrick grinned, and Fame smiled as she pushed him back, Patrick settling in on the couch so Fame could snuggle up against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “And what are we watching?”

“Snapped.”

Patrick had to hide a snort, Fame absolutely devouring any and all true crime media. When she’d first gotten addicted to that particular show, all about women who murdered their partners, he’d wonder if she was trying to tell him something. Her response when he’d asked, “Keep asking questions like that and you’ll find out,” had made him burst out laughing, his wife’s sardonic, grisly sense of humor one of the things he loved the most about her, only coming out in rare instances but always a delightful surprise. Almost as surprising as her porcelain chicken collection.

“Your bag better not be flung anywhere.”

Ah.

Busted.

***

Katya hummed to herself as she was setting the table, a bottle of wine for Trixie and sparkling water for her chilling in the fridge.

Trixie was locked up in their bedroom, working away on the cost predictions for the Spring prêt-à-porter collection, sweating over numbers and doing everything he could to make sure everything was running smoothly.

He had promised her to come out for dinner, so Katya had arranged a surprise, a gigantic order of Chipotle on its way.

“Hey Katya?”

Katya looked up from where she had been folding the napkin, to see Pearl leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She was wearing a pair of drop-crotch sweats and a sleeveless jersey tied up around her midriff, certainly not her typical going-out clothes. Was it possible that she was staying in? On a Saturday?

“Everything okay?”

Pearl gave a slow, unconvincing nod, walking forward a few steps.

“Are you sure about that?”

“How did you know that you wanted to be with Trixie forever?”

Katya paused, the napkin still in her hand as she considered Pearl’s question. Normally, she would have made a joke about Trixie’s luscious butt, but judging from Pearl’s face, this wasn’t the time.

“I honestly…still don’t know.”

“Please,” Pearl sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Katya smiled. Pearl and Trixie had been friends for forever, but they didn’t become best friends until after Katya and Trixie had started dating, Pearl moving in with Trixie while she was in rehab for that final time. “I liked being single. I liked having little whirlwind romantic flings and then going back to starfishing across the bed when they were over.”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head, and Katya declared a small victory for making her crack a smile.

“If I’d been single forever, I’d have been perfectly fine.”

Maybe not perfectly fine, but Pearl didn’t need to know that, the things Katya had done before Trixie came into her life not really things she was particularly proud of.

“I liked being free.” Katya shrugged, trying it out.

“Mmmh?”

Bingo.

Katya hid a smirk, Pearl straightening up the moment freedom had been mentioned.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Pearl was struggling in her relationship with Adore, that her friend was probably freaking out about being with someone for any extended amount of time, since Katya had never seen Pearl do anything like what she doing now, long-term relationships not really the Liaison brand.

“But I met Trix, and I like him more than freedom. Or, well, that’s not really accurate. Actually…” Katya sat down beside Pearl. “The truth is, I feel my freest when I’m with him. Knowing that he’s in my corner. But I mean, knowing for sure? I just don’t think certainty is in my nature. Luckily, it’s in his. That’s why we’re a good team.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. You guys are a good team.” Pearl sighed.

“Do you feel like you guys are a good team?” Katya asked carefully.

“Sometimes. I mean...we’re a lot alike. Maybe too much alike. I dunno.” Pearl avoided Katya’s gaze.

“Here’s a question...are you happier with her, or without her?” Katya asked.

“I...don’t know.”

Katya reached for Pearl’s hand. “Pearl, listen. I like Adore, a lot actually. I think she’s sweet and beautiful and funny and she obviously cares about you so much. But I also think that stringing her along when you’re feeling like this...it’s not fair to either of you.”

“I just don’t want to give up so fast!” Pearl exclaimed. “I always do that. I promised myself that I would actually try this time.”

“Well, then maybe you just need to be reminded of why you got together in the first place.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Also...now I don’t want to sound like I’m preaching here,” Katya began.

“No, it’s fine. I asked for your opinion,” Pearl said.

“Well...in my experience...it’s really hard to maintain any kind of real relationship--friendship, romantic, whatever--if you prioritize your ego over the other person’s feelings.”

Pearl blinked at her for a few seconds, letting the comment sink in, before dropping her head to the table with a soft, “fuck…”

Katya chuckled and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. “You’ll be alright.”

***

“Drink drink drink drink drink drink drink drink YEAHHHHHHH!” The girls cheered as Adore finished her beer and slammed the empty glass down on the table.

Adore laughed, wiping her mouth, looking around at the group. Originally, when Courtney had introduced her to these girls years ago as “my sorority sisters,” she was picturing stuck-up, prissy little spoiled brats, who would judge her and never accept her - the punk rock lesbian who walked around in bare feet and no bra most of the time.

She was pleasantly surprised when they ended up being fun, and mostly turned their Mean Girls Judgement on others, or each other. Somehow Adore became the untouchable and beloved mascot of the group, the cool, alternative one who gave them all street cred. Tyra loved her because they were both from the South, both from big families and both of them possessed deeply developed bullshit detectors. Tati enjoyed doing shots with her and wreaking havoc (and was good for a sloppy drunken makeout session at least a few times a year) and Morgan - well, Morgan was kind of a cunt, but in the very best way. It was part of her charm, and, as she explained it, part of her Scottish heritage.

This night out with her friends was exactly what she needed to take her mind off her current relationship drama. She’d only spoken to Pearl once since their fight the other day, and it was tense, Pearl claiming to be running into a meeting. After that, nothing. No messages, no calls--she still wasn’t 100% sure where things stood between them.

Adore turned to Courtney, who absentmindedly stirred her drink with a straw, staring into space. She’d already noticed a bit of a change in her mood from a week ago - there was definitely something lighter about her. Still, quiet wistfulness wasn’t her general M.O. in a club - usually she was the first one on the dance floor. Adore nudged her gently with a hip.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Courtney turned to her with a little smile, green eyes soft.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course! I always have fun with you,” she said, wrapping her arms around Adore’s waist and cuddling closer, laying a head on her shoulder.

Adore pressed the kiss to the top of her head before asking the other question on her mind, “So...um...what’s going on with you and my sister?”

Courtney’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I heard you hung out today…and that you’re joining us for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh. Right. No, I just ran into her by chance.”

“Where the hell are you hanging out, where you run into someone like that?” Morgan asked. “The fuckin’ SoHo house?”

“It was a bookstore.”

“Ugh, smart bitch.”

“And like…she bought me lunch because she knows I’m poor,” Courtney explained, “and since you guys will be in town and I don’t have family here, she just asked if I wanted to come.”

“Oh yeah, no big deal,” Tyra cut in, “She just took you on a date and then invited you to a family holiday…”

“It wasn’t a date!” Courtney said, laughing. “It was really all just very casual. She was just being nice.”

“Being nice for no reason. Sounds like Bianca alright,” Adore said, one eyebrow raised, and Courtney giggled again, shrugging.

“Maybe she’s nicer than you think.”

“Listen, Courtney, I’m glad you’re gonna be there because I love you. But just...you know, my sister is very...uh…”

“Yeah?”

“No, she’s great. Like, she’s the best. But…” Adore trailed off, grabbing a shot from the round Morgan was setting on the table and tossing it back.

It felt weird to be having this conversation. Did she really need to warn Courtney about Bianca? After all, B had joked about hitting on her before but never actually done anything. And what would she even say? ‘My sister is very good at charming the pants off every girl who catches her attention--especially the blondes’? ‘Beware the dimples’? She was certain that Bianca would never make a move on someone who didn’t want it, so...why not just leave it alone?

“You know what? Nevermind. Whose phone is that?” Adore felt her pocket, realizing that the out of control buzzing was her own phone--hopefully not her sister being an impatient cunt about Courtney’s number.

PEARL: Hey. I’m sorry about how I acted on Thursday.

PEARL: And yesterday

PEARL: There’s a warehouse party in Brooklyn tomorrow

PEARL: At the navy yard. Wanna go?

PEARL: It’s right by Grimaldi’s…

PEARL: Best pizza in NY

PEARL: My treat

ADORE: So you like pizza again, huh?

PEARL: It’s my favorite ;)

ADORE: Lol, okay, I’m in. <3

Adore looked back up at her friends, grinning at the group. “Let’s go dance!”

***

Sutan wasn’t nervous.

He wasn’t, because that would be ridiculous.

Sutan took a sip of his coffee, watching people walk by the cafe he was sitting at. It was a surprisingly sunny Saturday for October, the air crisp and fresh. He had already waited for 20 minutes, Violet once again late, but Sutan had asked for a chocolate croissant with his first cup of coffee, his girlfriend's time management skills surprisingly terrible.

Sutan was planning to invite Violet to Aspen with him, Raja and Raven for their annual ski trip. It was a tradition of theirs, Raja and he owning a cabin together that they visited every year. He wasn’t a brilliant skier, but he liked the mountain air, the sense of freedom, and of being disconnected while out on the slopes.

He had thought about inviting Violet along for weeks, Raven needling him about whether or not Violet would be coming with him.

Sutan wanted Violet to join them. Wanted to see her all dressed up in winter wear, wanted to teach her how to ski and have drinks by the fire in the evening.

There was just the teeny tiny insignificant detail, that the last time he had asked someone to come with him and Raja to Aspen, it had been a terrible time.

He didn’t hate Kahmora, at least not any more, their divorce lasting longer than their marriage, but he still felt a sense of dread every time he visited L.A. - which was why he avoided the city as much as he could, Kahmora thankfully relocating once they severed ties.

Violet wasn’t Kahmora though, actually, they were as different as day and night.

“Hey.”

Sutan turned his head to see Violet come walking towards him, her coat closely around her, her new bag in hand, and Sutan was glad he had splurged for the largest model Dior made, the purse already stuffed.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Violet pressed a kiss against his cheek, sliding in on the other side of the table, her dress brushing against him. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

Violet didn’t need to know that he already finished a chocolate croissant, that sin between him and his trainer.

“Ah,” Violet looked guilty for a second, brushing a bit of her hair behind her ear, her earring of the day a tiny golden hook. “Sorry, I was at work and time just flew by-”

“Work?” Sutan twisted his wrist, taking a peek at his Rolex. “It’s 10:33 on a Saturday?”

“I went in at 6.” Violet picked the menu up, the fact that she tried to pretend that she wasn’t going to order avocado on rye kind of cute. “I know I have to turn my dress over to tailoring sooner or later-”

“But you want to finish as much as you can?” Sutan smiled, emptying his coffee cup. “Of course.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Sutan held up his hands in defense. “Promise.” He couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Violet’s right hand, her fingertips thankfully not the raw red points he had helped wrap and put ice on. “It’s just very dedicated-”

“This is my first chance to get an actual piece on the runway. It has to be perfect-” Violet was cut off as the waiter came over, Sutan hiding a grin as she ordered avocado on rye, his second breakfast a plate of scrambled eggs and salmon.

“Speaking of perfect.” Sutan moved his chair while the waiter walked away, his stomach tied up in a knot. “I was wondering, if…”

“Yes?” Violet tilted her head, clearly listening, her brow eyes resting on his face.

“If you’d like...” Sutan had no idea why this was so hard, “to come to Aspen with Raja, Raven and I in January?”

“What?” Violet looked genuinely confused.

“Raja and I own a cabin, and-”

“Like, in Colorado? Like Aspen Aspen? Like posh skiing Aspen?”

“Yes?” Sutan lifted a brow. “Do you know any other Aspen?”

“No, but I-” Violet bit her lip, her white teeth sinking into it. “I don’t know how to ski?”

“Oh,” Sutan laughed, the admission not at all what he had expected. “Well, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “I can promise you, that that is not a problem.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #bitney #adore x pearl #vitan #courtney act #bianca del rio #miss fame #katya zamolodchikova #pearl liaison #adore delano #raja gemini #violet chachki #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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everwitch-magiks · 5 years ago

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dance with somebody (ch. 5)

(ch. 1) (ch. 2) (ch. 3) (ch. 4)

Whiskey takes the stairs two steps at a time.

His heart is racing as he turns the corner, immediately heading for his own room. He barely registers passing by a vaguely curious Hops as he practically runs the last few steps. As soon as he's made it inside, he closes the door firmly behind himself and then locks it.

Whiskey's pulse is frighteningly close to a level that's comparable to mid-game in the playoffs, when the call finally connects.

“... Connor?”

Whiskey tries to take a breath – not even a deep breath, for fucks sake, if he could just fucking breathe at all-

“Beth. Hey.”

For some reason, Bethany Whisk almost laughs.

“For someone who did not just come out to our entire extended family, you sure sound like shit, Connor.”

Whiskey let’s himself sink down onto his bed, his head in his hands.

“What, uh. When’d you… How bad is it?”

The text hadn’t exactly clarified much. just outed myself to my parents and yours, over sunday dinner. everything a lil yikes. thought u should know

“Pretty bad.” Beth’s voice is strangely calm. “Although actually, not quite the worst case scenario? But close, yeah. Real close.”

“Shit,” Whiskey mutters.

“Yeah. My dad’s gone off somewhere – he sort of just got up and left, pretty soon after I’d said it? So that’ll be lots of fun when he gets back. Mom’s a lot calmer, comparatively. Said she needs to think. Which I’ve classified as ambiguous, but not completely hopeless.”

“What about…” Whiskey begins, his tone hoarse, and then he doesn’t finish the sentence.

He can’t finish the sentence.

“Oh, your folks weren’t too bad.” Beth pauses for a moment, as if to think. “I got the feeling they weren’t really angry – it was more like pity, I guess? Which wasn’t super fun either, gotta admit that. Your mom said it’s so sad I’ll never have children, and so of course I had to deliver the news that many lesbian women have plenty of kids, and then she looked, like, super confused. I’m so fucking relieved she stopped asking questions, after that.”

Whiskey gets up, only to sit back down again. He’s trembling all over. It’s almost like he can feel the way his whole world has just shifted, like there’s an actual, physical change between right now and five minutes ago.

"Are you… D'you need anything? What can I do?"

"Oh, Connor." Beth's tone is uncharacteristically soft. "You know, I pretty much knew I’d never have to worry about your reaction. Because actually, I have a feeling you get it – like, really get it. Don’t you?”

Whiskey freezes.

"Considering your hockey team," Beth continues, completely oblivious. "Your captain is the first out something, isn’t he? Which is so cool, by the way, even though I don’t give many fucks about hockey.”

It takes Whiskey a moment to find his voice again.

"First out NCAA men’s hockey captain,” he rattles off, and it’s lucky that’s something he could quote in his sleep, or he’d get the words all mixed up. “Yeah, uh. That was Bitty. He graduated this spring. But our captain this year – Dex – is actually dating his defence partner, so.”

"Defence what now?"

"Another player on our team."

“Wow,” Beth says, and there’s something not unlike wonder in her tone. “I guess it’s all true, those things they say about Samwell.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey returns unsteadily. “You have no idea, Beth.”

Beth is quiet for a moment.

“So I’m flying back tomorrow,” she says, and for some reason her voice sounds a little different from before – more determined. “You know, Samwell is less than a four hour drive from Columbia.”

“Is that so.”

“It is. We could, y’know. Hang out sometime? Anyway, you should meet Melanie.”

“... Oh,” Whiskey says, and it’s like he has to pause and process all over again. “Melanie. Huh.”

“You’ll like Mel,” Beth says eagerly. “And I could meet your team, maybe? That’d be fun.”

“That would be fun,” Whiskey says after a beat – it surprises him, that he actually, genuinely means it. He’s missed Beth. “Yeah. We should do that.”

“See, this is why you’re my favourite cousin.” Beth sounds extremely pleased. “Josh and Amy haven’t even returned my texts, yet.”

“To be fair, they kind of always sucked.”

“You speak the truth, my friend. Nothing but the truth.”

“Seriously, though,” Whiskey says. “If you, like, need anything? Anything at all? Let me know. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.” Beth’s tone is warm. “I think I’ll be fine. Like I said, I’m flying back tomorrow, and once I’m back at school there’s not much mom and dad can do, even if they try. I’m on a full scholarship, plus I’ve already got a paid internship lined up for next summer, so I’m basically financially independent at this point. And I’ve made some really amazing friends at Columbia. They’ll help me out.”

“They’ve got your back?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Good.”

“So,” Beth continues, her tone for some reason a bit sly. “Your mom told me you’re back together with that girl from Phoenix? That was right before I dropped the big lesbian bomb on everyone, so I didn’t get to ask her, like, anything.”

“... Yeah,” Whiskey confirms uneasily. “We got back together during spring break last semester, yeah.”

“That’s nice.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Don’t you know?”

“I mean, I don’t see her a lot,” Whiskey tries.

Beth hums. “Long distance, huh. That’s tough.”

“No, that’s not…” Whiskey draws a shaky breath. It’s so much easier to lie to everyone else. “Beth. Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything, C.”

“Right.” Whiskey tries to keep his voice steady. “Just, can you promise me to… To pretend like I didn’t actually tell you? To just never bring it up again. Ever.”

“I mean, sure.” Beth’s tone is kind, if a little surprised. “If that’s what you want, sure.”

Whiskey closes his eyes, and breathes in.

“I slept with a guy.”

For a moment, Beth is quiet.

“All right,” she says gently. “You know that’s not the end of the world, right?”

“No, I guess.” Whiskey’s voice is shaking. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

Beth hums. “You want to do it again?”

“We uh, we did.” Whiskey clears his throat. “A few times. Last semester.”

“Hold up,” Beth says, her tone startled. “You’ve been sleeping with a guy? Frequently?”

“Not since last semester,” Whiskey reminds her quickly. “But, uh, yeah. For a while there it was every now and then.”

Beth is quiet for a moment.

“Is this the part where I smoothly change the subject and we never speak of this again? Because I’m, like, dying to get all the details.”

Whiskey almost smiles.

Somehow, breathing feels a little easier than before.

“He’s on the lacrosse team,” he supplies, surprising himself.

“Athletic,” Beth concludes, her tone giddy. “Fit? Hot?”

“Really fit,” Whiskey admits. “And like, tall?”

“Fucking get it, Connor!” Beth laughs. “But you’re not seeing each other, anymore?”

“I’m back together with my girlfriend,” Whiskey reminds her tersely. “And me and that guy weren’t ever officially anything.”

“Right,” Beth agrees easily. “Still. Glad to hear you’re getting the full Samwell experience.”

“You could say that.” Whiskey sighs. “I just. I’m not sure… I don’t think I can ever do what you just did.”

“Okay,” Beth says gently. “Do you have to, though?”

“I mean, eventually,” Whiskey tells her uneasily. “Right? People come out, eventually.”

“Not everyone does. Some people don’t.”

Whiskey blinks.

“There’s really a lot more to being gay than coming out,” Beth continues. “I would know.”

“I’m not gay,” Whiskey says reflexively – and really, he isn’t. Not strictly.

“No labels, then? Cool, cool." There's warmth in Beth's voice as she continues. "You'll figure all of this out, Connor. I'm sure you will."

"You're not the first person to tell me that."

"Let's hope I won't be the last," Beth says brightly. "So. How many people know?"

"Noone," Whiskey says quickly – too quickly. "Well, you know now. Bitty found out accidentally, and I almost told Dex. Plus I guess that guy I was with has a hunch."

"Right," Beth says, and there's no judgement in her tone. "So when we come to see you, this conversation never happened. Obviously, I'm not telling Melanie."

"Yeah," Whiskey agrees. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Beth."

"No problem. And on that happy subject, when’s a good weekend for me and Mel to drive up for some Samwell shenanigans?”

“I can send you our game schedule," Whiskey suggests.

“Connor, you know I love you, but please tell me you don’t expect me to sit through an entire game of sports.”

“I mostly meant so you’ll know when we have away games,” Whiskey says, and to his own surprise he’s grinning slightly. “You know, so that I’m not in fucking New Jersey when you show up here.”

“Okay, fair point.” Beth pauses. “By the way. Are you any good?”

“What, at hockey?”

“No, at table tennis.” The eye-roll is near audible.

“I am,” Whiskey says. “Good, I mean. I’m the top scorer on our team.”

“Well, that’s only good if the team is.”

“You know, maybe you guys should actually drive up for a game weekend,” Whiskey tells her. “It’s really not a complete Samwell experience without a proper post-game kegster.”

“A what now?”

“A party, Beth. A huge party. At the hockey frat.”

“See, now you’re talking,” Beth says excitedly. “Hey. Mind if I bring some friends?”

(ch. 6)

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #checkpleasespoilers #connor whisk #OC: Bethany Whisk #dance with somebody #at it with the angst again #a bit lighter than the last part #hopeful #mentions of parents not reacting well to their kid coming out #evie writes #fanfiction

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years ago

Text

Black Coffee (chapter two)

Thank you so much for your response to this fic, I’m so glad people like it. Special thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

If you enjoyed this, lease consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi page! It really means a lot.

Chapters: 1

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Percy hadn’t dressed for a date in a very long time.

In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he ever had. He’d only ever had one relationship, back at boarding school, and he’d only had two outfit choices back then. School uniform or rugby kit. Somehow he didn’t think he’d still be able to pull that off at thirty.

He rifled through his wardrobe one more time, metal clacking reproachfully with each poor offering. Too boring…too stuffy…oil stains…oil stains…ripped…

With a noise of frustration he hiked his bath towel further up his hips, it had started to slip. The only clothes he seemed to own were either designed for a mansion’s ballroom or not fit to be seen outside his workshop. Maybe he had time to go into town and pick something new but even then, what sort of thing should he get?

Percy ran a hand through his hair. He probably wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this. This wasn’t a real date, it was a service. Why was he so concerned with looking good for Vax’ildan, when the half elf likely thought of this as work rather than anything recreational?

“This whole thing was supposed to help you relax a little,” he grumbled at his reflection, half visible in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door, “Not stress you out more.”

His reflection didn’t seem to have an answer for that. It just stared back at him, eyes large and owlish without his glasses, hair sticking up after the shower. Living off takeaway food whenever he actually remembered he needed to eat clearly wasn’t doing him a lot of favours; where he wasn’t rail thin he was more round than he wanted to be. He was a very unhealthy kind of pale, everywhere except the very ill thought out tattoos he’d gotten when he was younger.

In short, he looked like no one’s dream date.

Part of Percy wanted so desperately to turn off the lights and crawl back under his blankets. Or maybe go to his workshop- the larger room in his penthouse that was really supposed to be the master bedroom- and lose himself in cogs and wires and screws. There would always be an answer there. There was always a way to make things fit, a solution he understood. He’d find no such certainty out there, stumbling awkwardly through a facsimile of a relationship.

That part of him was dangerously close to winning when he turned and saw his laptop, a sleek and black machine on his sleek and black sheets, still open, it’s glow reproving and impatient. Percy’s email was still open, the cursor blinking away on the still stubbornly blank message.

Cassandra had emailed him two days ago now. A short and to the point email, appearing cold to anyone who didn’t know his sister but Percy knew how to read the concern in those few words, asking how her brother was, what he was up to. He knew the words that weren’t written as plainly but were there nonetheless. I’m worried about you. Please tell me you’re at least a little bit okay.

She was halfway across the country now, studying at a good university though Percy could picture the horror on his father’s face if he ever heard his only remaining daughter had wandered outside of the Ivy League. But Cassandra hadn’t been concerned about prestige. She’d wanted distance.

She’d run from their parent’s city as quickly as Percy had become welded to it.

He hadn’t replied yet, hence the empty page. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

Hi Cassie, glad to hear you’re doing well and achieving all your dreams and making me so proud even though I’m too much of an emotionally constipated arse to show it. I’ve done absolutely nothing since you left, short of skipping counselling, talking to screwdrivers more than living things, moving like a robot through the activities I think our parents would want me to do and haunting our father’s penthouse like some depraved Phantom of the Opera. Keyleth’s still around though, I continue to be a shitty friend to her. Lots of love, your worthless brother.

Percy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, where there were always two perfect red indentations from his glasses.

Admittedly, hiring someone to have sex and play romance with you wasn’t the sort of thing that he was going to put in an email to his sister. But he’d be able to say he’d left the house. He was meeting new people. He was doing things.

He’d be able to say he was getting a little closer to being okay.

Decisively, Percy closed his laptop but reached for his phone, lying on the nightstand where it had woken him up a full five hours before his date. It took less than two minutes to send a text to Keyleth.

Want to go shopping with me? Need a date outfit.

Vax woke up, as he often did, with a mouthful of fur.

“Urgh,” he groaned, shoving against the great weight on his chest, “Trinket, get off, you’re disgusting.”

Of course it didn’t come out as coherent as that, seeing as his brain wasn’t fully awake. But that was what he’d intended to say.

The large dog whined, not enjoying being evicted from the nice warm bed, landing on the floor with a thump after a dedicated shove from Vax. Neither of them were sure what kind of dog the enormous, dark brown ball of fluff was but all he knew was that he was a hell of a lot bigger than the shelter and his sister had promised he’d be.

“Don’t be mean to my dog!” his sister yelled from the next room, hearing the thump.

“Then tell your horse to stop smothering me in my sleep! If you’re going to try and assassinate me, be a little more creative,” Vax shot back, though he was frowning. His sister was still here? What time was it?

He clawed around for his phone, eventually plucking it from his many blankets, though not until he’d come up with a lipstick, a sock and a chewed up tennis ball. According to the screen, still perfectly functioning even with the hairline crack through it, it was nearly eleven.

Not bad for Vax’ildan. He’d been averaging noon the last few weeks.

Still on his screen were the messages he’d been exchanging with Percy last night. Though it didn’t say Percy on the text windows, he’d decided to keep the name Orthax in a fit of romanticism and intrigue, with an emoji of a red flower beside it. It was very much a tulip and not a carnation but it was the closest he could get.

They’d been texting quite comfortably in the day since they’d first met up and had set their first proper date for that afternoon. Which, shit the bed, Vax now only had an hour and a half to get ready for.

Cursing, he jumped up, staggering a little when his legs momentarily forgot they were legs, surging forward into the room that was half their kitchen, half their living room and too small to be either. His sister was sitting on the sofa, not even dressed for work, reading a book while petting Trinket’s ear. The dog was whining and making himself look very hard done by, probably to get Vax even further in trouble.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Vax paused, “Did you burn the bakery down?”

Vex worked half a hundred odd jobs around the city, often going straight from one to the other, changing her uniforms in the subway bathrooms. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays she worked the early shifts at a bakery a few blocks away, putting in the morning bread and folding croissants. Often she’d come home with some misshapen goodies for supper, making that Vax’s favourite of her jobs.

Not that he really enjoyed seeing his sister run herself ragged, coming in at ridiculous hours to snatch what sleep she could and still struggling to make rent, rarely having the time to do the one thing she really enjoyed- volunteering at the animal shelter.

Though maybe if she did spend more time there, she’d come home with more dogs. Vax could live without that.

Vex wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, “They’re installing new ovens. I’m not the one who put a fork in the microwave last week.”

Vax tried to look offended as only someone entirely guilty of what they were being accused of could, “It was a rare lapse in judgement…”

After a very pointed eye roll, Vex jerked her thumb in the direction of the kitchen counter, “A package came for you, by the way.”

Knowing he still had very little time to get ready but curiosity piqued, Vax wandered over to see a small, brown paper package with his address inked in a very neat hand. He unwrapped it, thinking how he hadn’t had any post for so long, feeling that nostalgic rush of excitement like a little kid with a birthday present.

Inside he found a bag of coffee. The kind Caduceus made and sold at his café. And written on a little post it, right on the front was the same handwriting as the address and suddenly the neatness of the hand seemed so perfect, fitting the voice that accompanied it.

Good morning! See you soon xx P

“What are you doing, you goof?”

Vax had been grinning ridiculously wide for a long time before he even realised he was doing it and his sister’s remark made him suddenly grasp what an idiot he must seem. And how he definitely hadn’t been planning on explaining his new situation this soon. Or with foggy, just-woke-up brain.

“Uh…” he looked up, “Just…a present. From a friend.”

Vex narrowed her eyes, “A friend? What kind of friend?”

“The kind that sends me coffee,” Vax tried to look haughty, “Do you want some or not?”

“That seems very…niche.”

“And?” Vax could feel his voice getting higher and more defensive and entirely less convincing, “Look, no time, I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Gods above, what’s with the third degree this morning? Tie me down and shine a line in my eyes, why don’t you?”

Vex’ahlia watched her brother storm off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as if he had anything to be incensed about. She sighed and turned back to Trinket as he heavily put his head in his mama’s lap.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal…” she murmured to him.

The dog blinked large brown eyes at her.

“You’re right, it probably is,” Vex groaned.

Vax reappeared a little while later, he never stayed in the shower for long. He marched past, towel cinched under his arms, going in front of the sofa so his sister couldn’t miss how he tossed his dripping wet hair and sniffed huffily. He slammed the door of his bedroom, leaving behind a scent that was unmistakably Vex’s favourite, treat day only shampoo.

She resolved to steal some of his coffee as soon as he was gone.

Vax had decided early on to meet always Percy somewhere other than his apartment.

There were a good long list of reasons for this. It would save Percy from being crushed to death under 250 pounds of affection starved dog. It would avoid him coming into contact with Vex, which would only lead to awkward questions and maybe Percy having an arrow fired at him if he startled her on her way to her archery class.

And, most importantly, Vax didn’t want him seeing his place. Not that he was ashamed or anything, he just didn’t want to feel like he had to defend it from someone who clearly lived in penthouses and country mansions. He and his sister had worked so hard to get the life they had now, earning their independence and freedom with tears and sleepless nights. It would always be sweet to them, even if it was poky, cluttered and had a damp problem they couldn’t get rid of.

Vax didn’t want to see everything they’d won look shabby and insignificant through someone else’s eyes; it would taste too much of Syldor. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold back his anger if that happened.

He’d never heard of the restaurant Percy offered to take him to, but he managed to find it and seated himself nice and obviously on the railings across the street. After two minutes of watching the place, Vax realised why he’d never been there. It was so far out of his price range, it may as well have been in a neighbouring galaxy.

He looked down at himself, his large boots and artfully ripped jeans (done by Vex after he put one of the knees through) and loose striped jumper in black and grey. His heart sank as he realised he really wasn’t dressed for this kind of place.

“Vax’ildan!”

His voice was full of warmth, he sounded genuinely delighted to see him. That alone would have caused the delicate, rosy blush on the tips of his pointed ears, if he hadn’t also looked drop dead gorgeous.

Their last meeting, there had definitely been handsomeness lurking under the exhaustion and nerves but this time Percy wasn’t hiding it, he was wearing it plain on his face. His hair was trimmed and smoothed over one side, everything underneath a white buzz that looked almost silver in the afternoon sun. His jaw was clean shaven however, taking years off him in an instant.

And he was wearing a suit. Vax suddenly realised he liked men in suits.

“Percy,” he stood, smiling, accepting the embrace that came his way. Gods, he even smelled expensive.

“I feared I’d imagined how handsome you were last time,” Percy dropped his voice to a more intimate volume as he pulled away, a smile pulling one side of his mouth up, “Apparently not.”

Vax’s ears coloured even more and he was suddenly glad he always styled his hair to cover them.

That’s how they were doing things, huh?

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he smirked, resting a hand on Percy’s hip, “You look lovely, by the way.”

Percy’s confidence suddenly slipped and he gave a bashful smile, “My friend helped me choose it. She’s way better at that sort of stuff than me.”

Vax’s smile became warmer. He found he liked self-assured Percy and awkward nerd Percy. They were less two sides of a coin and more a changeable day of weather in the same sky.

“Well my compliments to her for choosing it and you for looking so good in it,” he grinned, sliding his arm through Percy’s, “Though you’re going to look even better next to me. I forgot who I was going to lunch with…”

Percy stopped, dismay crashing over his expression, “Oh…Vax, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think, I’m sorry if I made you feel like that…”

Vax grimaced, “Percy, no…bad joke, sorry. It’s fine. Though…if there’s a dress code, we might not be getting in…”

“I, um…” Percy coloured a little, “I don’t get turned away from places.”

“Of course not,” Vax looked down at his boots, drawing away from him.

“And…well,” Percy looked through the windows, into the warm exterior of the restaurant, “All those people in there are very well dressed. And I’d much rather spend an evening with you than any one of them. Funny, isn’t it?”

Vax lifted his eyes, so startled it took a few seconds for laughter kicked in, sudden and bright.

“Gods and I thought you were flattering me before…”

“There’s flattery and then there’s truth,” Percy smiled and for a moment, both kinds of weather could be seen in the sky like sun shining through drizzle. It was fairly beautiful.

Once enveloped in the warm, rustic Italian ambiance of the restaurant, the two of them began to talk, each of them surprised by how much they were sharing.

Vax learned that Percy also had a sister, though he didn’t live with her, younger than he was. Neither of them said a word about parents and both were happy with that arrangement. He learned Percy was thirty, had played rugby at his all boys school and would still like to but he didn’t know any teams nearby. He learned he had a mild addiction to video games, was allergic to shellfish and was kind to waitstaff.

Percy learned Vax’ildan preferred red wine to white, partly for the aesthetic which he happily confessed. He learned he’d been out as trans for three years, had been dancing since he was ten and thought tap was a criminally underrated art medium. He had just about every possible ear piercing going, which he shyly showed Percy after a little cajoling, always preferred the second act of a musical to the first and was a very fast eater.

“So…” Percy eventually broached, once he’d finished the last of his affogato, “What would you say to going back to my place after this?”

Vax stopped wondering if there was a subtle way to lick the last smears of chocolate off his plate and looked up, smiling easily, “Of course. Sounds lovely.”

He did a little internal check and found no lingering reservations. Have some probably average at best sex with a handsome, affable guy? He’d heard of worse ways to make rent.

As they walked to Percy’s car, Vax felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a message from his sister.

Are you okay? What do you want to do for dinner?

Vax felt a rush of guilt. He probably should have made sure there were leftovers to take home for her. That was the usual policy when one of them went on a date. The arancini had just tasted so damn good, he’d forgotten.

Sorry, I just ate with a friend. Don’t worry about me.

Less than two minutes later, a reply.

The same friend you mentioned this morning?

Vax narrowed his eyes.

None of your beeswax.

And yes.

“Okay, this is me.”

Vax knew nothing about cars but he could read luxury in the sleek lines of black metal, the silvered wink of axel and ridiculous hood ornament, “Woah…”

“Cars are kind of the one thing I let myself get a little crazy over,” Percy admitted, opening the passenger door for him, “Benefits of having money and being a bit of a nerd for engineering.”

“Yeah well,” Vax shrugged, “You should see my Metro card. It’s pretty swish.”

Percy laughed, sliding in behind the wheel and bringing the engine to life. Vax wondered quietly when the last time someone drove him somewhere was, when he wasn’t left to get wherever he wanted to go on his own two feet.

Of course it was impossible to get to any kind of speed, driving in a city as dense as this, though there was enough power in just the purr of the engine to make Vax anxious if Percy wasn’t such a methodical driver. His hands rarely left the wheel, flitting from here to there when they had to but always returning, blue eyes aware and fixed ahead.

He went to turn on the radio…though drew his hand back after a pause, “Actually…we should probably have a talk about this.”

“About what?” Vax tilted his head.

“Well…about what kind of things we like? About what we don’t like?” Percy bit his lip, “You know. In bed.”

“Oh right,” Vax waited for Percy to say more though none came and he assumed it was his turn first. Clearly Percy’s poised manner of speaking was struggling with talking about sex.

He thought for a moment, deciding to be a little more honest than he was anticipating, a little surer in getting a good reaction, “I don’t usually like being penetrated. Some days I’m down for it but they’re few and far between. Mouth down there is fine but if you’re careful about, you know, the words you use, nothing too specific…I’d appreciate that.”

Percy nodded, still watching the road carefully though he was clearly listening intently, “Okay. Well, that makes what I was going to ask you a lot simpler.”

Vax hummed curiously, prompting him with a look.

Cheeks now fully red, Percy managed to force out in a rush, “I was going to ask if you fancied fucking me?��

Vax gave a bark of delighted laughter, “Atta boy, that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

“Shut up,” Percy was still the colour of Vax’s wine but laughter was bubbling up, “Take this as a warning for the level of inexperience you’re dealing with. In fact, that’s part of the reason why I got in contact with you. Your job is to help me introduce a little bit of…variety into my bedroom. How does that sound?”

Vax grinned, tucking one leg up to his chest, “That sounds like something we can definitely do.”

Vax knew he should be impressed. How could he not be, after seeing the sheer size of the apartment block, a dizzying behemoth of glass and steel that warped perspective in a sickening way, and the opulence of the foyer, everything modern and styled with an effortless hand.

And he was, for a very brief moment. When the elevator doors slid open, right into Percy’s living room and he was shocked by the vista from the wrap around windows, the city wreathed in dusk like a watercolour painting that needed two glances to see was really real, he was too awestruck to speak.

And then all he could think was that this didn’t feel like a home. It felt unlived in. It was like an Ikea showroom, fun to imagine lounging around in but it was sterile and barren. Like a hotel room, like somewhere kept exclusively by a businessman for when he was in the city. Nowhere to really live.

And, as he took him on a tour that didn’t take very long because there was very little in the apartment, Percy looked so lonely. Everything around him seemed too big, making him look like a little kid playing at being his father. Vax watched him rattle around in the black leather, polished silver, exposed brickwork rooms, feeling a strange sense of pity that he couldn’t pin down.

“And this is the bedroom…” Percy pushed back the door, holding it for Vax.

Not my room. The bedroom.

It did have a little more life to it, a good amount of mess that had clearly been hurriedly tidied away that morning. Books, a small TV clearly only there for the benefit of the games console resting against it, half-finished projects of cogs and soldered pipes, blue prints tacked up on the walls that were so detailed and covered in scribbled notes they were incomprehensible to Vax. There was even something living, a plant on the windowsill with brilliant white blooms that were jug shaped and gave off a wonderful smell, kind of like a lily.

“What’s this?” Vax asked, stroking one of its wide, shiny green leaves.

“Oh,” Percy took off his suit jacket, hanging it idly on the door, “A present from my friend, Keyleth. She’s a druid, spends all her time minding the wildlife in the national park outside the city, breeds her own new strains when the mood takes her. She named that one after me as a bit of a joke.”

“What’s the joke?” Vax’s ears picked up with interest.

Percy stopped in the middle of taking off his tie, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, “Oh, it’s, um…kind of an inside thing…”

“You are not getting away with that, absolutely no chance,” Vax raised an eyebrow, folding his arms determinedly.

“Gods, I wanted to wait as long as possible before I had to tell you this,” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew, “We haven’t even had sex yet…”

“I promise I’ll still have sex with you!” Vax wheedled, kneeling on the bed, leaning towards him eagerly, “Tell me!”

“It’s…I’m going to murder Keyleth…it’s called the Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III Lilium…I mean, the lilium part isn’t in my name obviously…that’s the plant…”

Vax paused, carefully controlling his expression, “Oh…”

Percy winced, “Are you still willing to have sex with me?”

“You said you’d pay my rent, right?”

“Yes.”

“We can still have sex.”

Percy looked abashed for a moment until Vax couldn’t maintain his composure and burst out laughing, soon catching his riotous cackling in spite of himself.

Once they’d caught their breath, Percy found himself down to his shirt and pants, the next step in undressing rather a major one, “Mind if I…?”

Vax gave an encouraging gesture, perching on the sheets, eyes interested. The being watched, the sudden irrefutable presence of another heartbeat in the room, another set of eyes on him that hadn’t been there before, had something inside him stirring.

He couldn’t say any more than that yet. Just something. But he wanted to chase after it.

He took his shirt off slowly, methodically, not yanking it off and tossing it to one side like he normally would. He was suddenly so aware of everything, every single movement he made, every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Nice ink,” was the only comment Vax made as he abandoned shirt and trousers. But there was a spark of hunger in his almost black eyes and his pupils were widening by the second.

“Thank you,” Percy smirked, hooking his thumbs under the band of his boxer shorts, “I hate them. Relic of my misspent early twenties.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them one day,” the half elf returned easily, somehow the epicentre of the charged, wanton tension in the room despite being fully clothed down to the boots, “Now the underwear. Please.”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling something not unlike fireworks in his chest. He slid down the last bit of fabric preventing him from being completely and utterly naked (though he wasn’t sure if glasses counted) in front of another person in years.

“Well well…” Vax’s voice was a murmur though it hit Percy like electricity, “You’re a very handsome man, Percival.”

Percy didn’t want to admit how good those words made him feel, his body responding in kind, electricity gathering low in his stomach and between his legs, “Now you, please?”

Vax hopped up happily. Whereas Percy had been shy, methodical, aware of every move he made, his partner was haphazard and eager as if this was all very commonplace.

Though he stopped when Percy blurted, “That’s a little small, isn’t it?”

Vax froze, looking down at himself, only wearing his flesh coloured binder and his boxers. He didn’t enjoy this transition period and stopping still during it was jarring, “What?”

“Your…sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Percy bit his lip, “Your binder. It’s a little too small for you?”

“Well…” Vax shifted, “Yeah, I could do with the next size up but…this one still does the job, I guess. How do you even know that?”

“My boyfriend at boarding school was trans,” Percy explained quickly, “I did my research back then.”

“Oh,” Vax’s defensiveness drained away and he relaxed into the unfamiliar but welcome luxury of not feeling like a novelty, “Well remembered, then.”

It came off shortly after, anyway, along with his underwear. The look on Percy’s face was flattering to say the very least.

Oh yeah, both men had the exact same thought at the exact same time, unbeknownst to each other, I chose well.

“I ordered it on kind of a whim so I hope it’ll fit…”

Vax gave himself a long, indulgent look in the mirror. The harness was real leather and steel, the metal excitingly cold against his flesh, all of it cradling his hips perfectly. The toy itself was black, as if to match the straps that held it in place and married it to his body, black as Vax’s hair.

There was a lovely synergy to the whole look.

“Wicked,” he grinned, not really having heard a word Percy was saying.

He turned and gently pushed him back onto the bed, stopping his anxious muttering, turning it into soft gasp, so soft for such an angular man. Percy looked lovely against the black silk of his expansive bed, so startlingly pale, like he was negative space in the middle of the world.

Vax personally thought the best angle to view a lover from was while pinning them to the surface you were about to fuck them on. And Percy certainly didn’t disappoint, pupils as dilated as an excited cat, red flush spreading down from his cheeks across his chest like ink dropped in milk. Vax could watch as the breath caught in his throat.

A perfect time for a first kiss. And so that’s what he did.

He tasted of wine, white wine, but Vax thought he could learn to bear that t when it came from someone else’s lips. Percy’s hand came up and held him just right, resting right there on the nape of his neck, thumb close enough to feel his racing pulse. His own hand moved down and Percy’s long legs parted so easily for him, letting him feel that softer, warmer skin, the more tender parts of him.

The sweet man was hard enough to be steadily leaking pre already. It must have been a while since he’d had someone. Vax gave him a teasing squeeze but continued down, he had a job to do right now and was determined to do it well.

“Easy, sweetling, I just need to…” Vax gasped, their kiss having left his lungs burning around the edges. He snatched up the bottle of lube helpfully left on the nightstand, though with the immense size of the bed it was a bit of a reach. It was cool against his fingers, thick, the oddly scentless scent of it catapulting him back to other places, other bodies, other faces. To realising sex could be a lot of fun, to rediscovering himself under the hands of others.

He would always love it.

“Just get you good and ready…” he murmured, voice breathy and soft. All Percy could do was moan.

Turns out Percy was tight in more than just personality. But Vax’s fingers knew their business well and carefully, so carefully, he made the man underneath him yield. Percy whimpered as Vax’s fingers breached him, slick and cold, igniting everything inside him that had been waiting anxiously for the spark it needed.

“Vax’ildan…” he gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets and the tightly curled hair at the nape of his lover’s neck.

“It’s okay,” the whisper came in return, “Relax, deep breaths…”

Percy followed his instructions, feeling the thrill of giving himself over to someone else’s control. Evening had stolen away when neither of them were looking and the room had quickly become dark so everything was down to just shapes, devoid of detail.

He felt, rather than saw, Vax’s heart beat faster, teasing his own, beckoning for it to follow. He felt their skin pressed together, growing hot. He heard the smile in Vax’s voice, he felt the creeping cold of more lube running between his cheeks, he smelt sex and sweat and something amber sweet in Vax’s hair. He felt his muscles loosen, melting, becoming Vax’s to reshape as he chose.

“Ready for me?” the half elf whispered in his ear, the hand that wasn’t half buried in Percy resting delicately on his chest, almost chastely in bizarre contrast to the fingers that still rocked inside him, coming achingly close to his prostate but very deliberately not getting there.

“I need you,” Percy moaned, nerves prickling at the neediness in his own voice, the pleading.

Vax caught it too, teeth flashing in the gloom as he grinned, “Good boy.”

Not finishing in that moment took all of Percy’s brainpower, leaving him only enough to whimper, hoping that brought across how much he really, really liked that.

Vex shifted, pressing the rounded tip of the toy a breath into Percy, giving a feather soft groan as the pressure brought the other end of the toy flush against where he needed it. Percy himself swallowed back another whine, feeling the sweet stretch of his entrance. Obediently, he hooked his hands behind his knees and brought them to his chest, leaving himself even more open and exposed, offering himself completely.

He got exactly what he wanted. Vax moved further into him, hips finding a comfortable depth then rocking back and forth.

“Gods, that feels good…” Percy’s eyelids fluttered, his voice a smoky rasp, “Deeper…”

“I’m getting there,” Vax sounded delighted, “Let’s not walk before we can run or you’re not going to be able to do either tomorrow.”

But his thrusts were getting deeper, more deliberate, hitting both of their sweet spots at the same time. Percy began to keen at the apex of each one and soon Vax was grunting and gasping along with him, arms starting to shake and fingers starting to claw at the sheets.

“Can you come just from this? Just from having me in your ass?” Vax panted, whole body taut as a drawn bow.

Percy nodded, fingers leaving white marks in his own legs, “Yes, gods, I’m there, I’m coming…”

Vax grinned, timing it perfectly as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, hitting his prostate directly, swallowing Percy’s loud, shaky moan of release as he shuddered through his own.

It was a while before either of them could marshal words but Vax got there first, “And how was that, Percival Frankenstein von Whatever Lilypants?”

Percy made a sound that probably would have managed to be a laugh if he had any breath, “Damn that fucking plant…”

Giggling, Vax drew out of him and rolled onto his back, the whole room tipping around him and settling a little lopsided but he didn’t care.

“So…” Percy rolled over, lying on his stomach, probably getting the sheets filthy but that was already done, “I think this is going to work out?”

“Me too,” Vax smiled, “That was good.”

“I did set up the bank transfer, of course,” he added quickly, “I haven’t forgotten. Before the 15th, right?”

Vax hadn’t realised how heavy the stress of making that month’s rent had been, not until it disappeared in that moment.

“Thanks Percy. And the coffee was really sweet of you, by the way.”

Percy smiled and shrugged, though clearly pleased, “I thought it would be a nice way to start, at least until I get a few more ideas.”

Vax thought for a moment, letting himself actually want, trying to remember how that felt, “I like…oh, I like knives!”

As soon as it was out of his mouth he realised how that sounded and he clamped his jaw shut.

Percy looked at him, “Wait…what?”

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” Vax asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, “It’s going to leave a hole, you know that?”

Sat on the couch in a loosely cinched blue robe, Percy waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll repair any damage. Go ahead.”

“You might have to wave goodbye to your security deposit…” Vax warned, tossing the kitchen knife lightly from hand to hand, getting a better feel for its weight. Not a throwing knife by any means, a lot heavier and clunkier than his own set, but it would do for a demonstration.

“Vax’ildan, my sweet, if I’d ever had one of those it would have been gone years ago,” Percy arched an eyebrow, “But the company owns the building. Let fly.”

Vax laughed, taking aim at the square white pillar, part of the partition between the kitchen and the living space, immaculately painted and polished. And ideal to plant a knife in. He focused, drew in a long slow breath and then released it as his hand flashed forward.

Half a heartbeat later, the knife was buried half to the hilt in the plaster, a disapproving puff of dust and the ghost of a loud thud settling around it.

“Holy shit,” Percy sounded awed and when Vax turned to look at him, he couldn’t help but notice a now familiar blush in his cheeks.

He’d already texted his sister, giving her a heads up that he was sleeping out at a friend’s. It was only half a lie, Percy could probably be considered a friend at this point.

They just wouldn’t be doing a lot of sleeping.

#sugar daddy au #perc'ildan #percy de rolo #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #vex and vax #cr fic #critical role #vox machina #modern au #urban fantasy au #smut

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krinsbez · 5 years ago

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GI Joe: Remixed, Grootslang

Grootslang (named after a monstrous serpent from South African folklore) is Cobra Commander’s elite personal goon squad. While technically members of the Crimson Guard, in reality. they answer only to CC and Croc Master (whom we have made CC’s chief of security, and one day I hope to do a post about him)

It comprises (note, everything that follows was created by Night_stalker, I am just porting it to tumblr)...

Name: Alexander Popov Codename: Apep DOB: August 12, 1987 Former Affiliation: Russian Spetsnaz, 45th Guards Independent Reconnaissance Battalion Specialty: Long Range Threat Neutralization Orientation: Hetero. Bio: Originally studying to be an art student, he joined the Army after times got rather tough, financially. Discovering a talent for sniping, he was slotted into Spetsnaz soon after joining. However, Popov was discharged after an op in Ukraine went South, involving considerable amounts of property damage and civilian casualties. More worrying for the Russians was the fact that apparently, some news crews caught the incident on TV, which is what really caused the tea cups to rattle in Moscow. As the highest ranked survivor of the incident, he was given a inquest, blamed, shown the door, and told to not come back. Intel suggests that the verdict was contested, heavily so, behind closed doors. Dissatisifed with the world, and lacking any family or friends, he wandered the globe, utilizing his sharpshooting skills to pay the bar tabs he racked up along the way. While passing through Eastern Europe, he was hired on for security at a party where The Baroness was attending. Apparently, she stormed off to one of the art galleries to distract herself, and they got to chatting about art. She offered him a spot in Cobra, and his skills, combined with her endorsement earned him a spot in the best of the best. Hobbies: Sharpshooting, Art collection/appreciation, Painting (Models and oil paintings).

Name: Carol Spencer Codename: Crotalus DOB: December 2, 1987 Former Affiliation: Central Intelligence Agency Special Activities Center, Special Operations Group Specialty: Counterintelligence Orientation: Bisexual Bio: Born as a Army brat bouncing around internationally, Carol picked up quite a few things. A knack for languages, a inability to take shit from anyone, friends all over the place, and most of all, a searing hatred for her abusive father. So naturally, on her 18th birthday, her idea of celebrating was a punch to his nose and a quick trip over to the Marine recruiter's office. Couple tours of duty later, Carol was all but ready to retire from being a jarhead, or at least ready to take some leave. Alas, a spook from the State Department disagreed, and naturally, pressed the matter. Shockingly, she fit right in there, a fact which shocked both her and her superiors. After awhile though, she started having ethical qualms about what they were doing. Too much red in her ledger, she felt. She wanted out, and was willing to go to the press over the matter. Alas, hindsight says you probably should sweep your house for bugs before making appointments with a reporter. She walked into that cafe a decorated hero, a scion of a long military family. She ran out of there a wanted criminal, with her former co-workers in hot pursuit. Shockingly, when you burn someone, they tend to want revenge. In this case, it meant Cobra. She'd only heard whispers about them, but that was reason enough for her to seek them out. Trading some of her evidence for a job, she parlayed her honed talents into a rapid ascension up the ranks. Hobbies: Learning new languages, Ham radio, Photography, Geocaching, and Acting.

Name: Eline Luiten Codename: Echinda DOB: January 14, 1983 Former Affiliation: Penose Specialty: Demolitions Orientation: Lesbian. Bio: Born into a family of criminals, Eline grew up not wishing to follow in her parents footsteps. Instead, she was interested in becoming a chemical engineer, and going straight. However, after she got her degree, the Recession happened, and being a recent hire, was let go. Desperate to pay off student loans, she went right back to her family, and was welcomed in with open arms. Turning her talents to more lucractive lines of work, she soon fell back into her old ways, manufacturing drugs and on occasion more exotic materials. Soon, her talents shifted from making ectasy and heroin into making RDX and other substances. This tied in nicely with her changing politics, leading her into more radical steps. This was a rather bad idea, as the Dutch police were closing in on her, and the family wasn't going to stick their necks out for a radical. So she was forced to flee, literally barely making it out the window of her workspace before a team of BSB operatives kicked down her front door. Now on the run with little to lose and a burning hatred of the government, she drifted, until Cobra gave her a chance at revenge. Hobbies: Political commentary, Urban Exploration, Parkour, and Debating.

Name: Lily Shen Codename: Lamia DOB: Redacted Former Affiliation: Section G, Division 4, Hong Kong Police Department Specialty: Close Protection Orientation: Hetero. Bio: Born to British ExPats in Hong Kong, Lily grew up in a orderly household. So naturally, she joined the police force as soon as she got old enough. There, she developed a hobby for martial arts, which suited her fiery temperament just fine, and helped earn her a transfer into the VIP Protection unit. People were whispering that she was on the fast track to being a captain, if not higher. However, those plans were derailed. A corruption scandal occurred, and some of her political opponents used it to force her out of the department. The fact that her attitude was rather fiery at best didn't help matters anyway. Left without a job, and feeling betrayed by the organization she'd worked at for years, she remembered a old contact she'd made over in Japan, and gave him a call. Storm Shadow was rather surprised to get a contact from Shen, but agreed to put her in contact with a recruiter, seeing the value in having a former police officer on the payroll. From there, she was rapidly promoted to the Crimson Guard, where she fit right on in. Hobbies: Meditation, Martial arts, Blackjack (Chinese and conventional), and Parkour.

Name: Filip Tadych Codename: Perun DOB: June 19th, 1983 Former Affiliation: JW GROM Specialty: General Combat Orientation: Het Bio: Filip was born back in the final days of the Polish People's Republic, which caused considerable gaps in his records to emerge. The first concrete records that Cobra has access to suggests he joined the Polish Army at the age of 18, and after a couple of years, was transferred into GROM where he excelled in the high stress environment. However, he soon wound up being shown the door, when some rather unsettling political ties were uncovered, mostly through friends and some distant family members. While he himself didn't actually express any of them, he was still asked to leave the army. Furious, he became a solider of fortune, wherein he made a few contacts, the most important of which was one Apep, who he wound up in a bar brawl with in Tunisa. Once the local police arrived though, they promptly joined up and proceeded to smack down the cops and flee. The resulting 9 hour drive to the border did actually make them fairly solid friends. Hobbies: Tennis, Baking, dart throwing, and rock stacking.

Name: Karena LesProux Codename: Orleans DOB: February 18th, 1979 Former Affiliation: 11th Parachute Brigade, French Army Specialty: Tactics Orientation: Formerly Het (Married, 2 children), currently Bi, dating Nina of Crimson Guard Bio: Karena had it all, a loving husband, a solid army career, and two wonderful children. However, that was all a sham, as her husband was an artist as he called himself, while Karena called him a drunken slob, as well as other, more insulting terms. This was usually about the time he attacked her, so as one can imagine, their relationship was not very solid. Karena endured it for two solid reasons. The first being that, as her drunken asshat of a husband was the son of a prominent politician, she would be subjected to quite a bit of harassment from him and his ilk. The second reason was her children, who she loved very much. So she endured the fists and occasional rolling pin thrown her way, bottling up her rage deep inside. One night, that all changed. Instead of going after her, he made a move towards the kids room, while still holding a rolling pin. According to her, she saw red, and next thing she knew, her husband was lying on the ground, dead, with a steak knife sticking out of his throat. While her first instinct was to call the police, something stopped her. Namely, that she was likely going to be convicted of murder, and sent away to prison, as well as separated from her beloved children. So instead, she made a call to a former coworker she had run into while serving in the French Army. Meanwhile, in a Terror-Dome near the Med, Turul's ringtone went off, as luck would have it, in the middle of a rather boring meeting. One rapid conversation later, he was booking a flight out to his homeland, and she was packing up the kids to go visit "Uncle Francois" in Nice for a few days. Surprisingly, she fit right in with Cobra, while her kids were off in a nice high quality daycare, she was in a environment she loved dearly. In fact, if anything, she loved it more, knowing she wasn't going to have to hold herself back in the field any more. Hobbies: Wine tasting, Clay Sculpting, The Werewolves of Millers Hollow, and Knitting.

(These were the first sets of OCs Night_stalker created for us, though the last two were edited in later, which is why they don’t quite fit and mention other OCs)

#GI Joe #GI Joe: Remixed #GI Joe Fanfic

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rwbyremnants · 5 years ago

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TRIGGER WARNING: Racism and abuse.

NOTE: Merry Christma... well, Boxing Day! Sorry this chapter isn't exactly the most festive it could have been. Hopefully you enjoy it anyway!

=Chapter 9

That early evening, Weiss felt content in her knowledge that she and Yang were on good terms, and that they had already logged some study time to help Yang improve her grades. Things were going well. Now, she only had to solve one other new problem that had presented itself.

“Search me,” Pyrrha sighed as she gently stirred her milkshake with the straw, gazing into the far corner of the malt shop. Weiss had elected to have only a cherry phosphate, not wanting to spoil her dinner since she was eating at home tonight. “I’m an only child.”

“I might as well be,” Weiss admitted. “Whitley is a pill, and a boy anyway, and Winter’s been gone away to college for a couple of years now. Father won’t even tell me if she calls or writes since he’s so disappointed in her career choice.”

“But the WAC is a noble field! I’ve actually been thinking of enlisting myself, if I don’t train for the Olympics…”

Lowering her voice, Weiss whispered, “I think he expects it to turn her into a lesbian. Since the army is ‘men’s work’ to him. Which is pretty ironic, isn’t it? Worried about the wrong daughter.” Then in a more normal tone, she added, “Plus, he wanted her to take over the company reins. I’m not as well-suited, even though I want to - and Whitley is completely useless, the selfish little toad. But it’s too late; she’s even more stubborn than me, and won’t change her mind for anything.”

Pyrrha nodded to herself as Danny And The Juniors came on the jukebox. A few of the kids in the far corner got up and started to dance, even though it always made the elderly man behind the counter roll his eyes. Privately, Weiss thought that if he hated modern music so much, he shouldn’t provide it for the clientele.

“Well… are you sure you want to take over the business?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not set in stone. If you want to do something else with your life, I think you should. We only go around once, don’t we?”

“Thanks,” Weiss snorted as she patted Pyrrha’s hand. “You’re a peach, Pyrrha. But no… I do think I’d like to take over Schnee Communications. Really do something big with it.” She noticed her other hand was tapping the stem of her soda glass, and she smiled. “Did you want to dance?”

“Hm? Dance? Me? To what?”

“To ‘At The Hop’, you dunce,” she giggled.

“With you?” An instant later, she blanched and followed up, “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just m-meant… well, we’re in public, a-and I’m not like you are, a-and-”

“No one cares if two girls dance together, Pyrrha. As long as we don’t start necking in the middle of the malt shop, it’s fine! Besides… maybe we’ll get asked to dance by boys.”

Still flushed, Pyrrha glanced over shoulder at the crowd. “You really think so?”

“I do. And who knows? Might get your mind off a certain Jaune Arc.”

“Shhh!” she hissed, but even while Weiss was giggling she slid out of the booth and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her just far enough from their booth to dance.

Neither of them were very good at it, but at least enough to keep time with the music and avoid knocking anything - or anyone - to the floor. Weiss had to admit she was impressed with Pyrrha’s jitterbugging, and even herself for not falling on her behind even once. She did see out of the corner of her eye that a few of the boys were watching them with slight astonishment, but she made up her mind not to care; if she projected confidence, showed that she didn’t care in the slightest, they would eventually go back to their own dance partners. And she was right; a couple of other girls did the same, and even two boys, laughing at the absurdity. Maybe they would start a trend!

When “All Shook Up” came on next, she couldn’t seem to help herself; she really thought Elvis was the most. Pyrrha took a step back and let Weiss put on a show by herself, mostly just swaying and snapping her fingers. Neither of them minded much, and she got a few cheers when the song ended. Vaguely embarrassed, she curtsied and moved to sit down.

Then someone put in another dime and cued up “Lollipop”. Pyrrha kept dancing, but Weiss decided that it was time to put on a show of a different kind.

“Call my baby lollipop, tell you why,” she belted out in time with the Chordettes, earning her wolf-whistles and thunderous applause from all but the elderly soda jerk. “His kiss is sweeter than an apple pie! And when he does his shaky rockin' dance, man, I haven't got a chance!”

Everyone started singing along with the chorus, and Pyrrha laughed and clapped louder, clearly enjoying herself. Weiss was, too. For some reason, she had always thought it too unseemly to dance in public anytime other than an actual school sock hop. Singing was another matter, but her father expected her to keep her performances to operetta and hymns. As much as she liked popular music, it was discouraged and seen as “pedestrian”, so she had never owned any records of her own.

Finally worn out, the two of them finished off their drinks and then made their way home. If they settled in quickly, they could study for an hour or so before suppertime.

However, as it turned out, life had other plans.

“Weiss!” her father called out as they passed through the living room. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“Yes, Father?”

He glanced pointedly at Pyrrha. “Alone?”

“Sorry,” she whispered to her friend. “I’ll be up in a minute?” Pyrrha nodded, waving at Mr. Schnee as she headed upstairs. He did not deign to acknowledge her.

“Good. Sit.” He motioned to the couch before reclaiming his armchair. Weiss obeyed, sitting primly on the edge of the cushion. “I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on certain information that has come into my possession.”

“Sorry, what information is that?”

“Apparently, you have been consorting with known delinquents.”

As she stared at her father, the bottom dropped out of Weiss's stomach. Someone had seen her with Yang. Who?! They hadn't been very discreet so it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that they had been caught - and yet it did. She was completely gobsmacked. Still, there was no reason to cop to everything right away; maybe he didn't know very much, and she certainly didn't want to accidentally volunteer information that wasn't necessary to volunteer.

“What?”

“Don't play coy with me,” he went on with a slight sneer that lifted the corner of his mustache. “Whitley saw you sneaking out of the house in the dead of night. What could you have been thinking?”

It was worse than she thought. Of course her father would believe Whitley, that little toad. “W-well, I only went to retrieve a school book I loaned out.”

“To that Chinese girl, hmm?”

“Yes. I'm helping her with math and-”

“You expect me to believe that the only reason you climbed down the side of our home was to retrieve a book? Just what sort of fool do you take me for?”

“The best sort! Wait- I mean, no fool at all, Sir!”

Shaking his head, he crossed his legs and leaned heavily against one elbow. “All the money spent on tutoring, already wasted when you insisted on going to a public school instead of a private academy. Your mother made the inane decision that if it was what you wanted, it was worth the sacrifice. And now look where we are! You’re running around Vale with some kind of… opium fiends on motorbikes!”

“Opium…” Weiss rolled her eyes when she made the connection. “Just because she’s half-Chinese doesn’t mean she’s ever even seen opium, Father. And as far as I know, she hasn’t!”

“Oh, really? You have enough experience with the fruit of the poppy that you can tell the difference?”

It was very difficult for her not to get upset with him. “I’ve literally never spent a moment thinking about her being Chinese. She’s being raised by her mother, who’s from America.”

“Hmph. The fact remains, she is not the sort of friend you ought to be keeping company with. I forbid you to see her anymore.”

“You what?” Blinking up at him, she waited for him to elaborate, or to rescind his edict. He did not. So she burst out, “You can’t do that!”

“I just have.”

“But she’s-” It took quite a lot of effort to suppress some kind of ill-conceived confession of love. “Father, she needs my help in school, a-and we’re good friends! And you won’t tell me I’m not to see her!”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Watch your tongue, young lady. This is my house, and what I say goes.”

“NO!”

“Excuse me?”

“Not this time!” she snapped, leaping to her feet. She knew this wasn’t a spectacular idea, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself; it was as if the anger pulsing behind her temples was taking over her body, separating her from being able to command it any longer. “All I ever do is what you tell me to! I’m a good student, I practice my singing every day, a-and I’ve even been keeping up with tennis! With Yang! So why… I mean, how can you forbid me to see someone you don’t even know? That isn’t fair!”

She could have predicted he would say “Life isn’t fair” before he even formed the words, and was only further angered to hear him say them after all.

“So what?! That doesn’t mean you have to be unfair along with it!”

Jacques Schnee shot to his feet and snatched up her bicep, jerking her forcibly toward him with an iron grip. His cold eyes stabbed down into her own and her heart stopped beating to see his barely-concealed rage.

“You will stop speaking to me in this manner, and you still stop associating with the Chinese girl. My decision is final. If you continue to disobey me, there will be further consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“No.”

“Try that again,” he growled, shaking her arm.

She didn’t know why she said it. Her father had already proven he had no interest in what she had to say at all. Perhaps it was the fact that Yang had become a lot more important to her than she ever thought possible, and that connection was too precious to be severed for no reason other than Yang’s race and the fact that she wore a leather jacket. Something within her was glowing white-hot and could not be cooled down until it burned something else.

“Or what? You’re going to hit me? Again? Like you hit mother when you think we’re not looking? Like she hits Whitley when he smarts off? Is that just what this family does? It’s pathetic! You are pathetic!”

His eyes flicked to her scar, and Weiss felt the dark thrill of a very unsatisfying triumph. A rough shove sent her falling against the couch, grasping at the arm to keep from winding up in the floor.

“I knew it was a mistake to entrust my company’s future to a woman. You never see the bigger picture. Whitley may be a low-grade moron, but at least he understands loyalty. All you care about is your sock hops and giggling with the girls - now including some foreign wok-woman. Squandering your potential. There’s too much of your mother in you.”

“I don’t care,” she lied as the tears began. How desperately she wished they wouldn’t.

“You will. When I’m disciplining you until you straighten up and act in a way befitting the Schnee name, you’ll care.” Smoothing the front of his suit, which had barely been disturbed at all by shoving his daughter, he grunted, “Get up and stop that blubbering.”

Weiss obeyed. Back straight, she stared him down, even as her cheeks glistened.

“Better. Now, you will sever all contact with the ruffian girl, and you will focus on your studies. Is that clear?”

“It’s clear.”

“Do you promise to obey me?”

Teeth clenched, she hissed, “Never.” His hand came down hard across her face. “AH!”

“Do you promise to obey me?!”

Furious in a way she didn’t know she could be, Weiss turned and screamed, “NEVER! I’ll never obey! You can slap me, you can kick me, y-you can chop me into pieces and feed me to the birds! I don’t care! I’m never going to let you tell me who I can and can’t be friends with, EVER!”

For a long moment, he regarded her and the angry red throbbing on her cheek. His face was completely impassive, even though he was breathing hard. Then he turned to stare into the unlit fireplace.

“That’s ‘with whom I can and can’t be friends’. Clearly, she’s already having a detrimental effect on your grammar.” The sigh was weary, as if this were nothing more than a tedious board meeting. “Very well. I’ll take care of the matter myself. And don’t think there won’t be further consequences.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“You’ll see.” Turning back, he glared down at her. “You are dismissed. Go and study. Do something useful for a change.”

After a few seconds of huffing and puffing, Weiss managed to growl out “I hate you!” before she fled from the room and stomped upstairs.

She had fully intended on going to her room. Pyrrha was probably worried about the screaming, if she hadn’t somehow missed all the noise. Halfway there, she changed direction and burst into the drawing room, fists vibrating at her sides.

“MOTHER!”

Willow Schnee was draped over the piano bench, an empty bottle of red wine dangling in her loose grip. This was sadly a standard state of being for the woman; it had been for many years. Weiss had some hazy memories of a glamourous woman who didn’t fall to pieces so often, who could resist the pull of strong spirits. Hazy, distant, and with no impact on the present day.

“Wha…?”

Sinking to her knees beside her, Weiss sniffled and whispered, “He hit me again! H-he promised he wouldn’t, and he did, a-and I… Mommy, I need you to come back! Come back to us!”

The skin between the woman’s perfect eyebrows crinkled as she tried to think her way through the fog of alcohol. “Hm?”

“He slapped me! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Oh… no, no he didn’t. He said no more… only me.” She groaned and pushed a hand into her face. “Winter, stop the train, Mommy needs to lie down…”

Of course it was useless. Sighing, she took the bottle and set it aside, then managed to heave her mother to her feet and guide her to the chaise lounge under the window. The setting sun was just starting to pinken the sky, and she thought the view might help.

“Please don’t go,” Mrs. Schnee murmured. “I… want to… you were always so sweet, Weiss…”

“At least you got my name right that time,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Leaning down, she pressed her lips into her mother’s pale forehead. She and Winter looked the most alike, and she definitely had their mother’s gentle eyes. But Weiss had her nominal stature and her angelic singing voice, which were nothing to sneeze at. “Mother?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“Mmm…” Her hand came up to rest on the side of Weiss’s neck. “Love you, too, sweetheart. You’re my little…”

Before she could even finish her sentence, her arm flopped to one side and she began to doze. “Snow Angel,” she finished for her. That was most likely what she had been about to say. Weiss decided to leave her there and simply sneak back out of the room. Compared to that mess, her life was entirely tolerable.

When she regained the safety of her own room, she found Pyrrha twisting the hem of her long poodle skirt in her hands. She looked panicked. Seeing her friend in the doorway, she stood, eyes full of fear as she whispered, “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Edging the door closed, she approached her desk in the corner and rested a hand on her books. “Let’s just… do our homework.”

“Your face…”

“What about it? Am I really that hideous?”

Pyrrha put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and held her fast. “Don’t do that. He… he shouldn’t be allowed to…”

Suddenly, Weiss needed to be alone. She wouldn’t tell Pyrrha to leave, but that didn’t prevent the desire from rising up powerfully within her. The desire to disappear. The desire to be anyone but a Schnee. “Nothing happened. Do you understand?”

“I don’t,” she whispered in a tight voice. “I can’t pretend this away, Weiss.”

“Then try. Try really, really hard.”

Then arms were around her, holding her as close as was possible. Even though she hated herself for it, would have given the entirety of her trust fund away to stem the flow, the tears started pouring forth in earnest. And they didn’t stop for some time.

#princess and the dragons #1950s au #rwby fanfiction #freezerburn fanfic #rwbyremnants #abuse tw #child abuse tw

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gotatext · 5 years ago

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by this point im p sure u all know the drill.... i’m nora, 23, she/her, gmt and tonight matthew im going to be greta o’driscoll, a terrible person but a hot one which frankly makes it almost ok. here is her pinterest..... this intro is literally just copied n pasted frm the last time i played her so soz if u’ve read it like 10+ times....

「 diana silvers. cis-female. 」have you seen greta o’driscoll around yet? i hear she decided to be in POTENTAS for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL PSYCHOLOGY major. the 20 year old SHEPHERD is known to be tenacious, magnetic, capricious and evasive. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, gmt.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

was always a really sporty bitch. it started with a junior athletics squad, which turned into athletics and cheer, which then became athletics, cheer and hockey until she basically was doing a different activity every night. she came to see her body as a tool that she could make work for her if she trained it up and this attitude’s always kind of stayed with her that as long as her body is strong she is capable of anything. runs every day.

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

left school at 18 n went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was working at a strip club. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea… pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming…..

she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch. maybe it’s maybelline, maybe its coke.

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps. i hate her

isn’t a foward-planner, however. greta prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manners so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

not afraid to go after what she wants !! ambitious academically and romantically thirsty !! she loves the adrenaline of the chase. when someone’s easy to get, she becomes bored. very bisexual and very proud of it. feminist as fuck nd part of a queer representation in the arts group which holds fortnightly meetings to discuss lgbt representation in film, literature, art etc.

old soul in a young person’s body. all the shit that has gone on has kind of aged her. she’s quite cynical about everything now. always smoking smoking smoking. very edie sedgwick in that way. little girls skirts bought for next-to-nothing at the market because she’s skinny enough to get away with it, barely long enough to cover your bum, and then the ugliest baggy sweater you’ve ever seen thrown over it.

likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

super into pop art and andy warhol. puts female friendships above everything but at the same time, would fuck her best friends man

her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sports rivalries ! sporting friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships

girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

and I want like, fellow criminology students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night??

she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

ppl she did a few modules with ie. art history, bio-med, film studies, before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with

ppl who she runs track with.

someone she’s trying to make a zine with.

here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#this is soooOoOOO fuckin long cos every time i play greta i add more shit to it..... her seventh form will just be an entire fuckin novel.#anyway call me beep me if u wanna reach me #aka pls msg me either here or on discord. my discord is linday lohan's meth8664 #wshedintro

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local-thembo · 6 years ago

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15 questions

I was tagged by @anjelica-grey , thank you!!

Are you named after someone? Nope, my name was just picked because “it sounded pretty” and “i is a nice letter to write”.

When was the last time you cried? Just a few days ago actually, while listening to an audio message from someone dear to my heart.

Do you have kids? Nope.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Quite a lot yeah, I actually try to downplay it a bit around new people cause I’m scared I’ll just look rude...

What’s the first thing you notice about people? I’ve got to admit that I’ve accidentally put my gaydar at the forefront of most interactions with strangers, and the first thing I notice these days is the probability of their queerness...

What’s your eye color? Brown!

Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Happy endings.

Any special talents? I can and regularly do crack my elbows...? Is that a talent? A party trick of some kind?

Where were you born? Small town in the French Alps.

What are your hobbies? I love writing SO MUCH, as well as anything else that involves creativity... Video editing, all this kind of stuff.

Do you have any pets? At home in France, yeah! I’ve got a huge, fluffy Main Coon called Hippie that spends most of her time sleeping in the sun, which is massively valid, as well as being life goals.

How tall are you? 158cm, last time I checked, when I might or might not have been at my adult height. Never had the opportunity to check since. (But I do know that most women are taller than me, which is a blessing to me, a lesbian,)

What sports do you play/have you played? Oh god, I spent my entire childhood hopping from sports to sports... Main ones were the swimming club and dance, but I also did some tennis, gymnastics, climbing, ski, and probably a few others I’m forgetting.

Favorite subject at school? I loved maths, until a certain point... Otherwise, in general, French’s always been fun for me (FYI, I’m French, it’s my first language)

Dream job? Something creative. Writer, for myself or as part of something... Video editor? Some kind of job on movie sets?

#thank you so much for tagging me #i love doing these #mine #tagged

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knowthatiloveyou · 7 years ago

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Catherine Russell Interview for Diva Magazine June Edition

”WHEN IT COMES TO WHAT OUR BODIES LOOK LIKE, WHAT ARE WE DOING TO OURSELVES?”

When Catherine Russell announced her temporary departure from BBC medical soap Holby City, queer fans were in uproar. Together with Jemma Redgrave, she was half of the monumentally popular ship Berena – otherwise known as Major Bernie Wolfe (Redgrave) and Russell’s toughas- nails but impeccably stylish Serena Campbell. But while Serena was on a sabbatical, grieving the death of her daughter and making her beloved Shiraz in a French vineyard, Russell was delighting audiences in Joe Orton’s black comedy What The Butler Saw and taking a road trip around Europe. Now, Serena Campbell is back on the wards and about to be reunited with Bernie, but for how long? Catherine sat down with DIVA to talk feminism on the Holby wards, Serena’s coming out arc, and whether Bernie’s brief return to Holby means an end to Berena – or a whole new beginning.

“I’m very, very lucky in that Serena isn’t a one-trick pony… She’s not just the one canvas. So I get to do a bit of comedy sometimes. Sometimes I get to do a bit of angst with storylines like my mother having vascular dementia, and then the tragic storyline of Serena’s daughter dying. I get to do that. Then of course I get to do romance too.”

It’s the romance that totally hooked viewers to the already-popular soap. Serena and her leopard print scrubs were already established as a fan favourite, and then Jemma Redgrave brought her following from Doctor Who. The combination of two professional women in their 50s teaming up and supporting each other would have won audiences over even without the romance.

In fact, Holby now seems like a hotbed of feminism, which delights Russell. “When I first joined, there was basically me and Jac Naylor, and that was it really. Everybody else was either a nurse or an F1 (foundation doctor).

Now we’ve got a really fabulous strong team of women of a certain age, holding down positions of power and authority, and doing it really well. And also doing it without necessarily all bitching at each other. I’ve always said we mustn’t fall into the stereotype that because there are women in positions of power, they have to be competitive with each other. It’s just been done to death. I don’t believe it, I don’t buy it. That’s not what I see in my day-to-day life.”

Although she is back for good on the show – “That is if Holby want to keep me of course. Every year we have a new contract. It’s not a done deal, but if they do, I think I’d like to be there for a good few years to come yet” – Redgrave isn’t slated to return beyond the few episodes they have in the can. Which sounds a bit ominous for our favourite queer lady surgeons, right? “Basically Bernie comes back as a surprise, wanting to persuade Serena that it’s time for her to go back out and help set up the new trauma unit. Which needs two heads because it’s so huge. That’s essentially where we’re at, and Serena wasn’t expecting her at that point.”

Although the relationship has had to take place offscreen since Serena’s return, the show’s writers have made a conscious effort to keep it alive. But how sustainable is that? “I think up to that point it’s been tricky. I think they’ve tried very hard to do this long-distance, and I’ve think they’ve probably succeeded better than most people do at it, because of the age they are really… But it’s not easy, and I think some of the communication where Bernie’s been has been difficult as well. It hasn’t been straightforward; there hasn’t been great phone signal and stuff like that.

“There’s absolute delight from Serena that suddenly she’s there, but she turns up on a day that’s extremely busy with a very difficult operation that has to be done. So it’s tricky. I think people will really like it because it’s two episodes, and it’s a real rollercoaster. It’s an emotional rollercoaster but I’m pretty sure that people will be very happy with its outcome.”

Hear that, Berena fans? We can all release that breath we’ve been holding. Probably. Either way, Russell was delighted to be working with Redgrave again. “You never can tell with another actor, even if it works, whether there’s that sort of extra spark that’s undefinable.

It’s difficult. It’s a bit like mercury, you think you’ve got it one minute and you can explain it, the next minute it’s gone. There’s a certain amount of extremely friendly rivalry insomuch as the old adage, that if you want to learn how to play better tennis, well, play with somebody who’s a bit better than you. I think that quite often that’s part of the reason we work well together – because she’ll do a bit in a scene and I’ll think, ‘Bloody hell, that’s good. Ok, better up my game’. Then she’ll look at me and go, ‘Oh, I see. That’s good, I’d better up my game then…’ But there is also the air between the two of us that is difficult to explain. There is definitely something chemistry-wise that works.”

”WE’RE CONSTANTLY TOLD BUYING THINGS WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY. IT WON’T. IT’S BULLSHIT”

Although this isn’t Russell’s first time locking lips with a woman onscreen – she played Rachel in lush wartime period drama The Cazalets in the 1990s – the plot line quickly transformed her into a lesbian icon and she’s since appeared with Redgrave on the convention circuit to the delight of fans. Was she surprised by the way fans embraced the relationship?

“It would be disingenuous of me to say that I wasn’t. I was surprised at the strength of feeling, and I was surprised by the numbers. That’s just my ignorance more than anything else. I hadn’t really clocked how bad gay representation is, particularly for women. I have to put my hands up to that. So I hadn’t really understood quite how impassioned and important it was going to be. But as soon as I did, I was delighted.”

She’s determined to use her platform, both on social media and on Holby itself to talk about issues that affect women, particularly older women. “I’m slightly banging my drum at the moment, saying we should do a storyline about menopause, because that’s another thing. You turn the television on, you listen to radio drama, anything. It’s not there. 50% of the population are going to go through this and there are no stories about it. It’s very bizarre. So I do think that issues that aren’t seen and aren’t written about, and there’s a great chunk of the population that are going through certain issues, are vitally important.”

In a profession where women are constantly told they need to look young in order to work, Russell surprised viewers when she returned from her hiatus with grey hair. “I knew I had the nine months off. I knew I would need a wig for What The Butler Saw. I knew nobody would give a monkey’s what I looked like in a van. So I cut it all off, really short, just before I went into the play and I just let it grow out. I’ve been dyeing my hair since I was 28. I had no idea what was under there. I quite like it. When I came back to Holby I think that the producers were a bit…ok, really? Grey? But when I showed it to them, they liked it. At the moment, that’s where it’s staying.

“I really just don’t get the obsession with trying to look younger than you are. I get being thin, I get being fit, I get not wanting to have spots. I get all that, but the obsession with wanting to look younger, I find curious and I don’t really get it. I don’t want to have any more children, why do I want to look like I’m fertile still? It would be weird.”

She’s also passionate about a subject near to the hearts of many LGBT women – vaginas. A Twitter defence of the “full 1970’s bush” a few years ago is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to her one-woman crusade to normalise women’s pubic hair. “I think it’s there for a reason, you know? It’s healthy, it’s good for you, it should be there. The porn industry has a lot to answer for when it comes to what our bodies look like, in terms of hair and the whole designer vagina area of things. Again, really? What are we doing to ourselves? Come on, people. It’s very strange.”

Her current reading is The Wonder Down Under: A User’s Guide To The Vagina, and when she says she’s thinking about buying copies to leave on public transport, you don’t get the sense that she’s joking. “My daughter read it and she thought it was quite academic. I said, ‘Well, good’.

‘Medical’ was the word she used [and] that’s exactly what people need. For young women and young men, there are so many myths and notions of what’s normal and not normal out there. Actually, what we need are a few facts.”

Although Russell confesses she enjoys the fame that Holby brings – “If you’re going to be an actor, you can’t be cross if somebody wants to come up and say, ‘We really like watching you, please could you sign this photograph?’ It’s part and parcel, and it’s fun” – she’s refreshingly unstarry. Three months spent travelling around Europe with her husband in a van saw her embracing a minimalist lifestyle she’s reluctant to let go of.

“That was absolutely one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever done. It really, really was, and if anybody has the opportunity, take it. Those moments in your life don’t come along very often, and it was absolutely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and has stayed with me a huge amount.

Not least of which because I realised that we don’t need a hell of a lot of stuff. We think we do, and we think it’s important. We’re constantly being told to buy things, and it’ll make you happy if you own this dress or that pair of shoes. It won’t. It’s bullshit, and actually I could have done it for longer. Coming back to a house with all the stuff in it was difficult because I’d just spent three months never wearing make-up, never putting a brush through my hair really. Just having three sets of clothes to change into. It was just great. I loved it.”

So are we going to lose Russell to the road – or, after her hilarious turn in What The Butler Saw, the stage? Not likely, she says. “I had forgotten how arse-wettingly terrifying live theatre is, as I hadn’t been on stage for about five years. It’s a bit like having a baby. You hear people have a baby and they go, ‘I’m never doing that again’. Two years later they’re going, ‘Oh I’m going to have another’.

Have they forgotten? I think theatre’s a bit like that. You forget that it’s frightening and it’s hard work and all of those things. I do love to make people laugh, and so to hear an audience laughing at something you’ve said or done, or a turn of the head, was gratifying to say the least. But I didn’t get to the end of it and think, ‘Right that’s it. I must be on the stage forever, I’ve made a clanging error in agreeing to go back to Holby’. At all. In fact, I thought ‘Well that’s that itch scratched for a while. Jolly good, get me back to the hospital please.’”

So there you have it – Holby City won’t be saying goodbye to Serena Campbell any time soon. Russell is tight-lipped about how that will ultimately affect Berena, but it’s hard not to be glad that the formidable surgeon will be stalking the wards for a long time to come.

Still, if she ever decides to take her feminist politics to a bigger platform, she’s got our vote.

#catherine russell #serena campbell #berena #bernie wolfe #jemma redgrave #diva magazine

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beachcityfamily · 6 years ago

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About the Muses

The Koizumi family is just a regular human family living in the small town of Beach City, Delmarva, and being in Beach City means that they have daily dealings of some sort with Gems. NOTE: this blog is up to date with SU episodes. ((More under the cut, because it’s loooong))

Rokuro

Gender: Male Age: 47 Occupation: Businessman, specifically the owner and manager of a little Asian grocery store in Beach City Voice claim: James Earl Jones

Appearance: Short and muscular, standing in at 5'2", with a real bushy beard on his face, and stone grey eyes that are soft and caring. His black hair is starting to grey a little here and there. Often sports a suit when on the job, but he has been seen a few times in cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a flower shirt during the summer

The head of the family, he is levelheaded and patient, a good father to his three kids. He hails from Sapporo, Japan, and happily moved in to Beach City shortly after he got married. He’s the middle child of 10 siblings, and admittedly his mother’s favorite child. Like most in the family, he isn’t fond of a certain Fryman trying to ask them how they feel about the Crystal Gems, and would easily call on his son Tarou to chuck Ronaldo out of the house. “Sure, you can eat their food, I’d love to support the business, but the second that Fryman boy comes around, RUN,” is something he often says. He proudly dons the nickname of Rocky, a rather affectionate nickname given by his wife. As for the Crystal Gems? “Well… hmm… they do keep us safe, that much is known, but it can be rather dangerous sometimes. Last time something major happened, half the town was destroyed…”

Ayame

Gender: Female Age: 43 Birthday: May 24 Occupation: Accountant Voice claim: Kate Higgins (Pauline from Super Mario Odyssey)

Appearance: Tall and slim, a statuesque 6'0", she is said to be fox-faced, having a narrow face with high cheekbones and eyes close together, making her rather pretty when taking traditional Japanese beauty standards into account. Her eyes are bright and blue and she has long black hair that goes halfway down her back, and she’s usually decked out in formal wear when she’s conducting business.

Rokuro’s wife, a big city woman from Tokyo. She’s got a pretty face, but she’s also got smarts when it comes to finances. She’s more than happy being Rokuro’s business partner, sorting out the finances and giving him advice. She's extremely motherly and doting, babying her three kids despite their pleas that they’re grown up now. “Grown up? Hah! You’ll always be my babies, even when you get married and have your own kids.” She’s a cat person and very much loves to show off her family of Oriental Longhairs, her… lanky… long… alien goblins that once ate the salmon that was to be dinner for the family. How she feels about the CGs? “It can be scary when others like them arrive, but I know they’ll protect us as best they can. It can be difficult for them, there’s only 8 of them, after all.”

NOTE: As of July 6, 2019, her twins popped! A boy named Tadashi, and a girl named Sakura. OwO Sakura’s the older of the two, and she’s bigger than little bro Tadashi, and they’re both happy and healthy and enjoying being surrounded by kitties. UwU

Tarou

Gender: Male Age: 23 Birthday: November 12 Occupation: Uhh… student, I guess? Just gonna assume there’s a little college half an hour away or so. He also does odd jobs here to help out the townspeople, too. Voice claim: Travis Willingham (Knuckles from Sonic Boom)

Appearance: BOY, this big boy is ripped and beefy as all hell, but he’s still short at 5'2", and he has black hair and black eyes. Normally, Tarou is decked out in black cargo shorts, brown working boots, and a blue polo shirt in the summer and swaps out the cargo shorts for jeans in the winter… I actually do have sort of a face claim for him. For consistency, I won’t post his FC here, but I can provide if you ask~ :^)

He’s a big flirt, and he often pays for that as a result. Single and ready to mingle for a coffee date, but honestly, he prefers to settle down someday with a woman he cares about. He’s very protective of his two younger sisters, and he’s more than happy to toss out Ronaldo like a sack of potatoes, he tends to find the Fryman boy super annoying. His thoughts on the CGs? “They’ll kick your ass if you mess with them the wrong way… but that doesn’t happen too often, so I think you’ll be okay. Trust me, I tried wooing one of them, she just stared me down and closed the door. Still, they look pretty chill, I’d like to hang out with one of them someday, maybe with the purple one.”

Chihiro

Gender: Female Age: 16 Birthday: April 14 Occupation: High school student Voice claim: Tara Strong (Twilight Sparkle)

Appearance: Long, black hair that goes down to her hips, with an emo fringe covering the right half of her face, with dark blue eyes. She’s usually in a school uniform during the school year, because she’s a privileged rich girl who goes to a private school not far from Beach City. :p Anyways, she rocks denim shorts and a tank top during the summer months. She’s 5'1" and pretty petite all around.

With her little sister, Chihiro is rather outgoing and always doing something in Beach City when the weather’s good. She’s good friends with the Cool Kids and wishes she could be cool like them someday. She’s usually covered in cat hairs, and she’s pretty athletic, being the star player on the basketball and tennis teams at her school. She admires the Crystal Gems, not like the slight apprehension her parents feel. “I wanna be like Garnet someday! Or maybe Pearl! Is there a military school around? Because I’d like to join someday so I can keep other people safe when I’m older.” Little does she know is that she’ll be a big ol’ lesbian in a few years.

Jun

Gender: Female Age: 11 Birthday: June 28 Occupation: Grade school student (maybe she knows Onion, hehe~) Voice claim: Claire Corlett (Sweetie Belle)

Appearance: Already as tall as Chihiro, with plenty of years left to grow. She’s lanky and sports a school uniform in the fall and a summery pale yellow dress and flip-flops in warmer weather. She’s got bangs and her black hair goes down to her shoulders.

No longer the baby of the family, Jun’s sometimes Jun-bug by her parents due to her birth month, and her older siblings call her Juni. as a nickname She’s a hypertastic youngin, always curious and checking things out with Chihiro. She’s a real math whiz, but she prefers to be playing with the cats at home. She can usually be seen trying to give Sour Cream a high five, but not quite at that height yet, and she’s admittedly a bit wary of the Crystal Gems. “They’ve been here longer than we’ve been alive… It’s kinda scary, isn’t it? They’ve seen things we haven’t seen, they know things we don’t know… I dunno, it’s all a bit freaky to me...”

#about the muses #do not reblog

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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A Do you live in America?: I do. Favorite Animal?: Giraffes and dogs. Do you like Apples?: Meh. They’re okay. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had one, though. Would you ever be an Astronaut?: Nooo. Just the idea of outer space terrifies me. Do you shop at American Eagle?: No.

B Who is your Best Friend?: My mom. Do you have a Boyfriend?: No. Are you Bisexual?: No. Did/Do you play with Barbies?: Yeah, I was obsessed with Barbies. Do you have a Baby?: No.

C What is your favorite type of Chocolate?: White chocolate. What's your favorite Candle scent?: I like autumnal scents. Do you celebrate Christmas?: Yesss, I love Christmas. What's your favorite Color?: Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow. Do you like Cats?: Sure.

D What holidays do you Decorate for?: Halloween and Christmas. Are you scared of the Dentist?: Yes. I always have the worst anxiety beforehand and during. Do you like doing DIYs?: I’m not the crafty type. When was the last time you went to the Doctor?: This past Tuesday. What's your favorite alcoholic drink?: None. I don’t drink.

E What do you do for Easter?: My family and I have a nice dinner. What is one thing you do Every day?: Drink coffee. Have you ever seen the Eiffel Tower?: Not in person, but I’d love to. Would you say you're Emotional?: Yes. What's your favorite thing to Eat?: Wingstop garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings and ramen.

F How many Friends do you have?: Zero. Have you ever been Frisked by the police?: When passing through airport security. Do you enjoy French Fries?: I do. How often do you Forget things?: I have a pretty good memory, generally. Have you ever gotten into a Fight?: No.

G Are you a Girl?: I am. Do you believe in God?: Yes. Do you have a Girlfriend?: No. Are you Gay?: No. Are you Glad to be taking this survey?: I wouldn’t say I’m glad.

H Do you dress up for Halloween?: No, not anymore. I haven’t the past few years. Hello, How are you today?: It’s only 6 in the morning, but I’m alright. Do you like Horses?: Sure. Have you ever been High?: Yes. Do you like Hot weather?: Noooo. I dread summer. I don’t do well with the heat.

I Do you think this survey is Incredible?: I wouldn’t go that far, sorry. What's your favorite flavor of Ice cream?: Strawberry. What is one of your Interests?: Surveys. Did you do the Ice Bucket Challenge?: I did, actually. Have you ever been Ice skating?: No.

J Tell me a Joke.: Nah. What is your favorite Junk Food?: Sourdough bread and dip. Is there any Jewelry you wear every day?: Nope. What's your favorite type of Juice?: None. I don’t like juice. Do you believe in Jesus?: Yes.

K Who was the last person you Kissed?: Joseph. Describe your first Kiss.: It was awkward, but I was all giddy about having had my first kiss lol. Have you every Kicked someone in the balls?: No. Will you break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar?: Sure. What's your favorite Kids' show?: I still like watching Rugrats, Hey Arnold, and Doug.

L Are you a Lesbian?: No. Are you in Love?: Nope. Do you like Lemons?: I like lemon flavored things, but I don’t eat actual lemons. What do you eat for Lunch?: If I have lunch, it’s probably breakfast food, pizza, or leftover spaghetti and meatballs from the night before. Do you Lose things often?: No.

M Do you watch Markiplier?: I don’t even know what or who that is. Do you know someone named Michael?: No. Do you play Minecraft?: Nope. I’ve never played. Do you Miss someone?: I’ll always miss my loved ones who passed away. Do you like Mozzarella sticks?: I do. Damn, those sound really good right now I haven’t had them in awhile.

N Would you consider yourself a Nice person?: I think so. What's your Nickname?: Steph or Sis. Do you get your Nails done?: Nope. I’ve only had them done once and that was for my 8th grade promotion. Do you listen to Nickelback?: Yeah. I don’t know when it became a thing to hate on them. Have you bought anything New?: I recently bought some journaling stuff and a Bible study book.

O Do you sleep with your door Open?: No. Do you know anyone who has really bad Odor?: No. Would you ever be in an Open relationship?: No. Do you like being at the Ocean?: I love going to the beach and being near the ocean. Watching and listening to the waves crash in and out and feeling that cool air is very relaxing to me. How Old are you?: 31.

P Do you watch Pewdiepie?: No. Have you ever Puked mid blowjob?: Wow, you just threw something like this in the midst all casual. Uh, I’ve never given one. Do you like People?: I much prefer dogs. What are your favorite Pizza toppings?: Feta and ricotta cheese, spinach, crumbled meatballs, garlic, and pesto. Do you have any Piercings?: Just my earlobes.

Q Are you a Quiet person?: Yes. Have you ever Quit a job?: I’ve never had a job. How Quick are you getting ready to leave the house?: I just change my clothes, brush my teeth, throw my hair up or put on a hat or beanie, put my shoes on, put a jacket or hoodie if needed, and grab my stuff and go. It doesn’t take me long. What is your favorite Quote?: I have numerous favorites. Have you ever met a Queen?: No.

R Have you ever had Rabies?: No. Are you close to your Relatives?: I am with my immediate family. What ended your last Relationship?: He did. Do people call you a Redneck?: Uh, no. Rate this survey.: I don’t know. It’s fine.

S Do you like sports?: No. What is your favorite Sex position?: -- Do you like to go to Six Flags?: I did when I was younger. Is Summer your favorite Season?: Ew, nooo. I hate summer. Do you like to Shout?: No. I’m not a loud person.

T Do you Toast your Poptarts?: I always liked just eating them out of the package. Do you like to be Terrified?: I enjoy scary movies and psychological thrillers and getting a little scared or creeped out is what makes them good, but being terrified is on a whole other level and that’s definitely not something I want to be. Are you on Tinder?: No. I’ve never used any dating apps or websites. Do you like Tacos?: Sure. Have you ever played Tennis?: Nope.

U Are you wearing Underwear?: Yes. At a restaurant, What's your Usual?: Chicken tenders and fries. Quick! Look Under your bed. What's there?: I don’t have to look I know there’s nothing there. Have you seen the movie Up?: Yes. Would you say you're an unorganized person?: I kind of am now, but I didn’t used to be. I just don’t have the energy or motivation anymore. I’m a mess of a person.

V Do you like Velcro?: Uh, sure. What would be your perfect Valentine's day?: It’s really just been another day for me. I’ve never had a boyfriend or date for Valentine’s Day. Have you ever seen a Velociraptor?: Well, not a real, living one obviously. Have you ever Visited a Volcano?: No. What Vehicle do you drive?: I don’t drive.

W Do you like the Water?: Not especially, I just drink it cause we have to. It’s not something I really enjoy like I do my coffee. Do you like Wendy's?: Nah, they’re my least favorite fast food. Do you like Walruses?: Sure. Do you hate Waiting?: I’m very impatient. Waiting makes me anxious. Do you like Waffles?: Yes.

X Have you ever played with a Xylophone?: Yeah, in elementary music class. Have you ever had an Xray?: Numerous times throughout my life. Did you ever wish you had Xray vision?: No. Do you still love your EX?: No. Do you hate the letter X?: No.

Y Is your favorite color Yellow?: It’s one of them. What has been your favorite Year?: Childhood years. Do you hate being Yelled at?: There’s nothing enjoyable about that. What did you do Yesterday?: Same stuff as always. What was your favorite thing to do when you were Younger?: Play Barbies, playing with my cousins, watch cartoons.

Z Have you ever went to the Zoo?: Yeah. Do you hate getting Zits?: Yes. Thankfully, I rarely get them now. Do you like Zebras?: Sure. Do you like eating Zebra cakes?: Yeah, those are good. Do you use Zedge?: I don’t know what that is.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #abc survey

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5hfanfiction · 7 years ago

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When She Sees Me (Chapter 1)

Summary: Camila’s a rich girl with some demons she can’t escape from. Lauren’s in a famous girl group and can’t tell the difference between who she wants to be and who others think she is.

It’s obvious they’re meant to be, but for some reason the universe is trying to do everything possible to tear them apart.

When Camila is in her senior year, she is already on top of the world.

“Baby. Wake up.”

She squints one eye open and rolls over to see Dua giving her that cheeky, beaming smile that she fell in love with three years ago and she breaks into her own grin. “What time is it?” Camila mumbles, propping herself up slightly and reaching for the phone laying on her nightstand.

“Six o’ five. We better hurry or we’re going to be late.”

Camila turns her phone on and immediately winces at the brightness. “Can you read the notifs for me?” she groans, flashing the phone screen at Dua.

Dua takes the phone in her hand. “Ally texted you telling you to wake up. Also, I think she sent you like, five, memes.”

Her phone chimes again.

“‘Did Dua stay over last night? I hear you two talking…’” Dua reads. “Yes, I’m here, Ally!” she shouts.

“Please tell me you guys kept it PG last night!” Ally’s voice is slightly muffled. She’s only in the next room over.

“Can you guys all be quiet? Some of us have an extra hour to sleep.” And then there’s Shawn, Camila’s older brother.

The door flies open and all of a sudden the oldest Cabello sibling, Harry, barges in. “Get out,” Camila whines, and Dua just laughs.

“Yeah, everybody seems fully clothed.” Oh, shit, he’s on the phone.

“Who are you talking to?” Camila sits up in bed and scowls at her brother.

“Ally.”

Camila rolls her eyes. “You guys are all idiots!” she yells. Three separate laughs come back in response. “Jesus Christ,” she hisses, and then she grabs Dua’s hand and tugs her out of bed. “Come on, hun, it’s time to face whatever dumbasses the universe throws at us today.”

She slips her glasses on her face as she and Dua walk out the door.

See, they all kind of have a routine by now.

Dua doesn’t stay over that often- only when Camila’s parents are off on particularly long business trips or it’s a special occasion (i.e. their anniversary)- but whenever she does, she always finds herself feeling a bit out of place. She’s only told Camila this once, but Camila has kept it in mind ever since, because she knows the whole Cabello clan can be a little overwhelming.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

“Are we going to stop to get Starbucks before school?” Ally asks as she maneuvers around Camila to reach for an apple. “Because if not I’m going to make a smoothie.”

Camila eyes the clock. “If we get Starbucks we’re going to be late. Go with a smoothie. And make me and Dua one, please.”

“Gotcha. Harry?” Harry tosses Ally the bag of frozen fruit. “Thanks.”

As Ally dumps the fruit in the blender, Camila pulls her phone out of the pocket of her robe and reaches for the Beats speaker on the kitchen island. A few moments later, a song with a nineties R&B vibe to it is pumping throughout the room. Camila sings along, as usual.

“He know I keep it ready on the regular, so I don’t have to get ready, ain’t no settin’ up…” She collects up her homework on the kitchen counter and makes a move for her backpack. “When I give it I make sure I give more than enough, yeah; he know, he know this-”

“I hate this song,” Ally says.

“Shut your mouth.” Camila glares at her. “Don’t disrespect the Unholy Trinity like that.”

Ah, the Unholy Trinity. They’ve been Camila’s longtime obsessions- she collects favorite artists the way some people collect coins, or… stamps. Do people still do that?

Either way, she love-love-loves the Unholy Trinity. Seriously, they’re right up her alley. Three smokin’ hot girls with amazing personalities and bomb-ass music? Sign her up. She’s loved them ever since they won the X-Factor two years ago. She’s loved them ever since the media deemed them the next Destiny’s Child. She may or may not write fanfiction about them in her spare time.

Okay, maybe that one’s going a little overboard. But can you blame her? Just look at them.

“Oh, right, I forgot that Lauren Jauregui is the love of Camila’s life- sorry, Dua.”

“That’s not true!” Camila frowns in protest. “I just think Lauren Jauregui’s really hot. But nobody compares to Dua.” She walks over to Dua, cups her chin in her hand, and kisses her cheek quickly. “I’m yours,” she whispers.

“Okay, gross. Back off with the PDA.” Ally pretends to throw up. Camila kisses Dua again and snipes, “You’re just jealous because you’re the only Cabello that’s single.”

“Stop!” Ally cries, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s not my fault that I suck at relationships.” Harry passes her three to-go cups, which she fills with smoothies before fitting lids on each one. “Here you go. Dua, Mila, you guys have thirty minutes to get dressed and out the door. If you don’t I’m leaving without you.” She gives Harry a quick hug. “Have fun at work, you old, old man.”

“Have fun at high school, you little, little toddlers,” Harry shoots back before rushing out the front door. Camila and Dua both grab their smoothies before heading upstairs to Camila’s bathroom. “Thanks, Als!” Camila calls over her shoulder.

Ally waves her off. “No problem. Just don’t be late.”

“We won’t!”

Much like the Cabello siblings have their own kitchen routine, Dua and Camila have their own routine in Camila’s bathroom. Nothing sexual- most of the time. But it actually works out pretty well because Camila usually wears quite a bit of makeup and Dua wears next to none, but Camila leaves her hair natural and Dua likes to straighten hers, so they switch off fairly smoothly and Camila has a very big bathroom and it all fits together neatly.

Today they’re moving a little slower than most days, so by the time they’re dressed and walking downstairs Ally is already threatening to leave.

“Hurry up!” she demands, smoothie cup in one hand and two tennis bags in the other- one is her own, and the other is Camila’s. Dua and Camila put their empty cups by the sink and pick up the pace a little. Right as they’re about to walk out the door, Shawn trudges downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Bye, guys,” he grumbles, clearly still tired. “Bye, Shawn!” the three shout in unison as they slam the door shut.

Ally practically runs down their long driveway, tennis bags bouncing against her hip. Dua follows closely behind, and Camila’s picking her way down in her Louboutins and that fishnets-under-ripped-boyfriend-jeans thing that she’s become quite taken with. Ally hates it 'cause she thinks the fishnets are stupid, and Dua doesn’t quite understand the trend (she’s more of a simple t-shirt and sweatpants kind of girl) but she thinks Camila looks hot as hell in them regardless.

“Oh my goodness, hurry up!” Ally calls, but she’s laughing watching Camila struggle down their driveway. “I call shotgun!” Camila screams. God, she’s usually so fucking good at walking in ridiculous heels but their driveway is her worst nightmare because of how steep it is.

Dua, being the amazing girlfriend she is, even though she’s stifling chuckles at Camila trying to get to the car, holds the door open to the passenger side for Camila until she gets down, and shut it behind her like a true gentleman. “Chivalry isn’t dead,” Camila whispers loudly to Ally as Dua slides into the back seat next to their backpacks and Camila and Ally’s tennis bags.

Ally leans in really close and says in Camila’s ear, so Dua can’t hear her, “A real chivalrous girlfriend wouldn’t have just stood there and laughed at you, but that’s just me.”

Camila sucks in a sharp breath and gives Ally a meaningful look. What else was Dua supposed to do. Carry her? That’s just ridiculous.

But this has been a pattern over the last month or so- Ally and Shawn, mostly, and sometimes Harry, and a couple times Camila’s parents have even said a few things about it. Just little comments about Dua and Camila’s relationship: about whether they’re really serious, about if they really want to stay together when they both go off to college. Stuff like that. Camila has no idea where this is coming from, considering she and Dua have been together for three years (since the end of freshman year) and have never once stopped to take a break. And in Camila’s opinion? They really are serious.

The one thing is sex. They haven’t had sex. Dua has made a couple of advances (trust her, it was just really heavy petting) but Camila just doesn’t want to. Yes, she’s eighteen, and yes (as some people, including Dua, have mentioned) she sometimes (all the time) dresses like she’s twenty-five and at a club, but it’s not a crime that she doesn’t want to have sex. She’s not going to be pressured into anything. She’s simply not ready.

It’ll happen eventually, anyway, so… who even cares? Why is she even thinking about this? She’s going to have sex with Dua. Probably. Definitely. Just… not right now. Maybe when they, uh, get married.

Married. It’s weird, because Dua and Camila have been together for a while, but something in her just can’t imagine walking down the aisle with Dua. Or even proposing. But that’s probably just because she hasn’t really seen lesbian weddings in modern media except in Glee, and Glee doesn’t reflect on real life at all.

They haven’t even talked about it. They haven’t even talked about what’s going to happen after they graduate and Camila inevitably goes to Harvard and Dua inevitably goes to some arty-farty school in Washington and they have to do a long-distance relationship or- or break up.

They haven’t talked about any of it.

Camila wonders if they’ll ever talk about it.

She turns her attention back to Ally, who is explaining to Dua where exactly the Cabello parents are this time.

“Sinu’s somewhere in Europe right now. She just came out with her new fall line- oh my goodness, have you seen it?” Ally’s eyes are shining, something that happens every time she talks about her mother’s career. “It’s gorgeous. I love it so, so much. It’s all over Instagram and Tumblr- did you know she let me look over her rough sketches and give my input on it?” She’s practically glowing.

Anyone who knows Camila knows she loves her clothes- designer brands and new internet trends and sky-high heels- but Ally is the true style aficionado in their family.

She takes after their mother, of course.

Sinuhe Cabello, the founder, namesake, head designer, and CEO of the iconic Cabello fashion brand, had risen to fame when she was just twenty years old. Newly pregnant. Newly married. She barely had anything except her talent, her compassion, and her brain. No money. No connections.

And now she’s here. Four kids and billions of dollars later and Camila thinks her mother is the most influential, amazing, inspiring person she’s ever met. And all of the Cabello kids see their mother the same way.

Even though she was always busy, she was always, always there for them. They never felt neglected or unloved. Sinu had always made an effort to be a huge part of their lives, even if it was over Skype calls or good morning and good night texts. She was just so there, even when she wasn’t there in person.

“And Ale’s giving a seminar in Arizona, I think. But he’s coming back tonight to take us out for dinner, which is really nice.” Ally turns to look at Camila. “Where did he say we were going tonight?”

And then there was their father, Dr. Alejandro Cabello, the brilliant psychologist-turned-writer who also spends his fair share of time in the spotlight due to his three bestselling novels. He is a former Harvard professor, he comes from one of the most influential, well-connected families in America, he’s one of the most intelligent people in the world, and he’s also easily the biggest, mushiest dork that Camila has ever come in contact with.

He’s also gone a lot, but not as much as he used to be, and definitely not as much as Sinu is. Alejandro puts in the same amount of effort into seeing his kids as much as possible, and it reflects a lot of his relationship with all four. Harry, being the first Cabello child and therefore experiencing the first overwhelming stages of Sinu’s fame, didn’t see his parents while growing up as much as Camila, the baby of the family, did, but you’d never be able to tell. Camila and Harry are equally close to their parents, which is almost impossible to reach considering the circumstances but they made it work somehow.

As long as Camila could remember, her parents had always been famous. She was born into fame. All of the Cabello kids were. And maybe some of that contributed to parenting that many people in the past have called “eccentric” at best and “life-ruining” at worst. For example, how Sinu and Ale insist the kids call them by their first names, instead of “mom” or “dad”. Or how Sinu and Ale have taken some pretty drastic measures in order to keep their kids out of the fickle world of fame, and have done some borderline insane things (including making detrimental career choices ) to do things like show up to Harry and Shawn’s high school graduation, or one of Camila or Ally’s concerts.

But it doesn’t really matter what other people say. They love their parents in the end. And their parents love them. Camila is very, very grateful for her family. For all they’ve given her, she would be the most selfish person in the world not to be.

“I don’t know,” Camila says to Ally. “I’m pretty sure he said it was some really fancy restaurant, but we’re definitely gonna end up at McDonald’s or something.”

“Of course we are.” Ally giggles at that.

As she pulls her Lamborghini (18th birthday presents from Sinu and Ale; Ally got one in white, Camila has one in black) into the school’s parking lot, there’s the usual commotion. Another “questionable” parenting choice: sending their kids to public school. All of them but Harry attended Restrepo High School, which although was decidedly not ghetto or anything, was definitely not the flashy all-boys private school Harry went to. Basically, seeing a Lambo wasn’t exactly the norm, ever.

Ally, Camila, and Dua step out of the car, and people start to lose interest. Despite Ally and Camila’s money-filled upbringing, neither of them are very popular. Ally is too genuine and introverted to care about popularity, and Camila is just… a nerd. She does Mathletes and the Interact club and she’s an officer of a handful of others, and though it looks stellar on college applications other people just mostly think she’s a nerd.

(Also, like she said before, most of the time she dresses like she’s twenty-five and an Instagram model, which is somehow not cool to anyone in real life under the age of eighteen. It’s actually really disappointing.)

She’s also pretty involved in theatre and drama- she’s been in the musical ever since freshman year. She loves drama, and choir, and pretty much anything where she gets to be on stage.

Ally is different in the way that she’s a literal piano prodigy- like, dear god, she’s amazing- and she’s also a star tennis player and is nationally ranked. Sure, they both play tennis, but Ally is an incredible player and Camila is only doing it so she has a sport on her college applications. She’s so uncoordinated and honestly pretty fucking awful at it.

They’re both involved in a lot of “lame” activites so they only have a few close friends, which would probably be lonelier if they didn’t have each other.

Camila always says she loves all of her siblings equally, which is true, for the most part. It’s just… she and Ally are each other’s ride or die. Always have been, always will be. They literally grew up side by side, doing everything together, because they don’t have the age gap they have with Harry or Shawn. They share everything: clothes, makeup, hair stuff, perfume, homework, books, food, music, secrets, and similar opinions on a lot of important topics, whether it be social or political. They’re absolute best friends- and yeah, sometimes people think it’s dumb that Camila’s best friend is her sister, but she’s not ashamed of it. They come as a team. You rarely ever will get one without the other.

They bicker occasionally, of course, as all siblings do, but they’ve never gone more than a day without speaking because they just can’t handle it. Who else are they going to trust with… everything?

Dua is Camila’s girlfriend, and she’s one of her closest friends. Perhaps her only close friend if you don’t count her family. But there are some things that Camila can’t tell her. Some things that she wouldn’t tell anyone voluntarily. The things that she stacks in the farthest corner of her brain, folded up and covered in dust. Dua doesn’t pry because she doesn’t even know they’re there- that’s how far back they’re hidden. They’re not talked about. It’s almost like if Camila pretends hard enough, they’re not even there, and never were in the first place.

Those are the things Camila would never tell anyone, and those are the things that Ally already knows.

After school, Camila and Ally have gratuitous two-hour tennis practices, and then Camila has to go straight to voice lessons and Ally has to go to piano lessons. Like everything else in the Cabello household, this is scheduled almost to a T: Camila and Ally change quickly in the locker room, then Ally drops Camila off at her voice lesson, then Ally drives herself to her piano lesson. Camila’s voice lesson finishes about fifteen minutes earlier than Ally’s flute lesson, so Harry, who is just getting off work by then, picks up Camila and drives to the Starbucks nearby.

Camila will get some sort of latte and Harry will get something unnecessarily strong considering it’s seven o’ clock in the evening. Ally meets them there and they help each other out with their homework before heading back home an hour and a half later.

They get their crazy time-management-obsessed genes from both their parents.

Speaking of which, when they get home, Alejandro is waiting for them with open arms.

“Ale!” Camila yells, bombarding her father with a hug. Harry and Ally quickly follow suit, and Shawn (a few minutes off their near-perfect schedule) bursts through the door and shouts, “You’re home!” Then an inevitable “ugh, I’m late!”

“How was Arizona?” Harry’s eyes are huge and interested- out of the four of them, he’s the most engrossed in Ale’s work, but Camila isn’t far behind.

“Fantastic. I love Arizona. If it wasn’t so inconvenient, you bet your asses we would be living there.”

Camila sees so much of herself in Ale. Everybody always tells her that they’re pretty much the same person.

“Don’t swear,” Ally reprimands, clicking her tongue disapprovingly- something she stole directly from their mother. Alejandro scrunches up his nose. “Oh, sorry. You bet your bottoms. Woo. Arizona. E for everyone.”

Camila and Harry crack up laughing in exactly the same way: large peals of hysterical, breath-catching laughter, where they double over and clap their hands a lot. Ally looks rightly miffed. Shawn looks surprised for a second, and then shakes his head and chuckles.

“So, what do you guys think about going to Cheesecake Factory for dinner?” Alejandro proposes. “They have some nice calamari. And really good bread. And cheesecake.”

“I’m down!” Camila grins like a Cheshire cat. Ally sighs and says, “Sure.” Harry and Shawn both agree with twin smiles. Then they return to their debate on whether the drinking age should be lowered from 21 or not- but that’s their thing, you know. Random debates. Camila doesn’t quite get the appeal.

They’re almost out the door when Alejandro’s phone starts to ring.

When he picks it up, Camila knows that it’s her mother on the phone, but from the way Alejandro’s lips are twisted, made to hide a smile, she can already tell that some dumb joke is coming.

“Offspring,” Alejandro announces dramatically, “your mom is on the phone. Please be little darlings and don’t tell her about the meth lab we built in the basement while she was gone. Or that we sold her rough drafts of her 2017-2018 winter collection or eBay to pay for it.” He smiles a fake saccharine smile.

Camila bursts out laughing. Ally squints at him and takes the phone. “I want a divorce,” sounds Sinu’s voice from the phone. Camila can tell she’s struggling to fight the exact same laugh Camila let loose seconds earlier.

“No,” Alejandro says.

“Well, screw you.”

“No, but kids get alcohol either way, right? It doesn’t matter if it’s legal.” Oh, that’s just Harry. Are they still talking about that?

“We don’t even have a basement?” Ally interrupts. “This is California? AKA earthquake land? That’s actually really dangerous?”

“Hi, Sinu!” Camila cheers.

“Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for keeping your father in line while I’m gone. I know he needs a whole lotta help.”

“What the fuck, babe?” Alejandro exclaims at the same time Ally protests, “I’m the one keeping him in line!” They look at each other and narrow their eyes with matching scowls. This isn’t over, Ally mouths. Alejandro makes a face at her.

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Sinu says. “That’s what I told him!” shouts Ally.

“I swear to god, Sinu, you are influencing our daughter too much.”

“Sinu, when are you coming home?” Shawn yells much louder than necessary. “We all miss you a lot,” Harry adds.

“Aw, I miss you guys too,” Sinu coos, voice softening. “I’m going to be home Wednesday night, but I promise I’ll call you guys once in the morning and once in the evening, okay? On schedule, like always.”

“Okay,” Camila and Ally say in unison. “Well, we gotta go, or Cheesecake Factory is going to close, so we’ll see you later?” Camila asks Sinu.

“Sounds good. I’m giving you a thumbs up but you can’t see it.” That’s classic Sinu, and Camila feels a rush of warmth for her mom- even though she’s not there in person she still seems like she’s all around.

“We love you!” the Cabello kids chorus as one, and Alejandro chuckles above them all. “I love you, honey,” he tells her.

“Love you too, Ale.” They can practically hear the fond smile in Sinu’s voice. “And I love all you guys. Don’t have too much fun without me. See you soon!”

The phone clicks off, and there’s a small silence: one for the millions of times it felt empty without their mother there, but quickly followed with the knowledge that she’d always be there for them, no matter what. And just the same, the quiet is filled with chatter about school and work and love and morals and philosophy and anything the five can think of, because they share the same blood, and they know it makes them feel better to let everything out through words.

Bottling it up never works. Camila knows it never works. She’s had so much- too much- experience with bottling up all of her emotions. It never leads to anything good. It never has in the past. But Camila tries not to think about the past too much.

It’s better now, anyway.

There is nothing Lauren loves more than her job.

She comes to this conclusion when she’s backstage, waiting to perform, and Dinah won't stop flicking the side of Normani’s head while Normani struggles to lace up her knee-length heeled boots.

“Dinah, you annoying little shit, stop it.” Normani shoots her a deadly glare and pokes Dinah’s forehead with a single long acrylic nail. Dinah yelps, rubs her forehead, and flips Normani off.

“If you don’t treat your mama right, bye-bye, bye-bye.” Lauren mutters the lyrics of their song “Lonely Night” under her breath. “If you got another chick on the side, bye-bye, bye-bye.” Normani’s smooth, silky voice harmonizes perfectly with her own.

“You look everywhere but my eyes, bye-bye, bye-bye,” Normani chimes in. “It’s gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely night- bye-bye.”

The voice of their stage manager, Corinna, comes through their in-ears. “Girls, you’re on in fifteen. Make sure your clothes are good, okay? We don’t want another situation like New Jersey to happen here.”

The three girls grimace at the mention of New Jersey. They all like the state, but the last time they were there Dinah had a little wardrobe malfunction (her tight bra top came untied; nothing was revealed, but it was a close call) and Lauren tripped three times (three. Three!) in her high-ass heels. The heel part wasn’t the clothes’ fault, just Lauren’s for being clumsy. But Corinna’s right to warn them. This is just prep for their upcoming world tour, after all.

They’re currently opening for Demi Lovato on her Tell Me You Love Me tour, and honestly Lauren would probably be way more starstruck if Demi hadn’t been their mentor on the X Factor, where they were discovered. She was such a great teacher for them, and they actually became pretty good friends, so it was a really cool full-circle kind of thing that they’re opening for her tour now before they go on their own full world tour. And god, Lauren's so excited.

Yes, of course, any tour is amazing, and opening for Demi has been such an incredible opportunity for the three of them, but Lauren can’t wait for their own chance. Their first true world tour, displaying their first real album.

Now that the Tell Me You Love Me tour is coming to a close, Lauren thinks she has a pretty good grasp on how everything works. They have a good team, a good designer, and amazing fans- they just have such a nice support system that Lauren never appreciated before this. But now she knows the importance of all those working parts coming together. And really, she couldn’t be happier about it.

Lauren turns to her bandmates. “Do I look okay?” She flips her dark hair, curled and pinned back with bobby pins. Usually, she goes for a nude lip, but today she's wearing red 'cause some fan accounts on Twitter said she looked good with it.

And she trusts her fans.

“Yeah, you look hot," Normani says, and she gives Lauren one of her overly flirtatious winks so Lauren knows she really means it.

"Is my hickey covered?”

“Dinah, what the fuck?” Lauren is taken aback. “Who the fuck did you hook up with?”

“Watch your fucking language,” Normani tells her. Lauren looks at Dinah pointedly, waiting for an answer., but Dinah looks away, blushing slightly. “I- uh- um, never mind. I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Lauren sighs and sinks down into one of the plastic chairs in their dressing room. “God, even you’re getting more action than me.”

Normani laughs. “If you really want some 'action’, Laur, I’m right here.”

“Ugh, that’s gross." Lauren reaches for the tube of red lipstick and chucks it at Normani's face. "I’m not a fucking lesbian. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

She misses the way Normani’s lips quirk down in annoyance and the slightly hurt look on Dinah’s face.

“Okay, cool it with the homophobia,” Normani mutters.

Lauren’s eyebrows crease. “I’m not homophobic. Dude- just because I’m not gay doesn’t mean I don’t like gay people.”

“Yeah, I know, I've heard your Twitter rants, babe. I’m just saying a lot of the stuff you say whenever people bring up you possibly being gay kind of sounds like you doth protest too much.”

“I don’t-”

“You’re being a little defensive,” Dinah adds bluntly.

“I’m. Not. Gay.” Lauren gets it out through clenched teeth. “Can we just drop it?”

Normani throws her head back and exhales. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, Laur. You know we just bug you sometimes because we care about you, right?”

“Yeah.” Lauren softens at both Normani’s tone and Dinah’s irresistible puppy dog eyes. “I love you guys.”

Normani rolls her eyes. “Bring it in, bitch.”

The three of them come together in a tight hug. Lauren, being the shortest, starts giggling at getting caught under Dinah’s arm, and all of a sudden they’re all cracking up and falling all over each other.

Lauren knows they disregard things too much. They sweep topics like Lauren's over-defensive nature when it comes to… certain topics… under the rug. But in the end, they’re a team, and they don’t let “petty” things- things like that- come between them.

They would never survive in this industry if they did.

WATTPAD: seattlhe

#UPDATE #series #AU #camren #angst drama #submission #When She Sees Me

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