#i think i’m gonna watch a comfort show and make salmon for myself

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

anon support attack!!

we love you bucket!!! <3 <3

you’re doing great in life and you’re gonna continue to do great!

<3

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi<3 okay i am finally writing the new kotss chapter, and once again here is a lil contemplative snippet of tumblr-drabble length as a preview for when i write the whole thing in a day or two!😌💜 (mostly bc i am feeling sleepy and sappy this morning about mickey’s growth and just. cannot get over it.)

hope u enjoy<3

--

He fucking loved the dog, okay?

When they were first waiting in that overly-bright room in the dog rescue center (or whatever the fuck it was called) with Ian sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, and Mickey had seen the bundle of fur with its paws hitting the ground, a scrawny puppy with a swollen belly and a protruding ribcage— he’d immediately known he was in trouble.

First, because there was no fucking way that Ian was going to let them leave this place without it, since he practically made heart-eyes the second the puppy stumbled its way over to him— and second, because Mickey was absolutely, totally sure that he was going to fuck this up. Even reading the fucking description on the website on Ian’s phone screen, “comes from a troubled past and needs a loving home,” made something twist in his gut— because how the fuck was Mickey supposed to provide something like that?

Mickey didn’t take care of shit like this, like fragile puppies or babies or anything he could mess up— and he especially didn’t let in anything more than he could handle losing, anything soft and helpless and innocent that he couldn’t let slip between his fingers on his own accord. He’d learned that shit early, when whatever whispers and soft traces of touches on his cheeks were ripped away by the pry of Terry’s calloused hands— when one day, when he was fifteen, he and Mandy and everyone else didn’t have a mom anymore. Losing his mom, losing his family after years on the road, even losing fucking Terry those now months ago; all of that shit compounded and pressed on the walls of his ribcage in a way that Mickey himself didn’t really understand, and apparently was oozing out of him in a fucking dog shelter as he stood there frozen, in the face of a helpless frame on wobbly legs with silky grey fur.

For some reason, even though he and Ian had been talking about the dog in the abstract for days now, something about seeing the dog scared him shitless— because taking care of shit was objectively scary, and Mickey was shit out of practice with it. He’d never been good, comfortable, at holding something fragile in his hands, something that he could mess up in a second with a slip of judgement. Mickey was great at getting shit done, but with something like this— well, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself enough, to not make those split-second choices that Terry made, the ones that left cigarette burns on his sides and snapped his jaw out of place and left him with so many aching wounds that only became more dark and cavernous through the years.

I’m gonna fuck this up.

What if he got too mad and kicked the dog, what if he fed it the wrong shit and it withered away and became more frail than it already was, what if it ran away or got hit by a car or got fucking shot by a stray bullet in a shitty neighborhood? It felt scary to choose to care about something this fragile, to sign up for the loss and the ripping ache that would follow if Mickey overreacted or fucked something up or made a slip-second misstep. In the Milkovich family, loving was a liability— a promise that someone you cared about could get pummeled and bloodied and beaten in front of you, could get handcuffed and dragged upstate for months or years in the blink of an eye. When Mickey was fifteen, scratching “FUCK LOVE” and “STAY THE FUCK OUT” signs on pieces of cardboard with Sharpies he’d stolen from the dollar store, he’d made a promise to himself to harden himself against that weakness— against that loss.

And then, of course, freckle-faced chicken-legged Ian Gallagher showed up at his doorstep anyways.

So he’d let himself love Gallagher—and eventually he’d let himself love Franny after she plopped herself in his lap one day, wearing a princess tiara talking a mile a minute about monster trucks; and he didn’t even mind hanging out with Liam once in a while on those late nights in the Gallagher house, when Ian would be working a double shift and he and Liam flopped on opposite sides of the couch, watching shitty cartoons in a comfortable silence as the glow from the TV screen flickered on their faces.

But none of that felt like a choice—all of those people, those warm bodies to love, just fell into Mickey’s lap; so it wasn’t Mickey’s fault, really, if shit hit the fan. It wasn’t like he made the choice to love them in the first place— it just happened.

But adopting a dog (or having a fucking kid, like he knew Ian wanted)— that was a choice. That was telling something, someone, that you were ready to take care of them; that you were ready to lose everything when they inevitably got taken away, that you were ready to pour all of your fucked-up bullshit into someone and hope that you weren’t the reason why they turned out screwed up. It just seemed like too much; and in the face of the tiny fucking furball that Ian was cooing over as he sat cross-legged, Mickey’s immediate impulse was to keep his distance and tether himself into the linoleum floor miles away.

But of course Ian had done that fucking thing only he had the power to do, and melted whatever iron walls Mickey had soldered into place with a gentle Mick, d’you wanna pet her?— and of course the fucking dog had to nuzzle her goddamn tiny wet nose into Mickey’s hand, and give a too-trusting lick to his palm as she rolled over onto her back, exposing her vulnerable belly even after whatever fucking dog-fight bullshit she’d been through— and immediately Mickey couldn’t couldn’t see a timeline in which they didn’t wrap this fucking mutt up in a soft towel and take her home to the dog bed in their apartment and get her healthy on gourmet fucking dog food from a monogrammed tin bowl.

So even though it drove him fucking crazy that she was so fucking skinny, and the entire first night when she’d slept curled on the bed he kept waking up and googling the best dog foods and exercise regimens and refilling her water bowl at the kitchen sink like an obsessed fucking maniac— he really couldn’t help it.

Against every instinct, he’d chosen to love when he didn’t have to— and he was starting the realize that maybe that shit wasn’t a weakness.

**

“So, I hear you guys’ve got a new mascot.”

Tommy was ambling in the front door, right on the dot of their 2 P.M. opening time, with Kermit skittishly following a few paces behind him.

Ian rolled his eyes from behind the bar when he thought Mickey wasn’t looking (fucking traitor).

“Yeah, I think the whole neighborhood knows by now. Someone’s been a little too eager with the dog photos.”

Which— fuck that. So what if he fucking posted a few pictures of Baz to the mostly-defunct Alibi Facebook page that Kev had given them the login info to, some of which featured Baz wearing Mickey’s sunglasses when they were partway through a walk? Nobody needed to know that Mickey alone was behind that shit— Ian liked taking dog photos too, even though they were never as good as Mickey’s, and mostly just featured the moments Mickey was passed out on the couch with Baz sleeping on his chest.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Ian grinned and turned towards Mickey. “Nothin.’ Just nice to see that you’re growing into the whole dog parent thing. Though it is kind of turning into a stage mom thing.”

Mickey furrowed his brows. “Fuck you. The customers love her. It’s good for business.”

Ian held up his hands in surrender, still smirking—which just cause Mickey to shove him gently in his sternum.

“It’s not my fault Baz is the prettiest pit on the fucking Southside.”

In the corner of the bar, Baz was sitting on her cushion that they’d bought at a boujee pet store down the road, to keep downstairs at the Alibi so they could keep her other dog bed upstairs— and when Tommy and Kermit came into the room her ears immediately lifted, her tail twitching excitedly at the new faces. Tommy just gave a wary side-eyed glance to the dog pillow before plopping himself onto his usual stool, but Kermit nervously crouched beside the cushion and gave Baz’s chin a scratch.

“Ey! Paws off the princess until you drop some money on a beer, Kermit. I didn’t haul myself down to the empty bar on a Monday afternoon to watch you pet my fucking dog.”

Kermit shuffled to his usual seat beside Tommy at the end of the bar. “She’s cute. I didn’t realize pit bulls could be so scrawny.”

Baz was already filling out fast in the few days she’d been living with them; but it was true that she was still small and wiry for her age. Mickey made sure they got some sort of fresh dog food shit from the pet store that they had to keep in the refrigerator (even though Ian insisted kibble was fine, like a fucking cheapskate) to get her strength up, and he also got a bunch of fucking vitamins, like salmon oil and shit to make sure her coat was shiny—and yes, okay, maybe he also bought her a badass collar with spikes on it, and maybe he also dropped money on one of those engraved pet tags in the shape of a skull and crossbones that said “Bazooka Gallagher-Milkovich” on it with the Alibi’s address on it. He couldn’t fucking help it; they had a steady stream of cash coming in from crowded nights, they were planning on doing Ian’s karaoke shit once a month, and Mickey felt like they could afford to spend money on shit like this—like they could afford to do this right. And because of Mickey’s doting, even though Ian had started to take Baz for runs in the morning, it was no secret that she liked Mickey ever-so-slightly more than Ian; when they were laying in bed at night Baz would always hop up and curl into Mickey’s side and leave inches between her and Ian, causing a surprised chuckle to escape Mickey’s lips the first time it happened as he scratched behind her ears. Ian just stared at him, with some sappy fucking smile on his face.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just glad we took her home.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but felt a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And I’m definitely not jealous of a dog right now.”

**

It was later in the evening and the bar was pretty empty, a standard for a Monday night— Mickey had been trying to train Baz to stay on her cushion now that she’d learned how to sit and lay down on command; much to the amusement of Tommy and Kermit, who kept fucking distracting her. If Mickey had his way, he’d train Baz to bark at Kermit whenever he said something stupid (the guy just got on his fucking nerves, what could he say)—but of course Baz had other plans once she realized Kermit was the one of the pair who would pet her, and kept nuzzling her head onto Kermit’s thigh and thumping her tail on the floor.

“I thought pit bulls were supposed to be vicious.”

“Fuck you, Kermit. That’s fucking… dog racist, or some shit.”

Kermit just meekly looked down at his half-empty beer glass, as Ian came in the front door from where he was bringing in the sandwich board from the curb, not expecting any more customers for the night. He reached down to ruffle Baz’s fur along the way.

“How’s our girl doing?”

“Pretty good. Once these assholes get out of here we can called it a night.”

Tommy scoffed at that. “Milkovich, we’re some of your most loyal customers— hell, we’re your only loyal customers. I think we deserve more than insults.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna go drink the day away somewhere else?”

Tommy faltered for a moment, and raised an eyebrow. “Touche.”

“Alright, bozos. Time to pack up. No one else is coming in tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow. Me and Ian have better shit to do.”

Tommy drained the last of his beer, placing a wad of one-dollar bills on the countertop and giving an exaggerated salute. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen.”

When they left the bar and the doors were locked, Ian’s shoulders started to shake with laughter. “Jesus. I never thought I’d be at a point in my life when I’m dependent on the consistent generosity of Tommy and Kermit, but here I am.”

“More like consistent alcoholism.”

Ian smirked, then flopped to sit on a barstool opposite the countertop from Mickey, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you fine taking Baz out? I’m kinda tired, wanna get a start on dinner.”

“Yeah, man. Works for me.”

They’d been living with each other in the Gallagher house for months, sure, but they were still new at doing this— at only accounting for each other’s schedules, at divvying up tasks like walking the dog and cooking dinner and doing fucking dishes rather than just coasting on someone like Debbie getting them by. Things were different now— things were settled and quiet, in a way that still made Mickey like he had to rub his eyes extra hard to clear them in the still, dark mornings in the apartment, like he wasn’t convinced this shit was real.

After dinner they sat cross-legged on their bed, watching a movie on Ian’s old beat-up laptop with Baz sitting between them and chewing on one of her toys that squeaked loudly every few seconds (this one was a stuffed animal in the shape of a police officer, because in Mickey’s own words at the pet store, “ACAB motherfucker”)— and later that night, wrapped in the smell of laundry soap on clean sheets and dog shampoo, Mickey slept easily.

Maybe this was something he could trust himself to hold on to.

[hutchhitched]

So Wrong, So Fast

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 79: Peeta has been planning this marriage proposal for months. It goes horribly wrong. Tell me all about it and what happens next? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the fourth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Hope this helps ease your stress during hurricane season, @katnissdoesnotfollowback. This story can be read in the universe of An Everlarking Christmas as a prequel.

____________ 

 “Finn, have you seen my tie?” Peeta Mellark yelled down the hall of their apartment. “I’ve got two minutes before I need to head out.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

 He turned and burst out laughing. His roommate stood in the doorway in ragged sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. Wrapped around his neck was Peeta’s favorite tie.

 “Are you trying to ruin this night for me?”

 “I would never do such a thing,” Finnick crowed and loosened the tie. With an exaggerated wink, he tossed it to Peeta and plopped down on the bed. “So, what’s the plan? Wine and dine Everdeen and then bring her back here for a little roll in the hay? Should I change your sheets for you? Make myself scarce?”

 “I don’t know how Annie puts up with you,” Peeta muttered and tugged the knot in his tie. It wasn’t quite sitting right, and it was driving him a little nuts. It had taken a lot for Katniss to agree to a formal dinner for their anniversary. She was much more comfortable out of the spotlight or working behind the scenes. Peeta’s insistence that she be showered with affection made her squirm anxiously any time he brought it up, but he’d wanted to do something special to show his girlfriend how much he really loved her, and a fancy dinner date seemed like a tried and true method for demonstrating affection.

 “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Finn. I’ll probably stay at her place tonight. I mean, I am planning to pop the question.”

 Finnick yelped and sprang from the bed to engulf his roommate in a bear hug. Lifting Peeta off the floor, he spun them around and finally set Peeta down again when they were both completely dizzy.

 “How could you keep this from me?” Finnick barked in a mock offended tone. “You know how much I love romance, and I’m running out of fresh material. What have you got planned? Music? A special menu? The ring in the dessert? No, scratch that. In the champagne? Got her favorite flowers? Rose petals at her place and lit candles? Tell me everything.”

 “You’re worse than Delly,” Peeta snorted, referring to his childhood best friend who enjoyed being a woman more than almost any other female. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jinx it. There’s only so much a guy can handle before he breaks down in a puddle of nervous goo.”

 “Can I see the ring?” Finnick asked, still practically vibrating with excitement. “I need ideas for the one I’m gonna buy—because we both know it’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

 “You’re a mess. You know that?”

 “I am a lovable, sex god who’s given up my reign for the fair Annie Cresta.”

 “You’re an idiot.”

 “An idiot in love who supports you in your inferior attempts to romance women.”

 Offended, Peeta glared at his friend. “I am very romantic. Katniss just doesn’t really like it.”

 “Oh, really?” Finnick hooted and crossed his arms. “You still haven’t told me what your plan is.”

 “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow because I need to go.” Turning to his friend, Peeta exhaled and held out his arms. “How do I look?”

 “You look good, man. You got the ring?”

 “Shit! The ring.” He scrambled to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. Rifling through the contents, his fingers settled on a velvet box, and he grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket. “Gotta go. Wish me luck!”

 “Good luck!”

 Finnick’s well-wishes rang in his ear as he rushed out the door. Jumping into his car, he slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and…nothing.

 “No, no, no, no, no! Not tonight.”

 Turning the key again, Peeta groaned when the battery didn’t turn over and smacked his palms on the steering wheel. Frantic, he leapt from the car and ran into the house.

 “Finn! My car won’t start. Can I—?”

 “Keys are on the counter. I’ll have Annie pick me up. You’ll need to get gas.”

 “Thanks, man!”

 He was halfway to his girlfriend’s house when he glanced down and saw the gas gauge was almost on empty. Swearing, he crossed his fingers he could make it to Katniss’ place and then to the restaurant before he had to stop. Irritated that he’d hit almost every red light between his house and hers, he jammed the car into park and rushed to her door.

 “You look gorgeous,” he breathed when she opened the door, and he grinned at her shy smile. He leaned forward to kiss her. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent and nudged her lips open with his. She tasted amazing, her lips soft and coated with lip gloss. When she moaned into his mouth, he pulled away and took a shuddering breath. “You ready to go?”

 She nodded and took his hand. “I’m not used to heels,” she laughed when she wobbled a little against him. “Or dresses. Or makeup. Or not wearing a braid. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

 “Into dinner?” he teased as he helped her into the car and shut the door. He hurried around the car, jumped in, and turned to her. “Sorry. My car wouldn’t start.”

 “Into a fancy dinner,” she answered. “What’s wrong with your car?”

 He shrugged and grimaced. “Probably a battery. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. How was your day?”

 Peeta listened as he drove. He was still jumpy, but having her by his side calmed him a little bit. She wore a slinky peachy, salmon colored dress that dipped low on her chest and hinted at a tiny dip of cleavage. Her gorgeous legs stretched from the hem that rested just above her knees to strappy, gold heels that elongated her legs and made them look twice as long. Her dark hair, which she usually tucked back in a braid, hung loosely in waves around her shoulders and halfway down her back. God, he loved her.

 He pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and helped her out of the car and to the door. Still unused to the heels, she leaned against him, and he reached over to kiss her forehead just as they got to the maître d. He gave his name and frowned when the man looked over his reservation list with a bored look.

 “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t seem to see your name.”

 “That’s impossible. I made the reservation two weeks ago. Mellark, table for 2. Can you check again, please?”

 “Certainly, sir. Let me just check tomorrow, too. Just in case. Sometimes we make mistakes. Ah, yes, here it is. I’m afraid we have you down for tomorrow evening instead.”

 “But—”

 “Not to worry, sir. I’m sure it was a miscommunication,” the man assured in an infuriatingly disinterested voice, but Peeta flushed with discomfort. He had a niggling feeling that maybe it was his mistake and not the restaurant’s, but he was grateful they seemed willing to accommodate them—even if the guy looked like he’d rather do anything than speak to them. Possibly it would all still work. Perhaps the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would be soothed by good food and attentive service. Maybe he’d ask the woman of his dreams to marry him and she’d say yes. Otherwise, he might die of humiliation.

 “Uh, I—”

 Katniss watched with a bemused expression. When Peeta seemed incapable of stringing together more than two words, she suggested calmly, “Perhaps we could wait at the bar while the table’s prepared?”

 “Yes, miss. If you’ll just step this way, we’ll serve you there. Might I suggest a red?”

 Peeta followed and sagged gratefully onto a stool. The bartender asked for their orders, and Katniss surprised them both when she asked for a gin martini. Taking his cue from her, he ordered a bourbon. The smoky, caramel flavor washed over his tongue and eased his jangling nerves. Grateful for her calm, he entwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

 “Sorry for the confusion,” he said in a low voice. She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim through her eyelashes. A bead of liquid lingered on her lower lip, and he gave her a soft kiss to lick away the stray drop.

 She hummed against his mouth. “I think I can forgive you,” she murmured and kissed him again.

 By the time they got their table, his stomach rumbled, and Katniss had the look in her eye she always got indicating she’d crossed into hangry. However, the waitress, a slight young woman named Rue, took care of them graciously and attentively. She suggested flash fried spinach for an appetizer and left them to themselves.

 Dinner was spectacular. The food was delicious and they chatted and laughed as they enjoyed each other’s company. Wrapped in each other, they shared bites and tangled their spoons over the last bit of sorbet and ganache. Everything was perfect until the bill came and he reached into his back pocket. Peeta’s face drained of color. Stricken, he looked at Katniss. He couldn’t believe what he’d have to do.

 “What’s wrong?”

 Devastated, he answered, “I can’t believe I did this.”

 “Did what?”

 “Katniss, I forgot my wallet.”

 “You forgot…”

 “Yeah, my wallet,” he repeated, his cheeks flaming with humiliation.

 She laughed and leaned across the table to grab his hand. “It’s no big deal. I can get it.”

 “That’s not the point, Kat. I asked you to dinner. I made a huge deal of it, and now I can’t even pay. I’m so sorry.”

 “You know, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for this gaffe,” she teased. “I might as well just break up with you right now. I mean, how could I ever trust you again? Be honest, hon. You’re really just looking for a sugar mama, aren’t you?”

 He knew she was teasing, knew it meant nothing and was intended to make him feel better, but he was sick to his stomach. After all this time, all the planning he’d put into proposing to the love of his life, and he couldn’t even manage to remember his wallet. If nothing else, it seemed like a terrible omen. How could he handle a marriage if he forgot such basics? He tried to tell himself he’d never done this before, that it was the only time he’d ever been quite so careless, but his insecurities got the better of him.

 He was quiet as Katniss paid the check and they walked to the car. Maybe there was still time to salvage the evening. He had the ring in his pocket. The proposal would make his mistakes all better. He’d planned for weeks. Arranged for every variable. It was going to be perfect. He just had to get them to where they’d first met.

 Music played softly as they drove with the windows partially lowered. A gentle breeze whipped through the car, and her hair created a cloud around her face. She sang softly, and his heart clenched at the joy on her face. He always wanted her to sing more, since it brought her such pleasure, but it was highly personal to her. He didn’t get to hear it nearly enough.

 They were less than a mile from their destination when the car started to chug, and his stomach dropped. “No, no, no!” he growled. “Please, no.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 “God, please keep going,” he begged, but Finnick’s car shivered and shook and ground to a halt. If it’d been a person, he would have said it coughed itself to death. “Shit.”

 “Peeta?”

 “We’re out of gas.” Slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, he released a long groan and thumped his head against the headrest. Grumbling, he closed his eyes and took in a huge gulp of air. “What a fucking night.”

 “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s so bad.”

 He glanced over at her and gave her a sad smile. “You’re so amazing.”

 “I’ve heard that before,” she grinned. “My boyfriend tells me that all the time.”

 “Does he?”

 “He really does.”

 “Lucky bastard.”

 “He really is.”

 The way the moonlight fell across her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to paint her in that moment, so he could freeze time and live in it forever. More than anything, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

 “How married are you to the idea of those shoes?” he asked suddenly.

 “I despise these things, Peeta. You know that.” A smile played across her lips, and he stretched across the seat to kiss her.

 “Take them off.”

 “Why?”

 “Just do it. I have a plan.”

 Full of renewed energy, he bounced out of the car and ran around to open her door. Offering her his hand, he pulled her upright and threaded his fingers through hers. Without a word, he kissed her forehead and led her down the street.

 “Are we going to the meadow?” she asked as they rounded the corner. “Sweetheart…”

 He grinned and guided her to a tree at the edge of the open area before hauling her in for a passionate kiss. She melted against him, and he cradled her to his chest.

 “I love you so much, Katniss,” he murmured against her lips. “I can’t remember what my life was like without you.”

 “I love you, too.”

 “Do you?”

 “Yes,” she whispered.

 Grinning, he dropped to his knee and looked up at her. Her eyes widened when he sank down, and he reached into his pocket to pull the ring box free.

 “Every day since I’ve met you has been better than any best day I had before we met. I don’t want to have another one without you. Katniss Everdeen.” He paused and opened the ring box. Holding it out to her, he asked, “Will you please make me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?”

 Katniss nodded vigorously. “Of course, I will, Peeta. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

 Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t even been aware how nervous he was until she agreed to his proposal, but he suddenly felt like his limbs were limp noodles. He couldn’t comprehend the buzzing in his veins, but he was sure his blood was florescent with endorphins. That wasn’t a thing, but still. Thrilled, he reached into the box to get the ring and—

 “You have got to be kidding me!”

 The ring box was empty. The ring he’d picked out for her wasn’t there. Instead, the slit where it should have been grinned at him manically, and he wondered briefly who he’d pissed off in a past life to make this night go so spectacularly terrible. After all the planning and soul searching and angst, the perfect proposal had disintegrated into such a total pile of—

 “What’s wrong?”

 Katniss stood over him, trembling and half-grinning/half-weeping. The longer he remained on his knee, the more concerned she became. He looked down at the empty box that mocked him and huffed in annoyance. He realized as the moisture from the ground soaked into his pants at the knee that he’d grabbed the box he’d kept from a prank gone wrong with Finnick on Valentine’s Day. In his rush, he hadn’t even bothered to make sure he got the one with the ring in it.

 “I’m an idiot. That’s what’s wrong,” he groaned.

 “Are you— Do you not want to…” she asked in a tortured whisper.

 He popped to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, no, sweetheart! Of course, I want to marry you. I’m so happy you said yes. I just, uh— I forgot the ring.”

 “You forgot the ring?”

 Frustrated, he nodded and hung his head. “I really, really did.”

 Silence hung for a few seconds, but then he felt panic bubbling inside him until— Laughter poured from him in lusty bursts that shocked him and caused her to chuckle. Before he knew it, he was doubled over, heaving for breath, and laughing so hard, he almost fell over. Katniss joined him after a few seconds, his mirth contagious as he struggled to gain his composure. Soon, they clung to each other as they guffawed, unable to stop.

 “Who proposes and forgets the ring?” she howled, her eyes sparking with humor.

 “I do!”

 “Runs out of gas. Forgets his wallet.”

 “Me!”

 “Why is this so funny?” she giggled. “Bless your heart. You tried so hard.”

 He forced himself to get it together and pulled her close. Brushing her hair back, he tilted his head and kissed her. “I really did.”

 She hummed against his mouth and opened it as his tongue swept inside. The kiss grew heated quickly, and he slanted her mouth so he could devour her. When she whimpered, he tangled her hair in one hand and let the other drift lower to cup her hip and then pull her leg up and over his.

 “Katniss,” he hissed as she rocked her hips against his.

 “How mad do you think Finnick would be if you abandoned his car?”

 “Furious. Why?” he asked between heated, open-mouthed caresses.

 “I really don’t want to wait for help when we could get a ride to your place.”

 “I thought we were staying at yours tonight.”

 “We could,” she breathed against his cheek before catching his earlobe in her teeth and biting it gently. “Or we could go to yours, put that ring on my finger, and consummate our engagement.”

 He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “That sounds pretty amazing,” he breathed as he nibbled along her jawline.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Hmmm. Maybe we can salvage this night after all.”

 “You mean me agreeing to marry you wasn’t enough for our date to be a good one?” she teased as she pulled away and started walking back to the car. “Shoes. Purse. Would like to take them with me.”

 He tugged his phone from his pocket and arranged for a car. Grinning, he called after her, “It all went so wrong, so fast, but I think we’re on our way to making it even more memorable.”

 “I love you, Mellark,” she yelled over her shoulder.

 “I love you more, Everdeen! Gonna marry the hell out of you.”

 She backed away from him, and he followed. The last thing he wanted was to let her slip away from him into the darkness.

[crazy4dragons]

Everything Will Be Okay

Astrid comforts Hiccup after he finds out his injuries from a car accident are more serious than he thought. Pure fluff! Like Heaven AU. Hiccstrid are about 16 here.

Hearing her phone ring, Astrid turned her attention away from her homework and looked at the caller ID.

Hiccup 😜

“Hey, Hiccup,”  she greeted as she accepted the call.

“Are you busy?” came Hiccup’s voice through the speaker.

“I’m just doing homework. Why, what’s up?”

Hiccup sighed. “I had physical therapy today. You know, for my leg. And my therapist told me that I’m not making the progress he thought I would.”

“Listen, you shattered your bone pretty badly. And with the fracture in your ankle, too, it might take longer than expected for everything to heal all the way.”

“That’s the thing, Astrid. It’s not going to heal all the way.” Hiccup’s voice cracked. “The doctors are recommending I get a second surgery. And if that doesn’t work, I might have to use a wheelchair off and on for the rest of my life. Or maybe just a cane if I’m lucky, but I don’t want to be walking around like an old man with a walking stick. Do you know how much I’ll get teased at school? If I can ever go back to school?”

“But there’s also a chance the second surgery could work, right?”

“I guess, but even if it does, my limp will never go away permanently.” He sniffled.

Astrid frowned. “Hiccup? Are you crying?”

He didn’t reply.

“Are you still there? Hiccup?”

“Can you…can you come over? I need you,” Hiccup said, still sniffling. “And if it’s okay with your mom, do you think you could just stay the night?”

“I’ll ask, but she might say no because it’s a school night. Are your parents there?”

“Yeah, both of them are here. I’ll be honest with you, Astrid, I cried the whole way home from physical therapy, and cried more when we got home. My mom sat with me for a while, but she thought that maybe it would help take my mind off of everything if you came over.”

Astrid shut her laptop and, putting her phone on speaker and resting it on her desk, began to pack up her school supplies. “Yeah, I can come for at least a couple hours. I’ll check with my mom about sleeping over, too. Is there anything you want me to bring?”

“No. But if you’re down to cuddle, that would be great.”

“Of course I am.”

“Great. Well, I’ll let you go, then. Do you need my dad to come pick you up?”

“No, I can walk.”

“But Astrid, it’s freezing out. And dark.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll ask my dad come get you. I’ll tell him to be there in fifteen.”

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll talk to my mom about the sleepover and text you to let you know what she says.”

“Sounds good. See you in a bit, then.”

“See you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

…

Twenty minutes later, Astrid walked into Hiccup’s house, her overnight bag over her shoulder and a pillow under her arm.

“Hello, dear,” greeted Valka. “I’m so glad you could come. Hiccup could really use a friend.”

“Is he in his room?”

“Yes, love, he’s in his room. Did you have dinner yet? Stoick made pan-seared salmon and noodles. We have leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“No, I didn’t have dinner yet. Do you mind if I bring a plate to Hiccup’s room?”

Valka looked at the things in Astrid’s arms. “Why don’t you go on up and get settled in, and I’ll bring it up to you?”

“Thank you,” smiled the blonde. She ascended the stars and knocked on Hiccup’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Come in.”

Astrid twisted the doorknob and, after putting her bag and pillow down, shuffled over to where Hiccup was sitting with red eyes and a box of tissues and wrapped him in a hug. “You know, no matter what happens, you’ll still have me.”

Unable to hold back his tears, Hiccup broke out into a sob. “I just want to be normal,” he cried, burying his face into Astrid’s shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” repeated Astrid, running her fingers through his hair and hugging him closer. By the time Valka came upstairs with her dinner, he had stopped crying and settled back against the pillows, clutching Astrid’s hand for comfort.

“Here you go, Astrid,” Valka said, handing the blonde a warm plate of food. “And what about you, dear? How are you feeling?” She bent down and kissed Hiccup’s forehead. “Do you want any dessert? Or a soda?”

Hiccup shook his head. “No thanks, Mom.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind, just call me. I’ll be back to say goodnight in a little while. Just try not to worry too much, okay? I love you.”

“Love you, Mom.” Hiccup briefly hugged his mother before turning back to Astrid. “I’m just tired of the hospital. And surgery. And being stuck in bed. And I know the kids at school are gonna tease me if I show up with a cane. Or even a wheelchair.”

“They’re jerks if they tease you,” said Astrid, scooping noodles into her mouth. “But as for me, I’d much rather have you alive and needing a little help to walk than have you in your grave. Do you know how worried I was when I heard you were in an accident? And how scared I was when you were in your coma?”

“The coma was only two days,” Hiccup pointed out. “And seeing that I don’t remember it, it’s the least of my worries.”

“But from my perspective, all I could think about was, what if I lose my best friend?”

“And what kind of a friend will I be if I can’t do anything with you besides sit and talk?”  

“I like talking to you,” shrugged Astrid.  “And besides, you’ll be able to move around more soon. Even if it’s with some help. You’ll adapt.” She took a bite of fish. “You want any of this?”

He shook his head. “I already had some.”

“How about you put on Netflix or something so we can find a show to watch? As soon as I’m done eating, I’ll cuddle with you, too. I put on cozy clothes before I came here just for that reason.”

“What time are you getting up for school tomorrow?” Hiccup asked as he grabbed the remote.

“Six. I’ll try to leave without waking you, but I do have to give a warning that I have to set an alarm for myself.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I I can’t go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you still getting your assignments e-mailed to you?”

“Yeah. Right now I’m working on the project for my history elective, so at least I have something keeping me busy.”

“And you’re still making drawings to go with it?” Astrid asked between bites.

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, wanna see?” He reached over and grabbed his sketchbook from the bedside table. “Here’s Thor and his hammer. And here’s some dragons. And here’s Freja and her cats.”

“They’re awesome.”

“I still have to color them in. I also have to draw Loki and Odin. And I want to do a scene of Vikings sitting in the Great Hall listening to stories. Then I have to get all these drawings on a poster and write a few paragraphs of background research for each of them. What about you? Any big projects you have to finish?”

“I have my AP bio exam coming up soon. That’s kicking my ass right now.” Astrid finished up her food and laid her plate aside. “But it’s okay.”

“And how’s it going with your boyfriend?”

“You mean David? He’s not my official boyfriend yet,” laughed Astrid. “But he is taking me out again on Friday night.”

“Is he treating you good?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have agreed to a second date if he wasn’t.” She snuggled against Hiccup’s side. “By the way, what are we gonna watch?”

“Will you hate me if I put on Vikings? I know how much you love historical dramas.”

Astrid laughed. “Put on whatever you want. I’ll just snooze. But wake me up when this episode is over because I need a shower before bed.” She draped an arm across his middle.

Grinning, Hiccup pressed the play button before tossing the remote aside and hugging the blonde. “Your boyfriend won’t mind us cuddling, will he?” He winked.

Astrid playfully punched his bicep. “He’s not my boyfriend!” she insisted.

“That’s what you say,” teased Hiccup.

“And even if he was, he wouldn’t be any longer if he had a problem with our friendship.”

“Aww, you’d break up with your crush for me?”

“Of course. Friends come first.” She tugged the duvet over their bodies and kissed his tear-stained cheek. “I mean it. No matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” returned Hiccup, squeezing her tighter and rubbing his nose against the side of her face. “And thanks for coming here tonight. This is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re allowed to kiss me, you know,” laughed Astrid as she felt him nuzzle her cheek. “You don’t have to do whatever this is.” She reached up and flicked the tip of his nose.

Smiling, Hiccup pressed kisses into Astrid’s hair and against her cheek. “There, is that enough for you?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged playfully. “Maybe one more.”

Hiccup gave her cheek one last kiss before burying his face against her shoulder.

A warm feeling surged through Astrid’s veins as she let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes. “Alright. I’m gonna nap now. Remember, wake me up after this episode is over.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” teased Hiccup.

“Unless you want me to walk around school smelling like a yak tomorrow, you’ll wake me.” She snuggled into his chest. “And Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything will be okay.”

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Star Treatment - 1

TBHC Alex Turner AU

cowritten with @walkingidler​

description: an escort, a millionaire, a hotel that breaks the boundaries of technology, time, and space, a flashing red light, and a shit ton of cocaine.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of mental illness, light drug use, and assault. I’d rate this chapter PG-13.

THE BEGINNING

**********

“We’re just leaving now. Should only be a few minutes. Brielle is very excited to meet you.”

“Lovely. I’ll step outside and wait for her arrival.”

As Alex stepped outside, the warm Los Angeles air hit him like a swift palm to the face. He took off his blazer and waited, not quite knowing who for. He knew she was young and at least somewhat attractive, he had been quite impressed by the pictures that his friend showed him. Who knew, though. Girls in LA never looked like they did in their pictures. 

In only a few moments, a black SUV pulled up to the lavish restaurant. Alex smiled politely when a small brunette girl stepped out. Wow, he thought. She’s actually more attractive than her photos.

“I presume you’re Miss Brielle,” Alex took a step toward her as she strutted up to him, and shook her hand.

“And you must be Alexander,” the girl hummed. The word ‘Alexander’ left her lips like honey, leaving goosebumps down Alex’s spine. She looked up at him with bedroom eyes, her soft green irises twinkling under the moonlight. Alex couldn’t help but stare.

“Come on, Darling. There’s a bottle of wine waiting for us at the table,” Alex muttered, still admiring the petite girl’s beauty. She smiled up at him before putting her hands around his arm and allowing him to guide her to the table.

“So,” Alex pulled out the chair for Brielle. “How old are you, Brielle. You look quite young.”

Brielle thanked him as she sat down, and when Alex returned to his side of the table, she chuckled a bit. “I’m nineteen. I’ve been doing this for almost three years now.”

“Three years? That would have made you sixteen when you started. How did you get caught up in something like this so young?” Alex poured Brielle a glass of wine.

Brielle sighed. “You’re eager, aren’t you? Usually men don’t ask me my life story until at least the third or fourth date.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide and his face flushed. “Oh- I’m sorry. I’ve never actually done anything like this before, I guess I didn’t get the ‘escort manners’ memo.” 

Brielle laughed again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to sit down and have dinner with someone who doesn’t just want to talk about their tough day at work or their failing marriage or their kids who are probably all around my age.”

“Right. I guess you’re probably used to married men. I forgot about that.”

“Do you not have a woman in your life, Alexander?”

“I’m actually on this… er - date… by recommendation of a friend to help me get over my most recent ex girlfriend.”

Brielle frowned at Alex and stuck her bottom lip out in pity. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I’m sure it was her loss. You’re a very attractive man and from what my higher-ups said, you’re quite the businessman.”

Alex chuckled. “Businessman. That’s a funny one. But - and just let me know if I’m prying, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable - you never answered my question. I want to know how you got here.”

Brielle exhaled and took a long sip of her wine before tucking her hair behind her ears and looking directly into Alex’s eyes; it was like she could see a universe behind them as they gleaned against the dim lighting. “I’m just going to say this now, Alexander. I don’t want pity. I’m a big girl and I’ve worked hard to get where I’m at, even if you may not see it as the most noble lifestyle.”

Alex nodded. “I understand, and trust me I’m never one to judge your lifestyle. I am the one who hired you, after all.”

Brielle pursed her lips into a small smile before continuing. “When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I had been suffering from it for a long time before I was diagnosed, and it really took a toll on my relationships with my family. My parents were never the best people, they’re quite wealthy and are kind of your typical ‘Real Housewives of Los Angeles’ assholes. My mother told me from a very young age that it was more important to be pretty and polite than yourself, and my father never really paid attention to me. So when I was diagnosed, they kind of just wanted to throw me on whatever meds would make me a zombie and would keep me out of their hair, but I wasn’t having it. I deeply understood that I was who I was because of BPD, and even if I was irrational or ‘crazy’ or whatever, that was me. So I never took my meds.”

As Brielle fell into her own little world, painting out the picture of her teenage years for Alex, he watched her. He watched how her soft lips fell when she was speaking about her parents, how her eyes creased in hesitation before going on about her mental illness, how her delicate hands acted out everything she spoke about. He listened to her voice, taking note of the way she giggled through her story and put emphasis on words like crazy and troubled. Alex usually didn’t like American accents, but there was something about hers he couldn’t get enough of. She sounded intelligent, he could tell that there was a lot going on in her brain and it made him want to hear more.

“When I was fifteen, my mom found out I wasn’t taking my meds. She was livid. She screamed at me for hours, that was one of the worst days of my life. She called me a spoiled brat and a fucking psycho and said that having me was one of the worst mistakes she ever made. That day really pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I told her to take me out of the trust and to never speak to me again, and I left.”

Alex furrowed his brows. “You left when you were fifteen?”

Brielle rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I was way too young to be on my own. But I had places to go. For that first year or so I stayed with some friends downtown. It was great. I got a job at a decent restaurant, and the friends I was staying with had an in to this club so we were constantly out partying and drinking and all that jazz.”

Alex frowned even more. “You were hanging out in clubs when you were fifteen?”

“Yes, Alexander. Fifteen. I dropped acid for the first time when I was fifteen. I did coke for the first time when I was fifteen. I had sex for the first time when I was fifteen. I was a bad kid.”

“I didn’t call you a bad kid, I just wanted to clarify.”

“Sure you did, Alexander.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Brielle, would you please just continue your story?”

Brielle shot Alex a dirty look before continuing. “One day, I was in the club, and a man came up to me. He told me he liked how I danced. I was like ‘okay?’ And then he told me he’d pay for me to sit with him and keep him company. At first I was like, ‘no, what the fuck?’ because I was a kid and I didn’t realize what he was asking, but I guess one of the guys we knew who ran the club saw and pulled me aside and explained it to me. He told me that if I wanted to pursue that, he could take care of the business side of everything, and promised to keep me safe. At that point I already had no morals for myself so I was just kind of like, ‘fuck it’, you know? Fast forward three years, and I’m still saying fuck it.”

Alex repeated the words to himself. “Fuck it.” 

Brielle bit her bottom lip and raised her glass. “To saying fuck it.”

Alex grinned and put his glass to hers. “To saying fuck it.”

They both laughed after drinking their wine, and a waiter came up to them. “What can I get for you two?”

Brielle looked down at the menu and hummed softly. “I’d love the salmon, please.”

Alex handed the waiter his menu. “I’ll do the filet mignon.”

After the waiter refilled both of their water glasses and walked away, Alex looked back over to Brielle. 

“I must say, Brielle. I’m absolutely enthralled by you.” 

Brielle smirked. “As I am by you.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well,” Brielle took another sip of her wine. “You’re a lot younger than most of the other men I see. You’re unmarried, extremely wealthy, have a sexy accent, and are insanely attractive. I can’t quite figure out why you decided to hire an escort.” 

Alex bit his lip. “So you think I’ve got a sexy accent?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Well, maybe I just wanted to be seen out with an attractive young lass.”

Before Brielle could respond, the waiter returned with their meals. 

Brielle let out an excited gasp at the sight of her dinner, making Alex giggle. “That’s a mighty fine lookin’ fish you’ve got there, darling.”

Brielle picked up her fork in a hurry, and let out a little moan as she took her first bite. “Oh my god, this is insane.”

Alex’s eyes grew darker at the sound of her little noises of delight. This girl was driving him absolutely mad, just watching her lips curl around her fork and smile into the salmon was getting him hot and bothered.

Brielle looked up from her meal and scoffed at Alex. “Are you gonna eat your steak or are you just gonna sit there and drool over me?”

“Wow, Brielle. I would’ve thought a girl getting paid to have dinner with me would be a bit less blunt,” Alex chuckled.

“Jeez, sorry that I’m comfortable enough with you to not be perfect,” Brielle blew a raspberry at the man across the table, and then smiled and stuck her fork out to him. “Would you like a taste?”

Alex cleared his throat in order to keep his composure. “I’d love some.”

Brielle stuck her tongue out slightly as she moved the fork toward Alex, and as Alex took the salmon into his mouth, she averted her gaze from the fork to his eyes. He was looking directly at her, so their eye contact was immediate. Both their eyes were dark, the heat of the moment building up between them. Alex had no idea that such a small gesture could get him going so quickly, and Brielle had no idea that she could feel the things she was feeling for a client. As the two of them backed away from each other and leaned back into their seats, they held eye contact.

“That’s absolutely heavenly. I should’ve gotten that instead of the steak,” Alex raved.

“I’m sure your steak is quite good as well, it looks fantastic.”

Alex lowered his voice a bit. If she was going to be bold, so was he. “Well open up then, have a taste.”

Brielle blushed a bit, the apples of her cheeks lifting when the corners of her lips curled into a grin. She leaned forward, resuming her eye contact with Alex as she took the steak into her mouth. She let out a few moans of delight as she sat back in her seat, nodding as she chewed. Alex bit his lip in satisfaction. He’d hand feed her bites of his meal all night if it meant he’d get to hear those noises.

“Holy shit, that’s a really good cut of meat.” Brielle mumbled. Her mouth was still full, and Alex laughed at her poor table manners.

The eccentric couple sat and finished their main courses, making small talk and getting to know each other better. At one point they talked about their favorite films, having a rather riveting conversation about one particular French film, Le Cercel Rouge. Alex practically proposed to Brielle when she had mentioned the movie, it was one of his favorites and he loved a girl who knew French cinema. They also talked about Alex’s two Akitas, Vesta and Vulcan. Brielle gushed over the pictures he showed her of them, she loved dogs and begged Alex to meet them (to which Alex replied something along the lines of “that can be arranged”).

“Alexander,” Brielle purred. 

They were eating dessert now. Alex had ordered a rather decadent chocolate mousse, and Brielle went for banana parfait. 

“Please, Brielle. Call me Alex.”

Brielle simpered. “Alright, Alex. You asked me how I got here, but how did you get here?”

Alex frowned. “I already told you. A friend of mine recommended I see someone to take my mind off of my ex.”

“No, silly. Not here, here. How’d you end up in LA? Where did your wealth come from? What do you do for a living?” Brielle pointed her spoon at Alex to emphasize what she was saying. 

“Well, alright. I’ve lived in the states officially for ten years now, but before that I visited quite often. I grew up in a little town in the UK called Sheffield, but my uncle owned a hotel here in Los Angeles and I often came to visit.”

“Oh, that’s really cool! Which hotel does he own?”

“Well, actually I own it now. It’s the Tranquility Base.”

Brielle’s eyes widened. “You own that thing?” The Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino was a massive building in the heart of Beverly Hills, and just so happened to be one of the most prestigious residencies in California. It was quite elusive. People were rarely seen going in and out, however it was widely known that this was where the most rich and famous stayed. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“So, I’m assuming that’s where your fortune came from?”

“Well, partially. My uncle left me a lot of money, plus the hotel, but I also, um,” Alex paused to find his words. How could he say this without exposing himself? “I’m an entrepreneur.”

Brielle narrowed her eyes at Alex’s last statement. “So you’re a drug dealer?”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “How did you-“

“Alexan- er, Alex, I’ve been escorting for three years. I know that ‘entrepreneur’ is code for ‘I’m a drug lord’. It’s nothing to be secretive about. I’m trustworthy.” Brielle leaned back in her seat with a sort of cocky look on her face.

“Okay, yes. I’m involved in… that sort of thing. Another gift from my uncle. High standing in one of the most elite drug rings in the country. Both a blessing and a curse, but it is what it is.” Alex let out a breathy laugh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag full of a white powder. “Want some?”

Brielle’s face contorted into a Cheshire Cat smile. “You know, usually I’d decline. I may be dumb but I’m not dumb enough to take anything from a stranger. But I’m feeling lucky tonight, Alex. I trust you.”

“Off to the bathroom we go, then.” 

***********

It was only two more days until Alex arranged another dinner date with Brielle, and a few days after that he called upon her for a quick dog walk with Vesta and Vulcan. Alex didn’t stop thinking about her for days. He thought about her in the shower, while he was working, during meetings, he dreamed about her, he had even asked his driver to follow her around one evening to see what she got up to in her free time. She was driving him mad, making him sick. He wanted her - no, he craved her, and at this point he’d pay her every night if it meant he got to spend time with her. She may have been some dirty fantasy of his at first, but in only a month he felt that he had strong feelings for Brielle.

Luckily for Alex, she thought similarly. Every time her “boss”, Enzo, told her that she’d be accompanying Mister Turner, her eyes lit up. As much as she hated that she liked someone as old as Alex, she was fascinated by him. Brielle had even gone to the extent of asking Enzo for his number, so she could see him outside of work, but that hadn’t gone well.

“Bri, you know the deal. No seeing clients outside of work.”

Enzo and Brielle stood against the club’s back wall, looking out over the sea of people. 

Brielle scoffed after him and took a drag from the blunt the two of them were sharing. “Enzo, please. I’m not going to go behind your back and ask him for more money or anything. I just want to be able to see him outside of work.”

The tall man looked down at Brielle as if she had lost her mind. “Bitch, that’s the problem. You start fucking your clients for free and I’ve lost all my credibility. People will clown us, and I can’t let you cost me clients.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Enzo. You’re absolutely impossible. I’ll just ask him for it the next time I see him,” she whisper-shouted and began to walk away. Enzo chuckled before grabbing Brielle by the hair, slamming her against the wall and gripping her arm violently to keep her in place. She looked up at him with a spiteful look, “What gives, Enzo? Can you let me fucking go?”

“You’re forgetting something, Bri. I own you. You’re caught up with me, and there’s no getting out of it. You knew that the moment you started doing business with me.” Enzo bent down so his face was level with hers. He kissed her cheek before letting her go and taking the blunt from her hands. “You’ve got a date with Mister Turner tomorrow night. I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”

Brielle nodded her head in compliance, and when he shoved her away, she stormed outside and kicked off her shoes. “I can’t fucking believe him. I cannot fucking believe him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I fucking- I can’t fucking- I-,” Brielle cried. She was warm to the touch, the tears streaming down her face seemed to be sizzling against her hot cheeks. She couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidewalk and cry, she had no one to call or talk to help her calm down. 

“Need a cigarette, Love?”

A familiar voice reached from behind her.

“Hey, Alex.”

 Brielle sniffled and wiped the tears off of her cheeks before turning around to greet him. Maybe In a different situation she would asked him why are you here, but she was just thankful to have someone there for her - no questions asked.

 Alex sat next to her on the curb, and pulled a carton of Marlboros and a lighter out of his coat pocket. He pulled two cigarettes out of the pack, and handed one to her. “What’s going on, Brielle?” 

“Just work troubles,” Brielle shrugged. She thanked Alex after he lit the cigarette for her, and laid back on the concrete to take her first drag. 

Alex ran his hand over her small arm, a dark bruise was forming from where Enzo had held her against the wall. His voice got quiet. “I can see that.”

Brielle panicked and ripped her arm away from Alex’s soft touch. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone. Enzo and I just had a bit of an argument. I’m okay.”

“Brielle, I know how Enzo is. If you’re in trouble you can tell me, I’m here for you.” Alex’s voice was low and soft, he seemed genuinely concerned and it made Brielle’s eyes well up once again.

“I can’t escape, Alex. You know how people like that are. If I ever go against his word he’ll kill me,” she mumbled. When Alex put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she burst into tears. “I want out so badly.”

Alex sighed and kissed the top of her head, his beard tickling her forehead. They sat there for a moment, just waiting for Brielle to calm down a bit, before Alex stood up. 

“Come home with me, Brielle. Please. You need someone to keep you company.”

Brielle furrowed her brows and stood up to be more level with Alex. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Alex stepped closer to her, and Brielle quickly stepped away.

“I just…can’t.” She began to tear up again. As much as she did want to go with Alex, she was terrified of what Enzo would do. “Trust me, I’d love to be with you. I really would.”

Alex looked confused, but he let it go nonetheless. He was sure she had a valid reason. “At least let me drive you home. Please.”

Brielle smiled weakly and nodded her head. “Okay.”

Alex put an arm around Brielle and guided her to his towncar. He opened the door for her, and cleared his throat as the two of them slipped in.

“Brielle, this is my driver, Nick O’Malley. Nick, Brielle Roux.” 

Brielle said a quick hello to Nick, who didn’t say anything, but rather nodded at her. The drive home was quiet, it mostly consisted of Brielle sniffling away her tears and telling Nick how to get to her apartment, and Alex comfortingly rubbing Brielle’s thigh.

“Here we are,” Brielle muttered as they rolled up to her apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

She planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek before slipping out of the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Love.”

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

An egg-cellent day for an adventure

It's another fun filled day of baking sweet treats at the camp as we've got a surplus of eggs to use up. Good thing Emilia decided to drop by along with her daughter Michele Toni for a well deserved mother-daughter weekend. I was hoping for the day when Emilia would stop by for a visit and now she's here!

(Psstt... Andrea, Selene, Paget, Lena, Rini, Malka, Kate, Annie, and Luciana- camp's open all year round for visitors so if you can, come on over!)

Along with collecting eggs scattered across the camp and making baked goods, Emilia's also filming a travel-style vlog for her channel Emilia Eats. She mainly does recipe videos with an occasional vlog, something she's been doing for about ten years now. Along with making videos Emilia runs a local catering company of the same name.

I've always loved Emilia's cooking and baking - it's one of the many things I look forward to when I visit home - second to my mom's, of course. Also I love her videos as she's got a sweet personality that makes me feel enthusiastic about baking. I've saved a lot of her recipes for reference and sometimes I just like watching her videos just to see old friends like Serena, Tony, and Michele.

I'm glad to see Emilia in a much better place. We caught up a bit at the wedding, where I got to know Michele Toni a bit more as well as catch up with her dad. The past few years have been rough on them but now it looks like things are finally settling down for Emilia and Mr. Phillips.

Little Michele Toni's so cute, she's almost like a mini-me of Emilia. Hard to believe she's a toddler now and it's so cute seeing her take an interest in baking! I always love seeing her "cooking" alongside her mom in various videos.

Around the time before Michele Toni was born, Emilia was going through a rough time. Up until then, the Phillips-Conrad family were a happy bunch. The family had a bit of unwanted publicity as Mr. Phillips was, and still is, a big name in town, so the fact that he, a white man, adopted two young black girls was something the media wanted to dig up dirt on. Truth is, there was nothing to stir up - Emilia and Michele's mom and Mr. Phillips were good friends and he was always like a father figure to the girls. Both didn't have much living family so they assigned each other as godparents to their kids.

For years they were a happy family - Emilia, Tony, and Michele. Tony was the one who helped Emilia get started with her channel, teaching her how to film and edit videos as well as get more views. Michele was the one who helped Emilia come up with recipe ideas and in the videos where she's featured, the two would often talk about their mom. Emilia always spoke fondly of her as did Tony while Michele would listen intently when the two told stories of the past. Those videos are always bittersweet to watch, especially now that Tony and Michele are gone.

Things changed when Tony went off to college, traveling abroad and rarely coming home. Michele also went abroad and later got caught up in a hectic, stressful lifestyle, leaving Emilia in Rosevine balancing her life as a baker and a Galaxy Fighter. We all had a feeling that Tony and Michele were going to leave while Emilia stayed so it was expected that the three would go their separate ways. They were still a close knit family though - none of us suspected that something was wrong.

The deaths of Tony and Michele were a huge shock to the community. Both were struggling with alcoholism and drug addiction as their lives took a toll on them. Tony died from a drug overdose and Michele drove off a bridge, both were at their lowest point due to unlucky breaks. Then months later Serena died in the Crystal Shadow War so in that time span Emilia lost her siblings and best friend.

It was a difficult time for everyone. I was also going through some rough patches myself so you can imagine how bad it was. Pretty much everyone I knew from home was going through a terrible time because the universe somehow decided to be a dick and throw all these tragedies at us.

Thankfully, those days are behind us. Months later I opened the camp, Emilia and the other Galaxy Fighters had their spirit revived thanks to a band of adventurers - I guess you can say the darkest hour is just before dawn. Not everything's perfect right now, but we're all doing a lot better, and that's what matters.

Along with some new friends sort of turning Rosevine upside down, Emilia was in for another unexpected turn. Not too long after Serena's death, Emilia started seeing some guy who wasn't good for her. Then Michele Toni was born and she was probably the best thing to ever happen for her mom and grandpa in light of the tragedies that plagued them. It wasn't until last year when Michele Toni made appearances on Emilia's channel and stole the show. Seeing the two of them bake together makes me so happy - and I'm glad that Emilia finally feels comfortable embracing her role as a mom.

Michele Toni had a lot of fun bringing us eggs she found while exploring the camp, her favorite place being the beach. Emilia says her favorite hangout spot is Sunburst Island because it reminds her of her family's summer home in Watercolor Vineyards. I've never been there but from how she, Tony, and Michele described it, the island sounds beautiful!

While sightseeing and scavenging for eggs, Emilia filmed for her vlog and caught me and Daisy Jane  up on everything that's been going on at home. Selene, Arianne, and Vitoria are up to the usual, their latest adventure happened to be with Team Magic involving smoke screens, zombies, and frozen tidal waves. Kate's got a big tennis match coming up while Malka has a concert in a couple weeks. Rini and her grandma are doing well, running the shrine as usual and planning for their yearly spring trip to Tranquility Falls. Lena and Annie are busy at the hospital saving lives and helping others. Paget's doing all right, holding her own, taking it one day at a time. Andrea and Robin are doing their best too, keeping up with Selene and the others. Luciana's checking in on everyone as usual, coming to the rescue in the nick of time.

Hunting for eggs was a lot of fun! Emilia showed off her powers a little for the campers. As a Galaxy Fighter, she's Guardian Cyclone and her powers involve manipulating air into wind, creating powerful blasts that can be as strong as a hurricane. Since a good batch of the eggs are in hard to reach places (Why, Zipper, why?), it's a good thing we have Emilia here to help her out because she's currently the tallest person here right now, she's an agile climber, and can use her powers to drop eggs that are impossible to reach. In a stroke of luck, not a single egg was broken - and we were kinda rough with them.

Once we were satisfied with the amount of eggs we collected (maybe not satisfied but you can only collect so many eggs before you get annoyed by them popping up everywhere you go), it's time to get cooking! For savory dishes we made a bunch of quiches to put many of the eggs to good use and so we can freeze them for later. We made a bunch of different kinds - spinach and feta, four cheese, kimchi, salmon and cream cheese, shakshouka, garden veggies, sausage - it's a good thing we labeled everything! Of course, we used Emilia's trusty old recipe for a buttery, flaky crust that's not only delicious, but easy to make and freezes well.

The desserts was where we went all out. I happened to score a nice bargain with a barrel full of perfect peaches so we made a lovely pie with those. Daisy Jane taught us how to make egg tarts, a sweet treat I haven't had in forever. Coco made carrot cake cheesecake bars, Claude baked a giant quadruple chocolate mousse cake, and Dora made a lovely assortment of digestive biscuits to go with freshly brewed tea. Emilia made up a recipe on the spot - lemon vanilla cardamon bars - which turned out really good.

Since the lemon vanilla cardamon bars were such a hit, Emilia's gonna make a recipe video of it - at the camp. I still can't believe that Daisy Jane and I are gonna be on Emilia Eats - first for the vlog, now a recipe video! It's taken her years but Emilia plans to get most, if not all, her friends to appear on her channel. She plans to get Team Magic on next as she's planning a video with Mariposa and Skully, developing a recipe with Angie, figuring out what she wants to do with Luna that won't blow up the kitchen, and waiting on Pippa and Willow.

I can't wait to see what Emilia Eats has in store because Emilia's been knocking it out of the park lately! Her videos have always been consistently good but in the past few months she's been putting a lot more heart into it. Even when times were tough, Emilia always managed to put on a brave face. I remember watching her videos during those times, how despite everything that was going on, Emilia continued making recipes. We all have our different ways of coping with grief and hers was to continue with business as usual, which can be a good and bad thing.

Hanging out with her and watching her play with Michele Toni, I know for sure that Emilia's going to be all right. We can't undo the past and bring back lost loved ones, but we can carry on. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I think I see a little bit of Michele Toni's aunt and uncle in her. She's definitely got her mom's heart and spirit.

After a fun day of collecting eggs and baking, it's time for a well deserved bonfire dinner of quiches, seafood chowder, and freshly baked sourdough bread. Then tomorrow will be more egg hunting, baking, filming, and good old camping fun!

[luvdsc]

tag games ;

tagging :: @eggyukhei ; @jaemericano ; @aqiaquas ; @forehead-enthusiast ; @choerrypuffs ; @latetaektalk ; @winetae ; @taeyongtime ; @nochanchu 🌼

—

TAG GAME ONE

tagged by :: @njmin thank you, lovebug! ✨

— tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

omg ok it was april 2014, and I was procrastinating on homework and scrolling through youtube. shinee’s lucifer mv was recommended for some reason, and I was intrigued, so I clicked on it. From there, it just spiraled out of control. I was blown away like there’s this one dance move where they all lined up and taemin does this hand motion so fluidly and I was like “this is it.” More shinee mvs were recommended after I clicked that one, so I kept going and watching all the other ones until I watched them all. Their music is just so different and unique, like even after all this time, I can’t find another kpop group who mimics the music style of shinee. and all their solos are absolutely god tier, too!!! they really are gonna be my first and last kpop group. shinee withstood through my stan eras for other groups. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being their fan.

I also found snsd through shinee because their mvs were recommended after I clicked lucifer too. the first one I saw is the iconic gee. taeyeon stood out to me in those mvs. her voice is so distinct, and I’ve been a fan of her ever since. She didn’t have a solo then, but I searched up all her drama osts, song features, everything because I loved her voice so much even back then. so yeah, taeyeon and shinee will forever be my faves, and I love them a lot 💓

TAG GAME TWO

tagged by :: @latetaektalk thank you, linh !! 💖

rule :: answer the ten questions and write your own!

— how are you today?

I’m doing really good! I’m enjoying my summer, and my day is pretty lax. I’ve been facetiming friends, watching chopped, making banh bao with my mom, and doing my daily cardio ✨

— what book has had the biggest impact on your life?

the princess knight by cornelia funke. my elementary school did this thing where your parents can buy a book to donate to the school library under your name for your birthday. this was the book my sister chose for me when I was in kindergarten. I loved that book; I borrowed it so many times and kept rereading it. It’s a children’s picture book about a princess who secretly learns how to joust. the king tries to give her hand in marriage to the knight who wins the competition, but she defeats them all and chooses to marry the gardener’s son who she loves 💕

— what is something you think everybody should have done once in their life?

Travel. There’s just something so wonderful about going to a new place, whether that’s halfway across the world or just the town a few states over. It’s a lovely feeling embarking on an adventure to a place unknown to you where you can meet new people, try new foods even if it’s just a random dish at a restaurant you’ve never been to, and make memories with strangers that no one back home ever has to know about. There’s just something intriguing about being able to go somewhere else and be someone else for an hour or a day or a week before you return back home.

— what story are you the most proud of and why?

on my previous blog, I wrote a fic called the universe of us, and it’s 21k+ wc. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that fic, and although I can’t read it now without cringing, I really am super proud of myself for pulling through and writing that. The concept of it was unique, in my opinion, and I would love to rewrite it someday! 💫

on this blog, I am most proud of the dumbing down of love. that fic is personal to me because it is literally comprised of my college experiences in written format and the characters embody my friends. I wrote that over the span of 3-4 nights, and that’s the fastest I’ve ever written a fic of that length. the words just flowed so easily for that fic, and the quesadilla scene was the first thing I wrote, and I’m quite proud of that scene!! 💓

— what has made you really happy recently?

I graduated uni!!!!! 💛💛

— what is the first thing you want to do after this whole pandemic is over and it’s safe to go out again?

I want to eat sushi LOL I haven’t had it in four months, and I’m craving it so badly.... I also want to go out with my friends again! I miss being able to see them everyday and our late night shenanigans ):

— if you had to make a soundtrack/playlist based on your life, how would you call it and which songs would you include?

honestly, these are just a bunch of my favorite songs throughout my entire life. some of them don’t relate to me personally, but I remember listening them on repeat, and I still know all the lyrics to them 💘

title: cue the soundtrack of my life

songs: complicated ⋆ avril lavigne ⋮ check yes, juliet ⋆ we the kings ⋮ the way i loved you ⋆ taylor swift ⋮ a daydream away ⋆ all time low ⋮ that’s what you get ⋆ paramore ⋮ i won’t give up ⋆ jason mraz ⋮ holy ground ⋆ taylor swift ⋮ lucifer ⋆ shinee ⋮ don’t go ⋆ exo m ⋮ 1000 years ⋆ shinee ⋮ breathe ⋆ taeyeon & jonghyun ⋮ coffee ⋆ bts ⋮ you are in love ⋆ taylor swift ⋮ walk you home ⋆ nct dream ⋮ i ⋆ taeyeon ⋮ tell me what to do ⋆ shinee ⋮ mad city ⋆ nct 127 ⋮ gravity ⋆ taeyeon ⋮ blueprint ⋆ stray kids

— what is your favourite breakfast food?

omg it’s this one dish that I order every time I go to the diner near my university, and it’s a smoked salmon eggs benedict with hollandaise sauce and hash browns 🤩🤩

— how did you get into writing and is it something you would like to do as your job?

I’ve always enjoyed writing, and my teachers sent me to the young authors’ faire every year from kindergarten to 8th grade. You don’t really get to write creative stories in class when you’re older though, and I stumbled upon fanfiction, and here we are. It’s not something I want to do as my job though. Writing is simply a fun pastime and hobby for me!! If I was forced to write or profit off of it, then that’d take fun out of it ):

— did you remember to drink enough water today?

yes, I did!! I make sure to drink 6-8 large cups of water a day :’) stay hydrated!!! 🤍

my questions for you:

what’s your favorite jelly bean flavor?

if you hated your child, what name would you give them?

do you pour cereal first or milk first?

do you like pineapple on your pizza?

if you could be a celebrity for the day, who would you be and why?

what are three dealbreakers for you in a relationship?

what’s your favorite word and why?

would you rather punch your ult bias in the face full force or lick the porta potty that hasn’t been cleaned after Coachella weekend?

which song(s) would you cut out from nct’s discography?

what’s the most unique/interesting food you’ve ever eaten?

TAG GAME THREE

tagged by :: @pwarkhans ty, sweetpea! 🌸

rule :: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

[timelock97]

Love Without A Name

Chapter Five: The Morning Of

Word Count: 2605

Masterlist

Warnings: Language

A/N: I used a church setting, I have never been to another wedding besides catholic weddings so I skipped the more religious parts just to let you know in advance!!

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

"Wakey, wakey, bitch!" Celine yells, walking into the shared hotel room where Mae, Joyce, and I had been previously peacefully sleeping. "It's show day!"

"Correction" Mae murmurs, muffled against her pillow, "it's her wedding day, not a show day."

"Hush, it's still gonna be amazing!" Celine jumps on the bed and begins to bounce on her knees until she is practically on top of me, "C'mon, you still gotta shower and eat. Then we can head to the church!" When I don't move, Celine turns until her back is facing me and plants herself on top of me, a groan leaving my lips at the sudden weight." C'mon (Y/N), it's the big day!"

"Please tell me you at least brought breakfast?" I uncover my head slightly, peeking out from under the duvet to find her eyes in the dimly lit room.

"You know it!" She calls as sits up and bounces to the end of the bed. Once off, she takes the last bit of effort she knows will force me out of bed by flinging off the covers, revealing my pajama clad body that was no match against the small chill in the room. She makes her way back to her backpack where she begins to pull out three other Starbucks reusable cups from inside. How she got back here without spilling them is a mystery in itself.

I groan, finally rolling out of bed and making my way over to have a small sip of coffee and attempt to snatch a bit of one of the bagels she has brought with her, only to have my hand slapped away.

"Nope! This will be waiting here for you after a quick shower! The hot water will cause you to not digest as easily!"

"Who told you that, Cel?" I grumble, taking my coffee with me to the small bathroom.

"You did!" She sings back, a breathy chuckle leaving my lips as I shake my head at her.

Shutting the door behind me, I lean against it. I take a slow breathe in through my nose, and let it out slowly through my mouth before meeting my own gaze in the mirror. My pajama shirt was falling to one side, and pulled forward so that the collar of the shirt showed off the bareness of my chest. My hair that had been up in a bun before bed was falling out excessively around my shoulders. I can't help but smile at my reflection. "Today's the day." I whisper to my reflection. A small squeal falls past my lips as I begin undressing before hopping into the shower to wash the grim of the night away. Taking the time to exfoliate and shave, making sure to not miss any spots (or at least trying to), nearly cutting myself when a loud bang comes from the door.

"Your food's gonna be cold, let's go our beautiful bride!" Celine calls, making Mae and Joyce giggle along with her.

"Be out in a minute!" I call, rinsing out my hair out one more time before turning off the water and hopping out. I lather lotion down my legs and arms before dressing into a tee shirt and shorts, throwing my hair into a clip, and joining the girls back at the table. Today was the first day to the rest of my life.

When we arrive at the church, I take a minute to wave the girls off to the room we'd be spending a few hours in before the ceremony. I stand in the main space looking at the little kid drawings from past Sunday school classes and events. I walk slowly over to the main doors of the church hall, placing my hands on the handles and pushing them open. The room was dimly lit from the morning light flooding in from the vast windows. The pews were decorated with small flower arrangements, bits of lavender and forget-me-nots shining through the most. I brush my fingers against a few of the petals as I walk down to the first pew. I sit softly, fold my hands, and shut my eyes, letting any insecurities into the air to be filtered away from my heart for the remaining afternoon. Please, please, please, let today go better than planned.

"Hello." My head snaps up to look at the man in front of me; I immediately recognize that he had to be the priest. "Having a nice conversation?" He smiles gently before motioning if he can sit down.

"Yeah," I move to the side a bit so that he can sit beside me. "It helps with the stress, getting all my anxieties out to him, and making a few wishes too."

He hums, nodding his head. "What are some things you're wishing for?"

"Uh, a happy marriage," I giggle, watching the smile spread further across his face, "That everyone enjoys the day, that my fiancé isn't disappointed in who I am."

His eyes light up, smile growing impossibly bigger. "So my suspicions were correct, you're the bride."

"Yeah," I stick my hand out for the man to shake, "I'm (Y/N)."

"Father Richard Hall. Your fiancé has been excited for this day for a while; told me all about you."

"Really?" I giggle.

"Mhm," he lets go of my hand after giving it another firm squeeze. "Talks about how beautiful and how down to earth you are; says he couldn't be getting married to a more perfect girl."

"He hasn't even seen me-"

"Love doesn't have to see to know." He gives me another smile before standing, "Well, I will leave you to finish your conversation. It was nice to talk to you." He waves softly before walking to a side door and disappearing inside.

I let out another sigh before standing, walking out the main doors, and down the hall looking at all the signs to point me and my soon-to-be husband in the right direction without bumping into each other. The conversation between Mae, Celine, Joyce, and Hazel lead me to the room, the three of them giggling while a woman is set at the counter pulling out makeup and hair products as well as another woman who has her camera ready to take pictures who smile happily at me when I enter.

"There you are!" Hazel proclaims, walking away from the girls to pull me into a quick hug. She is dressed in a royal purple, knee length dress with capped sleeves. "Get changed, then Miranda can get started on your hair!"

I giggle and nod, walking past the girls who make a few silly faces at me as I pass before slipping into the bathroom and undress, changing the bra and panties for a nude pair and a body shaper, pulled and clipped to the bra to keep me looking slim. I grab the robe and slip it over my shoulders, tying it around the waist before stepping out and walking over to the woman who would be doing both my makeup and hair today.

"You ready, darling?" She muses, smiling at me through the mirror, hands already unclipping my hair to play with.

"As I will ever be," I whisper as she turns me away from the mirror.

Through the whole process of getting my hair and makeup done, I busied myself by conversating with Mae and Celine, checking with Hazel about a few things for the day that she had kept hidden from me (most at which she still did), and playing on my phone to post a few pictures from the past week.

"Alright, (Y/N), are you ready to see your final look?" Miranda giggles, standing in front of me.

"Turn me around!" I place my hands in front of my face as she does. A soft gasp falls past my lips, "Holy cow!" I tilt my head to the side; the half up half down curled hairdo framed my face perfectly, and let's not gets started on the make-up. She had done it naturally, making my eyes pop and gave my skin a healthy glow. "Miranda, I love it, thank you!" I turn in the chair to the side so I can stand and pull her into a warm hug.

"No problem, sweetie. Let me spray your face with the setting spray then we will be done! And I will stick around to make sure you don't need a touch up before or after the ceremony."

"I appreciate it," I giggle, shutting my eyes for the setting spray, the mist cooling my skin. "Now I just have to get dressed!"

"I am gonna step out for a few minutes, no misbehaving!" Hazel calls with her phone going to her ear, leaving us alone in the room.

My eyes dart over to Celine, who was already dressed in her light salmon pink dress that billows around her waist. She makes eye contact with me, shooting me a mischievous smile. "You think you can sneak out and deliver it now?"

"Oh hells yes, she won't even notice I'm gone." Celine walks over to me, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

"What did you do again?" Mae laughs, walking over to the two of us, Joyce not too far behind.

"Well, my fiancé likes Marvel stuff too, Spider-Man especially, so I got him a pair of socks and a note that says, 'just in case you get cold feet, I'll see you soon.' as well as a few other things that are for his eyes only with my name signed at the bottom; figured it would be nice since we haven't heard from each other in a week."

"Hand it over before I get caught!" Celine giggles, taking the small box from my hands. "Wish me luck! Get changed so we can do some quick girl photos before Hazel kicks us out."

"Luck!" I call as she slips out of the door. I turn and grab my wedding dress from off the hanger. "Wait, Cathy?" I look at the photographer, "did you happen to get a picture of the dress on the hanger?"

"Yup, you are all set, (Y/N)."

"Okay, perfect," I slip off the robe, not bothering to care about who was in the room since it was just the girls. I slip on the dress, Mae helping me fiddle it into place and zip me up. I turn and look in the mirror and let out a soft sigh, "Oh my God."

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)." Mae whispers, moving a little closer beside me; Joyce joining on the other side bouncing on the balls of her feet in agreement.

"You really do, sis." A voice mutters behind me, causing me to spin on the balls of my feet to see Lucas and Mark standing in the doorway, tears pricking their eyes.

Mark nods, lifting a hand to carefully wipe a tear from his eye. "Look gorgeous, pipsqueak."

"What are you two doing here?" I breathe, a hand coming to my chest to hold a small necklace that had been my grandmothers and the other goes to holds Mae's for comfort. My bare feet feel glued to the hardwood floor, but I want nothing more than to close the distance and to see my brothers up close after four months silence.

"You really didn't think we would miss our baby sister getting married, did you?" Mark snarks.

I turn my head to the side, the hand on my necklace tightening. "Honestly, yeah I did." I look up to see both their faces fall, but I continue, eyes directed at them only. "I figured I would, and that really broke my heart. But seriously, what are you two doing here?"

Lucas runs a hand through his hair before letting out a light laugh. "Your fiancé paid us a visit at the shop."

"We were pretty surprised too. He walked in, gave us his name and said he was the man that was marrying our little sister." Mark states, scuffing his foot on the floor. "He hoped if he were to tell us about how much you meant to him and how lucky he was to have you that we would come around."

"He said, and I quote, 'I fell for your sister without knowing what she looked like, it's the most simple of love I have. I don't have to be able to see her to know she is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I know she wants you to be there, you're her family, so I am trying to make it right by coming by and talking it out.' We were definitely surprised to say the least, but we decided that we still don't like or trust him, but we respect him." Lucas smiles gently, shrugging.

"And we love you, and we want you to be happy, so here we are. Ready to support whatever decision you make, even if we think you aren't making the best decision."

"And Mom and Dad?" I whisper.

"Waiting for us to apologize in case it went south." Mark laughs, quickly getting elbowed in the ribs by Lucas. "What, it's true!"

"Then go grab them, dipshit-" Lucas shoves him to the side.

"Hey," Mark points a finger at Lucas, "we are in a church-"

"Right, my bad. Go grab them, ya narwhal."

Mark rolls his eyes at Lucas and walks to the door, motioning just outside the door. My parents walk in and my mother lets out a gasp when she sees me, her hands flying to her face to attempt to fan away the tears. "Look at you, baby, you look so beautiful."

I pull her into my arms, hugging her tightly once she is close enough. Soon I look over her shoulder at my father. "Daddy?"

He visibly swallows, tears in his eyes. "Will you still allow me to walk you down the aisle, (Y/N)?" He whispers, tears finally falling. I reach for him, pulling him into the hug as well. Lucas and Mark quickly join, squishing me between the four of them.

"I love you guys," I whisper, going to wipe my eyes only to realize I had makeup on. "Fuck, Miranda, help." I whine.

She giggles from her place on the wall before walking toward me. "I can fix that."

"Thank, God." I giggle, "I don't wanna look like a raccoon walking down the aisle."

The door creaking open catches my attention, as well as everyone else's. "My other un-biological baby sister, where you been?" Mark calls, pulling Celine into a quick, tight hug.

"Running an errand for your actual sister." Celine states, but I can hear the slight, nervous tremor in her voice.

"You okay, Cel?"

"Yeah," I watch as she straightens up, giving me a bright smile before setting a small piece of paper on the counter. It has your name on it, and the handwriting almost looks too perfect. "I got this for you, but let's take pictures first yeah?"

"Yeah, then you guys can go find your seats." I state back, standing and grabbing the girls for a few pictures as well as my family. Once done, and everyone is still mingling, my eyes find the envelope that was left on a small coffee table. I grab the it, and tear open the top, fishing my hand inside to grab a piece of stiff card stock.

___

My love,

I hope you don't get cold feet either. I am beyond excited to finally see you. 2 o'clock cannot come any faster. See you soon.

I love you.

Thomas Holland

___

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

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! 

@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr | @snowxbarryxendgame | @let-me-luve-you | @mybitchborky | @linnyalou | @fanficscuziranout​ | @literallytrashhhhhh | @akweenbitch | @marveltomjunkie

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home- Chapter 7

Warnings: Language. Very mild sexual content. Angst.

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the dynamic of this piece! Your feedback is always, always appreciated! you have no idea how much it feeds me. ALL THE LOVE TO YOU.

Chris twined his fingers with yours, carefully aware as he led you downward over the rocky slope towards the waiting picnic. When you came to a ledge, too steep and potentially dangerous for his liking, his hopped himself onto flat, sinking sands first.

“Sit, then I’ll do the rest, yeah?”

He offered his hand and you tucked your dress beneath you, sitting uncomfortably on the stony, dusty edge of an eroded rock. Then, he armed your sides with his sure, masculine hands, squeezing you with a much-appreciated, tight grasp. You knew those hands would set your skin aflame if he touched you on bare flesh in that very spot, wishing you could see the white indented imprints of his fingers on you as you rode his lap. You held your breath, waiting to feel the itchy sand between your toes. But the sensation delayed, and delayed due to the clutching closeness of you he just couldn’t seem to let go of.

Your chest grazed over his well-worked pecks, your nipples abandoning all loyalty and standing at his mercy. The azure of his eyes was so clear, your flushed reflection stared back at you when you gawked into his face. He cleared his throat, shaking free the fantasy you hoped was swimming around in his head, and eased your feet back to earth. Your body instantly pined for the now absent scorch of Chris’ touch. The man was taking a non-refundable toll on every facet of your existence.

“Ok, so make yourself comfortable, and I’ll pour us a drink then. You’re good with sushi, right? Guess it’s a little late to be asking questions like that…” The boyish, uneasy nerve of his actions made him all the more magnificent.

Chris flipped the top of the basket, after pouring matching glasses of a crisp Moscato, and arranged a colorfully magnificent spread of fresh sushi, and sliced berries with hand-whipped cream. You swiped a strawberry from the bowl hoping he wouldn’t notice, and plopped the seeded berry into your drink. A quirk most wine connoisseur turned up a very disapproving nose to. He caught you, giving a look of uncertainty, yet honest curiosity and did the very same.

“This all looks amazing, and definitely delicious considering my lack of lunch today.”

You gathered up a wrapper of unopened chopsticks, ready to dive into the delightful fish buffet.

“So, you know how to use those now? Only took you how many years?” Chris smiled, lashes batting downward as he surveyed the meal, deciding which roll to sample.

“Excuse you?”

He chewed the chunk of salmon whole, attempting to laugh jovially yet maintain his closed mouth and keep his manners in tow.

“I remember one year, my senior, I think. So, you would’ve been super young, but you were over hanging out with my sister. Scott and I gave you so much shit when you picked up a fork to eat your take-out with. You don’t remember that?”

You did. You sort of inexcusably remembered things very vividly from your childhood, and teen years if he was anywhere in the memory. He and his brother, Scott, had ordered Chinese for the next two months any time you were over to visit their sister, and withheld the food from you until you could graduate from using a fork with your sesame chicken. Their saint of a mother thankfully took a handle on their innocent pestering and lined the troublemakers out.

But, you’d never expect Chris to keep that hollow recollection within his mind, after all these years certainly.

“I was so traumatized over what you two bullies had done to me, that I made my parents eat take-out once a week so I could practice. I’m a master of the trade now, so I guess I should thank you for the heckling. Asshole.” You punctuated with placing the sushi in your mouth with ample grace and perfection using the chopsticks, causing him to mockingly bow to you.

He was laid leisurely on his side, legs crossed at his bare ankles, his weight held up on an elbow. You faced to him, mindful of the hem of your summer dress, but the indecent corners of your mind clandestinely wanted to “accidentally” let it fall high up your thigh, and see if he took the bait.

Does anyone smell that? It’s… It’s, desperation, maybe?

Amongst the smell of the salty spray of ocean, the honking squeals of passing gulls, the perfectly blended pinks and yellows of the swirling glow of the sunset cascading over his contented smile, you felt drunk. It was becoming all too real the ache your heart was beginning to feel for him, the need even. You rifled your hair, and shook loose the tightness of desire caressing your muscles. Just when you thought you had cleared the onset attack of foggy want, Chris stroked the curve of your thigh where your legs crossed beneath you.  

“The ocean air looks good on you, Millie…” His voice became robust, and weighted.

Inching a tad closer toward him, urging him to rise and sit upright next to you, he swiped up a lock of your hair, and ghosted the worked pads of his fingers down the point of your exposed collarbone.

Your breaths turned to ravenous, breathy moans instead of normal, composed exhales when the neckline of his shirt turned cockeyed and you caught a glimpse of that perfectly placed tattoo on his chest.

“Too good, in fact. And, I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to stop myself from doing what I really want to do right now…”

Your eyelids sagged in ecstatic anticipation, hoping your assumptions were correct and he was finally about to let you touch those lips with yours.

Chris’ exploring finger painted down the bumps of your neck, over the pendant of your necklace, slower & slower down. Down to the plumped roundness of your cleavage, his eyes watched the trail he was creating over your body.

He stood onto his knees, walking on them to steal away your personal space, bringing his hands up to the back of your neck. You turned over control of your body and let him drag your face into his, closing your eyes and inhaling the Moscato sweetness of his breath when finally, his mouth seized yours.

It was slow at first, as if time had stopped simply for him, and he wet your lips with only the gentle point of his tongue. With your palms resting on his chest, you followed the eager carnality of his hearts cadence, and moved your lips to the rhythm, increasing the massage over his mouth. You sought out the wet movements of his tongue, opening up to swallow up its softness, and Chris mewled with approval. He grabbed at your curvy hips, insisting you fall into his lap, and you obeyed with keen obedience.

Immediately, the plumped bulge between his legs intruded the crevice between your thighs as your dress fell around him.

“Damn it, Amelia. I can’t fuckin’ help myself anymore.” The way he used your first name made you do the untimely, weird hiccup thing that only he could elicit. It felt like a dangerous warning, and feverish plea at the same time.

“Then, don’t. Please, please don’t.” You ground circles into his groin, thankful for the decision you’d made to wear those lacy, very thin panties that allowed you to feel his amply sized gift between his legs.

His open, paw-like hands rounded over the curve of your hips slowly, ending up perfectly placed over both cheeks of your behind, where he crammed fistfuls of the flesh into his clutches. You couldn’t breath, and yet it was the most welcomed sense of asphyxiation to be drained breathless by his greedy kiss.

“When was the last time somebody touched this sensational body the way it deserves, Mil? You’re soaking my jeans under you, sweetheart.” He spoke mumbled as his bottom lip was captured between the points of your teeth.

Too long. But, something tells me only you can really show me what it deserves.

“A body like this… Fuck me, Amelia. How could any man not worship you?”

Your chin felt chaffed and bare from the slight irritating friction of his beard on your sensitive skin as he nuzzled sporadic kisses there. His bruising squeezes crept under the hem of your dress, ceasing for only a brief moments hesitation, before his thumb began to play circles over the round bulb begging for release at your core.

You hissed, and your head fell back in arduous bliss, the ends of your cascading hair tickling his thighs. Just as you felt him pull back the seam of your panties so he could feel the softness skin-to-skin, you heard the horrified, apologetic clearing of a throat over Chris’ shoulder.

“Mmhm. So sorry, Mr. Evans. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it seems we have to be heading to the airport soon.”

You buried your scorching face into his shoulder due to being caught almost literally with your pants down, his drivers’ words not fully registering. Chris rubbed comforting circles over your back, coaxing you to relax atop him.

“Thank you. We’ll be right up, if you could just give us a minute to… compose ourselves.” Chris smiled as you climbed to a stand, situating your rumpled dress.

“My God… I feel like I’m 15 and my parents just caught me making out on the couch.” You were a grown, capable, sexual being and what had happened was nothing to be ashamed of. But the giddy feelings Chris seemed to stir up made you feel like a horny teenager again.

“It’s probably a good thing he showed up. Or the two of us may have just been arrested for public indecency had I gone any further…” He moved to kiss the crown of your head, picnic basket and the sandy blanket in hand as the two of your left your quiet corner of the beach, dreadfully back into reality.

He insisted on walking you up to your room once back to the hotel, even though you knew his plane would be anxiously awaiting take-off. It shattered your heart that he was leaving you after some ground had finally been broken between the two of you. But perhaps, he wouldn’t be gone long?

In the still empty hallway, he pulled you into a hug in front of your suite door.

“I’m glad you came with me tonight, Amelia. I had an amazing time with you, as usual.”

“I’m glad I came, too. It was perfect. You’ve outdone yourself today, Evans.” The point of your chin rested at the center of his chest as your short form looked upward at him, still nestled between his arms.

“Moments like these, the leaving, are we I can’t handle relationships. Not serious ones, anyway…”

You gulped.

“Wh… what do you mean?”

“I hate the goodbyes. I get a little attached, and then I have to hop a plane and turn my life upside down for 3 months. It’s too much for me, and I know it’s too much to ask of any woman. So, I just don’t waste my time, or anyone else’s.”

3 months? That’s doable. You could manage 3 measly months.

“But, 3 months isn’t an unbearable amount, ya’ know… Hypothetically speaking, I mean…”

The high you were riding, plummeted and you hit the unforgiving ground face first. He’d made it clear, then and there. No bones about it. He simply didn’t “do” relationships. Or, he didn’t want to do one with you, and the coverup seemed believable enough.

“This time, I’m dealing with 8 months. Ma’ wasn’t too thrilled about that one.”

He must’ve noticed the droop of your face.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, Amelia.”

You humored him, modeling your bravest face.

“A woman like you, as fantastic as you, deserves all the attention, and worshipping one can give. And I know, my lifestyle simply doesn’t allow that. If I can’t give you what I know you deserve, I’m not about to sell you short.”

You would though. You’d sell yourself short if it meant him. As soon as you felt pieced together for once since the spilt with your ex, you were cleaved apart again in a matter of minutes.

“Yeah, no… I totally get it. I’m not ready for anything serious with all this divorce shit I have swimming around me. I can’t handle a relationship right now.”

Unless it’s with you..

You hoped maybe the breezy, careless way you had spoken to him would make him see that the two of you could simply just, have fun, with each other. Pining for more with him would be better than not getting him at all. Right?

Aware he was wrestling with your suggested approach to a casual, here-and-there hookup, your mind reeled into overdrive, thinking of what you could say to push him over the edge.

“I mean, it couldn’t really work out any better for either of us, right? You don’t have the time for some clingy ball and chain, and I, am nowhere near ready to assume that role again…” You slid your hand into the front packet of his jeans mischievously, wondering who this fake bimbo was possessing your body. Was your heart in such need for him, and companionship that it would completely transform you into some emotionless shell that settled for only crawling into his bed on occasion…. Knowing full well you deserved more, as he had said. Hook-ups were fine, you weren’t opposed. But you knew it would always be much, much more with him.

“When you put it that way…” he groaned into your ear, nibbling.

He captured you into a kiss, heavy on the tongue, and rough on the lips. Your toes stretched to be closer to him, wanting to permanently mold his plush mouth to yours.

“I have to go, beautiful. But, I’ll call you soon. Promise.”

He’d call you, He promised he would, and a promise he would never break. But, you fought back the beating of tears at your eyes knowing it would only be to settle his manly ache, and nothing more. In that moment, your heart dropped. Along with your self respect…

TAGS: @eap1935 @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

[forthesapphicsonly]

I just invade your office to suggest you self-defense classes… (Part 2)

Part 1

This is a little big, so there will be a third and last part :3

i'm gonna tag who asked for a continuation:  @therandomblogger07 @scajess @rebornpoet @becka107

Lena sighed for what would be the umpteenth time

That was a bad idea, right?

She was being stupid. What good was an IQ of more than 170 if she could not even make confident decisions for herself?

"I should just turn around and get back to L-Corp" she murmured to herself as she surveyed the shed a few feet away.

She was actually considering finding a stranger (who, don’t forget, just broke into her office) to really consider the idea of ​​some defense classes?

How old was she? Five?

Oh boy, what would your mother say if she saw you now?

"As if it really matters, all she wants is to see me dead" she murmured again, pausing for a second to close her eyes and take a deep breath.

Okay, she could do that. What if everything went wrong?!

Well, she could always count on good luck and a certain superhero to save the day ...

Wait, that's just the kind of thought that proves the point of the reason for it to be there.

Lena snapped her tongue and decided that she would get it over with, closing the remaining path to the shed. It was large and she could say that it had been recently renovated. But it was discreet and certainly the kind of place you might not risk going by yourself if you didn’t know exactly what was inside

Which was exactly what she was doing now.

Oh, that doesn’t get any better, does it?

The first thing she noticed when she entered the doors was that the interior was definitely more inviting than outside. The place was clean, bright and the equipment certainly new.

She took a few steps to the inside watching her around and assimilating the environment when her eyes landed on you.

In casual wear

On a salmon ladder

And oh, was that an abs?

A well defined abs

and .. she was too gay to stand it now

you heard a small choking sound and turned his head in Lena's direction, startling and dropping the bar.

And if it were not for your good reflexes, you would have just passed through the greatest tale in history

"Miss Luthor" you greeted, cursing yourself mentally when your voice came out one octave higher "I didn't hear you come in ..." you walked a little closer

You noticed that Lena didn't look directly into your eyes, staring at the surroundings, the ceiling, the floor, everything but you

"Er .. it's a good place" she commented and you smiled lightly, nodding. You were quite proud of the gym you held.

"Yeah, it's taken a while but it's perfect now" you were silent for a few seconds until you scratched your throat and smiled uncomfortably. "I really didn't expect you to come ..."

Lena finally turned her eyes to you raising one eyebrow well an acquisitive look.

"Well, you made the invitation" she seemed to remind you. Her tone was not accusatory. Would you say fun and a little curious maybe?

"Yes, well ... I invaded your heavily guarded building. I've been waiting for the cops to come in here all week" you folded your arms across your chest in a way to try to hide your embarrassment

Lena smiled amused, it was good to see your embarrassment, it took her focus from your sweaty inviting abs

"Is well. It was not like you showed up there in an attempt to kill me or something, right? "You almost cringed over the intense green eyes pointed at you.

"R-Right. It's the opposite, actually. "You turned on your heels and called you to sit down.

"Yeah, I've been up all week with that in my head. And I didn’t come here to accept the proposal, not yet. Not until I knew why" and there it was ...

The serious tone of a business woman, suspicious, sharp, ready for anything.

You gave a small smile and noted an empty spot for a second or two

"Is it hard to believe anyone wants the safety of a Luthor?" You turned your attention to her.

Lena looked surprised, but only for a second.

"You can't blame me, can you?"

You laughed, what really bewildered her for a moment, because ..

A person should not sound like angels while laughing, right?

"Yeah, I figured you'd tell me that. The point here, Miss Luthor, is that I identified with you. With your situation ... "you pursed your lips, thinking of a better way.

"A mother and brother psychopaths and murderers?" Lena teased, but you could feel the pain in her voice.

"Something like that" lowered Luthor's guard a little and made her more curious.

"I'm going to need more than that, you broke into my office, remember?"

"You're not going to let me forget that, are you?" Lena just grinned.

And you wondered what it would be like if she smiled at you.

Turning those thoughts away, you crossed your ankles and leaned on your arms, thinking about how to summarize your story.

History that no one knew, unknown to anyone but you

"See, I had to learn to defend myself early enough to deal with the shit my father left for me"

Lena leaned back, looking for a more comfortable position and stared at nothing, deciding not to focus her eyes on you to give her some privacy.

"He was a mobster. A big and important Mafioso "you made a face, scratching your nose" I didn’t know until his death, when his henchmen came to me looking for something I could not give them "

"Debts?" Lena supposed

"A lot of them" you started playing with your fingers "Every week someone would come to me. They thought I would take the lead after his death. Some expected me to pay them, and others ... well, they just wanted me dead" Lena narrowed her eyes at the story.

She could relate to the feeling.

Take on Lex Corp, deal with all the shit left by your brother. be targeted imminent for that.

"I started to live by running away. I barely knew how to punch someone, how would I deal with armed people?" You narrowed your eyes at the memory. Of a thin frail girl, clumsy and disorderly. Yeah, that was you.

"So I met a guy" you smirked at the memory and Lena's gaze turned to you. She caught the smile. "He was a close friend of my father and he had sworn to protect me" you snorted but Lena could feel the affection as you spoke. "I told him that just like my father, he would get killed and I would be unprotected again. That if he wanted to help me, he would help me by training. And okay, I'll admit that maybe asking a Russian mobster to train you was not the smartest decision to make" Lena held her grin against her and you shrugged.

"He taught me everything he knew. And when he ... " you paused, taking a deep breath" ... and when he died, I joined the local police as an informant. I destabilized and destroyed all that mafia inside. That taught me a thing or two" you joked.

Lena looked away. She felt that she should not be here hearing this story but still, she could not find the strength to leave.

"Sounds like a bad action movie story, doesn't it?" Her comment finally snatched a little laugh from the brunette.

"I can relate to this"

"The question, Miss Luthor. It's just that I understand the feeling of being accused and attacked by something I didn’t do. Pay for my family's mistakes. And that I felt much better when I came to take control of the situation and learned to fight back. You strike me as an incredible and intelligent woman and certainly face more battles in one day than the entire national city in a month, I just want you to learn how to fight back. That when you are in danger, you don’t have to wait for a ransom. Well, making sure you don’t do anything stupid. Supergirl is awesome, but hey, if you don’t need a prince on a white horse, you certainly don’t need a hero on a cover. Not when you can be that hero. "

Lena blinked. She could feel them filling with water.

No one ever cared about her safety, and the few who did it seemed to treat her like glass. She remembered very well what Kara had said: "Be your own hero" and yet, Supergirl was always there to rescue her again.

And oh, don’t misunderstand,she was really grateful to Kara for that (and yes, she knew Kara was supergirl, damn), but Kara had a whole city to save and it was selfish and wrong to have a part of her friend's attention (who cares so much about her well-being) to be there for her all the time.

She needed to learn to take better care of herself.

Something that didn’t depend on a pepper spray and a stun gun.

"Um, you don’t have to say anything now. Take your time, you know where to ... "Lena interrupted you immediately.

"I want to" her voice was steady even with the crying in his throat.

You gave a small smile.

"Ok Miss Luthor, it's time to show the claws you have"

"Lena. Call me Lena "

[the-greediest-bisexual]

Tagged by @sydtheelf​

Name: Jay

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Taurus

Height: 5'7"

Sexuality: would putting a picture of justin timberlake’s ramen hair connote ‘bi bi bi’ in the same way it connotes ‘it’s gonna be May’?

What image do you have as your lock screen? Stock footage of a pretty female stripper popping out of a cake with Nic Cage’s face crudely photoshopped over hers. A friend made it for my 19th birthday.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? I keep on trying to work up the nerve to visit my old english professor in her office hours, even though I’m not in her class anymore. I think that counts.

Where do you see yourself in ten years? Ideally? Engaged to a lesbian. Living in an apartment big enough for a not-small dog. Making enough money that I can comfortably afford to cook myself farm-raised salmon.

If you could be anywhere else right now, where? Switzerland. I went there once very briefly on a school trip to Italy- it was like how I’d picture heaven.

What was your coolest Halloween costume? Hopefully next year’s- I’m trying to convince my roommate to go as Sebastian the crab so that I can go as the French chef.

What’s your favourite 90’s TV show? Buffy! Though I don’t watch a lot of 90s TV.

Last kiss? A guy I’m doing Heathers with- we’re the couple that’s making out during Big Fun. Wait.. I just realized we haven’t actually kissed yet, we’ve just been marking it. We should probably get on that. The show’s coming up!

Have you ever been stood up before? Nope.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? No, I’ve never really been out west. I’ve always wondered what it’s like growing up in Las Vegas though.

Favourite pair of shoes? Black chunky heels.

Favourite fruit? Raspberries

Favourite Book? That I read in the past year: North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. I was in two 19th century lit classes last term- Oliver Twist and Tenant of Wildfell Hall were also great.

In general: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. One of those books that feels like home. Movie was also fantastic.

That I reread the most: Graceling. I dream of adapting it into a mini-series. The Book Thief is also pretty high up there. Damn, I read a lot of YA! Whatever.

Stupidest thing you’ve ever done? Oh geez. I don’t know about ever, but I was pretty stupid at rehearsal tonight. We were all clumped onstage figuring out blocking. I reach into my pocket (was wearing men’s jeans so they were deep) and notice I have a rolled up packet of sugar from Dunkin Donuts. Naturally I start fiddling with it. ‘Wasn’t it full a second ago?’ I ask myself. It was; there is now a small hill of sugar at my feet. Nobody has noticed yet, but I don’t know how to get it all up. When I try the kid playing JD notices and jokes about how I ruined my stash. He said it quietly but people noticed. Now many actors are talking about my stash. It disrupts rehearsal and I have to keep insisting that it’s not cocaine, guys. Eventually someone hands me a broom and it only takes a few seconds to clean up after that, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to live it down.

[there-are-things-i-dont-forget]

She wants to not be hot and cold and uncomfortable all the time.

She wants to wake up on time.

She wants one day without a pounding headache.

She wants to be able to see without the need for glasses and smile without the need for braces and have long nails without feeling like ripping them off and have hair that does not need to be tied up to feel reasonable.

She wants to be comfortable in the body she hates.

She wants to stop avoiding mirrors.

She wants to stop feeling awkward in new situations. She wants to be able to fill the silence.

She wants to take back the scars, at the same time that she feels the need to make more.

She wants a best friend that will understand and sit with her and make her laugh and ask her what her favourite colour and take her out for rides on his motorbike and protect her and tell her it’s okay and understand that sometimes it’s not and just hold her while she breaks down.

She wants an older brother to be her companion and her best friend and someone she can just go to without being judged.

She wants someone that will make her feel the way the right music does. Lost It All. The Kids Aren’t Alright. Alone. Mercy. Brother. The Ghost of You. Nothing Left To Say.

She wants the characters in books to be her friends, because they are all she has at times.

She wants friends. People to laugh with and to not worry about offending and people that won’t joke about depression, anxiety, being triggered or suicide, because to her it’s not a joke and can’t they see that? Can’t they see that she doesn’t laugh and that she has scars and that sometimes she holds a blade and thinks about it? They’ve seen the scars. They only look at her disapprovingly when she rakes her nails up her skin in Science. They don’t ask why. They just say no.

She wants to leave this city, this country, go somewhere that has something for her.

She wants a family that understands.

She wants an uncle that doesn’t make fun of Every. Single. Fucking. Thing she has done, and a sister that doesn’t make her feel like shit whenever she takes a step. She wants to be able to run to her cousins without feeling stupid, and she wants to be able to know that they don’t just listen to her because they have no other choice, but because they want to and because they care.

There aren’t many people who have said I love you to her.

In fact, she can only count three. Mother, father, old nanny? It doesn’t feel like they mean it.

She wants to scream and cry and rip and hit things, because everything has been bottled inside far too long.

She needs someone to talk to.

She needs someone that won’t leave.

She wants people she looks up to, to say it’s gonna be okay, because she knows they know what it feels like.

She wants to disappear for a bit, but know what’s going on. She wants to know how long until they notice she’s gone. She wants to know how long until they miss her. She wants confirmation, the knowledge that someone actually cares enough to shed tears on her behalf.

Is she selfish for wanting that? For wanting to know if someone cares? For wanting to know who would cry at her funeral, and what they would say about her, and how much would be lies that only she knows the truth of, and how much would be lies that they all know the truth of, and how much would be the truth that they wish were lies.

She wants more space.

Everything seems too much, too pressed in, too many people, too many judges, too many, too many.

She wants to blast music and watch her shows and cry over characters and stories and deaths and not feel the shame her family gives her for it.

She wants to dye her hair and get tattoos and paint her nails and go to concerts.

She wants to feel comfortable in herself.

She wants to be able to dance, to paint, to act, to write, to be healthy, to get something above a D in her mental tally.

They call her pretty. Sorry for not believing it, for thinking you only say it because you feel obligated. Sorry I don’t feel pretty.

“You know, people pay thousands to have hair like yours”. No, they don’t. People pay thousands to have nicely controlled curls or ringlets or waves, and they can be rid of them whenever they want. She has all three at the same time, and the only time it’s not in a ponytail is when its wet, or else it goes everywhere and she. Is. Not. Ok. With. That., because she doesn’t like it and doesn’t feel at acceptable when it’s loose and she sees all the other girls that are fine with their beautiful, messy, hair and she thinks “why can’t I just accept it” and then she looks in the mirror and is reminded yet again of her face.

“Stop being so fussy” she’s sorry that she doesn’t enjoy the taste of all the different foods but mum, you don’t like tomatoes, you don’t eat them, so why should I? Dad, you don’t like red meat all that much, you avoid it, so why must I eat the pork I’m served when I don’t enjoy it? Alice, you won’t even try the fruit, so why must you condemn me for not eating the vegetables? Oli, two months ago you didn’t like salmon, why are you glaring at me for not eating it?

i’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY

Sorry for not being perfect, for not liking everything, for being scared of heights, and always accidently asking for the most expensive things on the menu because it seems like the only thing I might like before checking if there is something else I might half enjoy. Sorry for needing every detail in a story to be right, I know it annoys you mum. Sorry for not getting up immediately when you ask me to do something dad. Sorry for being the difficult middle child, for not being good at anything. Sorry for not telling you.

Sorry for being afraid of you.

Sorry for flinching whenever something moves suddenly

Sorry for hating loud noises that aren’t music.

Sorry for being short tempered

Sorry for not telling you about the scars

Sorry about not telling you about the lies

Sorry about not letting you on my phone; it seemed like the only thing I could control

Sorry to the people I hang out with, for not always having the right answers, and for not offering to do things in class, sorry for preferring to work by myself, sorry for knowing that the only reason you all want me to be part of your different groups is because you think i’m smart, and because you know i’ll do all the work if you ask me to. Sorry for not having a backbone.

Sorry to me for being me.

Because the girl from the beginning.

I’m her.

And I’m tired.

[cynthiajayusa]

The Tasty Star of Netflix’s ‘Queer Eye’ Talks Fluid Sexuality

Antoni Porowski is known for his avocados. But on a recent afternoon he was contemplating the coconut, mapping every sultry detail of the tropical fruit as if it were the body of a new lover: the fleshy inside, the milky nectar.

It’s the first day of June when the Polish-Canadian wine-and-dine expert on Netflix’s Queer Eye reboot rings and, oh right, we’re talking about food. But gay America isn’t hungry: It’s thirsty AF.

And because real lives are being changed thanks to Porowski, designer Bobby Berk, culture advisor Karamo Brown, stylist Tan France, and groomer Jonathan Van Ness, it is also joyfully crying.

Season 2 of Queer Eye — note the dropped qualifier, a nod to the show’s new inclusivity — doesn’t skimp on opportunities for you to feel good about this otherwise not-good world, as the Fab Five imparts their best-life insight and general gay wisdom to a diverse group of clients, including the franchise’s first woman and transgender man.

As Porowski continues to process the experience, and the attendant upswing in gay male thirst and avocado sex puns, the 34-year-old subject of culinary controversy talked critics and why variety truly is the spice of life.

In the new promo video for the show, with Betty Who singing the theme, you’re cradling avocados and wearing a crop top. The avocado dick puns have been out in full force.

I guess I asked for it, right? I’m literally wearing a crop top and unsuccessfully trying to juggle avocados, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

WATCH:

I must say, I do hope the crop top becomes your signature look in the third season.

[Laughs.] Thanks! I do have to give credit where it’s due, and that was 100 percent Tan France.

When it comes to you, the thirst is real. What is that kind of attention like from the gay community?

I do maintain a certain amount of ignorance to it — and a kind of detachment. There’s been a lot of really amazing and positive attention from the show. But with that, there’s also gonna be haters. If I’m gonna take the good, I have to take the bad, so I’ve decided to take neither.

I just try to focus on what my next move is with this show, with press that we’re working on, living out of hotels for the past couple of months, and hoping that people really enjoy [this season] as much as they did the first.

When you’re living out of hotels, how do you maintain a healthy diet?

I don’t! That’s the honest truth. I’m not one to deny myself the pleasures of, like, a good ripe stinky cheese on a crusty slice of fresh-baked bread in Paris.

Oh, I’ve seen you indulge on the show.

It happens.

You’re not afraid of some macaroni salad.

There ya go! Well, but that wasn’t my recipe.

It wasn’t, but you still ate it.

Oh, I ate it. I’ll try anything twice.

Are you still trying to wrap your head around your overnight fame?

Yeah. I mean, it certainly hits in waves. We were just in London, and when you experience people who’ve been waiting outside of your hotel with magazines to sign, it’s kind of like, “Wow, you’re a human with a life and a job, presumably, who wanted to wait to have a moment.” I’m grateful for it, but it’s not something I want to be too comfortable with. It’s very bizarre and very overwhelming.

What my therapist tells me is, “Don’t trust your feelings right now because you’re constantly basically running on adrenaline — your life right now is pure adrenaline.” It’s been like overdrive, so it’s just, take everything very lightly.

What are your gay fan interactions outside of hotels like?

I feel like I’m pretty good at reading people, but with fans, the energy and the direction of it is very different. So my thing is: Ask them a question about themselves, try to make this a human interaction, and try to normalize it, just to make sure that the person has a nice, meaningful experience and they can leave happy.

[But] sometimes I’m left, like, taking care of people. They’ll come up, and their mouths open and they don’t say anything. I have to kind of take care of them and be like, “Are you OK? It’s fine. Here, do you want a hug? Do you want a photo?”

You don’t just go right in for the hug?

No, I’m a little — yeah, I have more of a European sensibility. We like to kiss twice. Or, I don’t know, healthy boundaries?

Kiss twice, though? Everyone must just enjoy meeting you.

[Laughs.]

How has helping other people on this show changed your approach to your own life?

I’ve had many passions: I studied psychology; I worked as a gallery director; I photographed vintage furniture. And on the acting side of things, that was something that was always very ego[-driven]. I wanted people to look and see and feel my presence, whereas with the show, it actually isn’t that at all. The energy is directed in the other direction, so it’s really us being of service to this person that we’re helping.

We see that happen in the first episode of Season 2, with Mama Tammye

Mama Tammye is an example who spun it on us, and doesn’t even take care of herself and shows up as a teacher and as a member of her church, and for the five of us.

You cried at the end of that episode. Of the Fab Five, who cries the most?

You’re talking to him! When you hear somebody’s struggle, or especially when they’ve overcome something or made a choice like Tammye — there was a lot of pain and a lot of fear and borderline hateful feelings toward gays, and she realized that it was her perspective that was wrong, and she’s a beacon of hope for people.

It’s possible at any age. If you have people like Tammye who were able to figure it out, there’s no excuse for the rest of us.

Even though you’ve been with men and women, you’ve said that you don’t like to call yourself bisexual. Have you found the best way to explain your sexual orientation to people yet?

Not really. And it’s not something I feel too pressured to figure out.

I have very strong opinions about how to cook a filet of salmon so the skin remains crispy and doesn’t stick to the pan, but with a lot of things, I don’t like being the expert. I’d rather go in and be like, “I don’t know.” There’s a power in that for me. It’s sort of like going in with humility and saying, “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

While I don’t think I’m trying to figure out my sexuality, I’m just not as concerned with it anymore. It’s this dynamic process. I’d just rather keep it open and fluid, because that’s how I am with the books that I read, the music that I listen to. All of my interests are always changing, and it’s a constant dynamic process, and so is my sexuality.

Is today June 1?

Today is June 1.

It has me thinking about Pride and what Pride means: the ability to be the truest version of yourself without any negative consequence or fear of being persecuted or judged or criticized or hurt for it. And whatever that is for a person, however you define yourself or don’t define yourself, you should be able to do that with total freedom.

I read that you were a private chef for some high-profile clients.

It was something that kind of happened accidentally, cooking for people. I’m not a classically trained chef, where I’m in a kitchen and I’m doing my own thing; I’m an entertainer, that’s who I am. And I love food, and I love playing with it, and I love preparing it for people. It’s how I show my love.

It wasn’t an everyday thing, where I showed up and made breakfast, lunch, and dinner for someone. I’ve always had, like, 10 different things going on at the same time.

If you could cook for any celebrity, who would it be and what would you cook?

Dead or alive?

They can be dead.

I would take something off of the menu at Voltaire in Paris, and I would prepare it for Oscar Wilde. I would slap my copy of De Profundis in front of him and be like, “We’re gonna talk about this for five hours, and I’m gonna feed your belly, and I’m gonna get you drunk, and you’re just gonna tell me everything and answer all of my questions.”

You’re on a desert island and you have to survive on just one food: What is it?

I love a fresh coconut. You crack it and you have the milk, which is so delicious, but the flesh too. There’s that creamy part on the inside that you can scoop with a spoon, and then there’s the really hard shell part that, if you roast it with sugar, it gets caramelized and really nice and crunchy.

So, I think coconuts. I’d get fed up with them after a week, but I don’t know what food I wouldn’t get fed up about, truly. Ask me again tomorrow.

I’ve never thought about the flesh of a coconut until now, and it sounds weirdly sexy.

[Laughs.] Oh, think about it. Go buy a fresh coconut and think of me.

WATCH:

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/06/28/the-tasty-star-of-netflixs-queer-eye-talks-fluid-sexuality/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-tasty-star-of-netflixs-queer-eye.html

[demitgibbs]

The Tasty Star of Netflix’s ‘Queer Eye’ Talks Fluid Sexuality

Antoni Porowski is known for his avocados. But on a recent afternoon he was contemplating the coconut, mapping every sultry detail of the tropical fruit as if it were the body of a new lover: the fleshy inside, the milky nectar.

It’s the first day of June when the Polish-Canadian wine-and-dine expert on Netflix’s Queer Eye reboot rings and, oh right, we’re talking about food. But gay America isn’t hungry: It’s thirsty AF.

And because real lives are being changed thanks to Porowski, designer Bobby Berk, culture advisor Karamo Brown, stylist Tan France, and groomer Jonathan Van Ness, it is also joyfully crying.

Season 2 of Queer Eye — note the dropped qualifier, a nod to the show’s new inclusivity — doesn’t skimp on opportunities for you to feel good about this otherwise not-good world, as the Fab Five imparts their best-life insight and general gay wisdom to a diverse group of clients, including the franchise’s first woman and transgender man.

As Porowski continues to process the experience, and the attendant upswing in gay male thirst and avocado sex puns, the 34-year-old subject of culinary controversy talked critics and why variety truly is the spice of life.

In the new promo video for the show, with Betty Who singing the theme, you’re cradling avocados and wearing a crop top. The avocado dick puns have been out in full force.

I guess I asked for it, right? I’m literally wearing a crop top and unsuccessfully trying to juggle avocados, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

WATCH:

I must say, I do hope the crop top becomes your signature look in the third season.

[Laughs.] Thanks! I do have to give credit where it’s due, and that was 100 percent Tan France.

When it comes to you, the thirst is real. What is that kind of attention like from the gay community?

I do maintain a certain amount of ignorance to it — and a kind of detachment. There’s been a lot of really amazing and positive attention from the show. But with that, there’s also gonna be haters. If I’m gonna take the good, I have to take the bad, so I’ve decided to take neither.

I just try to focus on what my next move is with this show, with press that we’re working on, living out of hotels for the past couple of months, and hoping that people really enjoy [this season] as much as they did the first.

When you’re living out of hotels, how do you maintain a healthy diet?

I don’t! That’s the honest truth. I’m not one to deny myself the pleasures of, like, a good ripe stinky cheese on a crusty slice of fresh-baked bread in Paris.

Oh, I’ve seen you indulge on the show.

It happens.

You’re not afraid of some macaroni salad.

There ya go! Well, but that wasn’t my recipe.

It wasn’t, but you still ate it.

Oh, I ate it. I’ll try anything twice.

Are you still trying to wrap your head around your overnight fame?

Yeah. I mean, it certainly hits in waves. We were just in London, and when you experience people who’ve been waiting outside of your hotel with magazines to sign, it’s kind of like, “Wow, you’re a human with a life and a job, presumably, who wanted to wait to have a moment.” I’m grateful for it, but it’s not something I want to be too comfortable with. It’s very bizarre and very overwhelming.

What my therapist tells me is, “Don’t trust your feelings right now because you’re constantly basically running on adrenaline — your life right now is pure adrenaline.” It’s been like overdrive, so it’s just, take everything very lightly.

What are your gay fan interactions outside of hotels like?

I feel like I’m pretty good at reading people, but with fans, the energy and the direction of it is very different. So my thing is: Ask them a question about themselves, try to make this a human interaction, and try to normalize it, just to make sure that the person has a nice, meaningful experience and they can leave happy.

[But] sometimes I’m left, like, taking care of people. They’ll come up, and their mouths open and they don’t say anything. I have to kind of take care of them and be like, “Are you OK? It’s fine. Here, do you want a hug? Do you want a photo?”

You don’t just go right in for the hug?

No, I’m a little — yeah, I have more of a European sensibility. We like to kiss twice. Or, I don’t know, healthy boundaries?

Kiss twice, though? Everyone must just enjoy meeting you.

[Laughs.]

How has helping other people on this show changed your approach to your own life?

I’ve had many passions: I studied psychology; I worked as a gallery director; I photographed vintage furniture. And on the acting side of things, that was something that was always very ego[-driven]. I wanted people to look and see and feel my presence, whereas with the show, it actually isn’t that at all. The energy is directed in the other direction, so it’s really us being of service to this person that we’re helping.

We see that happen in the first episode of Season 2, with Mama Tammye

Mama Tammye is an example who spun it on us, and doesn’t even take care of herself and shows up as a teacher and as a member of her church, and for the five of us.

You cried at the end of that episode. Of the Fab Five, who cries the most?

You’re talking to him! When you hear somebody’s struggle, or especially when they’ve overcome something or made a choice like Tammye — there was a lot of pain and a lot of fear and borderline hateful feelings toward gays, and she realized that it was her perspective that was wrong, and she’s a beacon of hope for people.

It’s possible at any age. If you have people like Tammye who were able to figure it out, there’s no excuse for the rest of us.

Even though you’ve been with men and women, you’ve said that you don’t like to call yourself bisexual. Have you found the best way to explain your sexual orientation to people yet?

Not really. And it’s not something I feel too pressured to figure out.

I have very strong opinions about how to cook a filet of salmon so the skin remains crispy and doesn’t stick to the pan, but with a lot of things, I don’t like being the expert. I’d rather go in and be like, “I don’t know.” There’s a power in that for me. It’s sort of like going in with humility and saying, “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

While I don’t think I’m trying to figure out my sexuality, I’m just not as concerned with it anymore. It’s this dynamic process. I’d just rather keep it open and fluid, because that’s how I am with the books that I read, the music that I listen to. All of my interests are always changing, and it’s a constant dynamic process, and so is my sexuality.

Is today June 1?

Today is June 1.

It has me thinking about Pride and what Pride means: the ability to be the truest version of yourself without any negative consequence or fear of being persecuted or judged or criticized or hurt for it. And whatever that is for a person, however you define yourself or don’t define yourself, you should be able to do that with total freedom.

I read that you were a private chef for some high-profile clients.

It was something that kind of happened accidentally, cooking for people. I’m not a classically trained chef, where I’m in a kitchen and I’m doing my own thing; I’m an entertainer, that’s who I am. And I love food, and I love playing with it, and I love preparing it for people. It’s how I show my love.

It wasn’t an everyday thing, where I showed up and made breakfast, lunch, and dinner for someone. I’ve always had, like, 10 different things going on at the same time.

If you could cook for any celebrity, who would it be and what would you cook?

Dead or alive?

They can be dead.

I would take something off of the menu at Voltaire in Paris, and I would prepare it for Oscar Wilde. I would slap my copy of De Profundis in front of him and be like, “We’re gonna talk about this for five hours, and I’m gonna feed your belly, and I’m gonna get you drunk, and you’re just gonna tell me everything and answer all of my questions.”

You’re on a desert island and you have to survive on just one food: What is it?

I love a fresh coconut. You crack it and you have the milk, which is so delicious, but the flesh too. There’s that creamy part on the inside that you can scoop with a spoon, and then there’s the really hard shell part that, if you roast it with sugar, it gets caramelized and really nice and crunchy.

So, I think coconuts. I’d get fed up with them after a week, but I don’t know what food I wouldn’t get fed up about, truly. Ask me again tomorrow.

I’ve never thought about the flesh of a coconut until now, and it sounds weirdly sexy.

[Laughs.] Oh, think about it. Go buy a fresh coconut and think of me.

WATCH:

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/06/28/the-tasty-star-of-netflixs-queer-eye-talks-fluid-sexuality/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/175340031015

[hotspotsmagazine]

The Tasty Star of Netflix’s ‘Queer Eye’ Talks Fluid Sexuality

Antoni Porowski is known for his avocados. But on a recent afternoon he was contemplating the coconut, mapping every sultry detail of the tropical fruit as if it were the body of a new lover: the fleshy inside, the milky nectar.

It’s the first day of June when the Polish-Canadian wine-and-dine expert on Netflix’s Queer Eye reboot rings and, oh right, we’re talking about food. But gay America isn’t hungry: It’s thirsty AF.

And because real lives are being changed thanks to Porowski, designer Bobby Berk, culture advisor Karamo Brown, stylist Tan France, and groomer Jonathan Van Ness, it is also joyfully crying.

Season 2 of Queer Eye — note the dropped qualifier, a nod to the show’s new inclusivity — doesn’t skimp on opportunities for you to feel good about this otherwise not-good world, as the Fab Five imparts their best-life insight and general gay wisdom to a diverse group of clients, including the franchise’s first woman and transgender man.

As Porowski continues to process the experience, and the attendant upswing in gay male thirst and avocado sex puns, the 34-year-old subject of culinary controversy talked critics and why variety truly is the spice of life.

In the new promo video for the show, with Betty Who singing the theme, you’re cradling avocados and wearing a crop top. The avocado dick puns have been out in full force.

I guess I asked for it, right? I’m literally wearing a crop top and unsuccessfully trying to juggle avocados, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

WATCH:

I must say, I do hope the crop top becomes your signature look in the third season.

[Laughs.] Thanks! I do have to give credit where it’s due, and that was 100 percent Tan France.

When it comes to you, the thirst is real. What is that kind of attention like from the gay community?

I do maintain a certain amount of ignorance to it — and a kind of detachment. There’s been a lot of really amazing and positive attention from the show. But with that, there’s also gonna be haters. If I’m gonna take the good, I have to take the bad, so I’ve decided to take neither.

I just try to focus on what my next move is with this show, with press that we’re working on, living out of hotels for the past couple of months, and hoping that people really enjoy [this season] as much as they did the first.

When you’re living out of hotels, how do you maintain a healthy diet?

I don’t! That’s the honest truth. I’m not one to deny myself the pleasures of, like, a good ripe stinky cheese on a crusty slice of fresh-baked bread in Paris.

Oh, I’ve seen you indulge on the show.

It happens.

You’re not afraid of some macaroni salad.

There ya go! Well, but that wasn’t my recipe.

It wasn’t, but you still ate it.

Oh, I ate it. I’ll try anything twice.

Are you still trying to wrap your head around your overnight fame?

Yeah. I mean, it certainly hits in waves. We were just in London, and when you experience people who’ve been waiting outside of your hotel with magazines to sign, it’s kind of like, “Wow, you’re a human with a life and a job, presumably, who wanted to wait to have a moment.” I’m grateful for it, but it’s not something I want to be too comfortable with. It’s very bizarre and very overwhelming.

What my therapist tells me is, “Don’t trust your feelings right now because you’re constantly basically running on adrenaline — your life right now is pure adrenaline.” It’s been like overdrive, so it’s just, take everything very lightly.

What are your gay fan interactions outside of hotels like?

I feel like I’m pretty good at reading people, but with fans, the energy and the direction of it is very different. So my thing is: Ask them a question about themselves, try to make this a human interaction, and try to normalize it, just to make sure that the person has a nice, meaningful experience and they can leave happy.

[But] sometimes I’m left, like, taking care of people. They’ll come up, and their mouths open and they don’t say anything. I have to kind of take care of them and be like, “Are you OK? It’s fine. Here, do you want a hug? Do you want a photo?”

You don’t just go right in for the hug?

No, I’m a little — yeah, I have more of a European sensibility. We like to kiss twice. Or, I don’t know, healthy boundaries?

Kiss twice, though? Everyone must just enjoy meeting you.

[Laughs.]

How has helping other people on this show changed your approach to your own life?

I’ve had many passions: I studied psychology; I worked as a gallery director; I photographed vintage furniture. And on the acting side of things, that was something that was always very ego[-driven]. I wanted people to look and see and feel my presence, whereas with the show, it actually isn’t that at all. The energy is directed in the other direction, so it’s really us being of service to this person that we’re helping.

We see that happen in the first episode of Season 2, with Mama Tammye

Mama Tammye is an example who spun it on us, and doesn’t even take care of herself and shows up as a teacher and as a member of her church, and for the five of us.

You cried at the end of that episode. Of the Fab Five, who cries the most?

You’re talking to him! When you hear somebody’s struggle, or especially when they’ve overcome something or made a choice like Tammye — there was a lot of pain and a lot of fear and borderline hateful feelings toward gays, and she realized that it was her perspective that was wrong, and she’s a beacon of hope for people.

It’s possible at any age. If you have people like Tammye who were able to figure it out, there’s no excuse for the rest of us.

Even though you’ve been with men and women, you’ve said that you don’t like to call yourself bisexual. Have you found the best way to explain your sexual orientation to people yet?

Not really. And it’s not something I feel too pressured to figure out.

I have very strong opinions about how to cook a filet of salmon so the skin remains crispy and doesn’t stick to the pan, but with a lot of things, I don’t like being the expert. I’d rather go in and be like, “I don’t know.” There’s a power in that for me. It’s sort of like going in with humility and saying, “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

While I don’t think I’m trying to figure out my sexuality, I’m just not as concerned with it anymore. It’s this dynamic process. I’d just rather keep it open and fluid, because that’s how I am with the books that I read, the music that I listen to. All of my interests are always changing, and it’s a constant dynamic process, and so is my sexuality.

Is today June 1?

Today is June 1.

It has me thinking about Pride and what Pride means: the ability to be the truest version of yourself without any negative consequence or fear of being persecuted or judged or criticized or hurt for it. And whatever that is for a person, however you define yourself or don’t define yourself, you should be able to do that with total freedom.

I read that you were a private chef for some high-profile clients.

It was something that kind of happened accidentally, cooking for people. I’m not a classically trained chef, where I’m in a kitchen and I’m doing my own thing; I’m an entertainer, that’s who I am. And I love food, and I love playing with it, and I love preparing it for people. It’s how I show my love.

It wasn’t an everyday thing, where I showed up and made breakfast, lunch, and dinner for someone. I’ve always had, like, 10 different things going on at the same time.

If you could cook for any celebrity, who would it be and what would you cook?

Dead or alive?

They can be dead.

I would take something off of the menu at Voltaire in Paris, and I would prepare it for Oscar Wilde. I would slap my copy of De Profundis in front of him and be like, “We’re gonna talk about this for five hours, and I’m gonna feed your belly, and I’m gonna get you drunk, and you’re just gonna tell me everything and answer all of my questions.”

You’re on a desert island and you have to survive on just one food: What is it?

I love a fresh coconut. You crack it and you have the milk, which is so delicious, but the flesh too. There’s that creamy part on the inside that you can scoop with a spoon, and then there’s the really hard shell part that, if you roast it with sugar, it gets caramelized and really nice and crunchy.

So, I think coconuts. I’d get fed up with them after a week, but I don’t know what food I wouldn’t get fed up about, truly. Ask me again tomorrow.

I’ve never thought about the flesh of a coconut until now, and it sounds weirdly sexy.

[Laughs.] Oh, think about it. Go buy a fresh coconut and think of me.

WATCH:

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/06/28/the-tasty-star-of-netflixs-queer-eye-talks-fluid-sexuality/

[lionesslair77]

Self Sufficiency Blog Post #4

I’m am returning to the weekly self sufficiency blog post schedule. This week’s topic is angling/fishing. Not gonna lie, this is one of my favorite topics! I’m a fishing nerd and spend much of my free time chasing tight lines. I could probably write a Harry Potter length novel on this topic, so I’ll try to keep it short haha. This post will cover how to begin fishing, different fishing methods, and various ways to preserve your catch. Of course this will also include a dash of fishing ethics and sustainability practices.  I will be focusing on fresh water fishing, I live in a landlocked state and am only able to fish rivers, lakes, and ponds. For you lucky anglers that live near the ocean you’ll have to seek out a marine fisher friend elsewhere.

If you are interested in learning how to fish, my advice is to find someone you know who already fishes. Of course you can also teach yourself by watching Youtube videos on how to tie various fishing knots, assemble rigs and gear. Read! There are millions of books, blogs, and articles on fishing techniques. You will have to get out in the field to test out what you learn. I utilized both methods to teach myself, learning from others and seeking more on my own. In fact I spent so much time researching and testing methods in the field, my husband now often looks to me for fishing advice.

Before you cast your line in the water make sure you have purchased your state’s fishing license! Just like hunting, all states require you to have a fishing license. The money from purchasing your license is put back into managing your state’s lakes and river systems so that you will be able to continue to fish in your area for generations to come. The fish and game services also stock many of the man made lakes and ponds with catchable fish, so without your license fee this would not be possible. In many states you may need to purchase special permit stamps to fish certain species. The best example of this is in Alaska, you need  King Salmon stamp in order to fish King Salmon. These special permit stamps usually have limited seasons and harvest numbers to maintain healthy populations for that particular fish species. Before you hit the water, make sure you know the seasons dates for your targeted species, as well as the catch/possession limit. The catch/possession limit is set by your state’s fish and game service and dictates how many of each species you are legally allowed to harvest and possess at any given time. Some lakes/rivers may have specialized catch limits, so be sure to pay attention to the regulations every where you go. 

Which methods of fishing should you chose, the great Fly Fishing Vs. Spin Fishing debate?

There are two primary methods of fishing, mainly distinguishable by the type of rod used for each method, fly fishing and spin fishing. Of course there are others, but these are the most common. I believe https://thecatchandthehatch.com/the-difference-between-fly-fishing-and-spin-fishing/ has the absolute best cut and dry differences between fly fishing and spin fishing. There is a great divide among anglers as which methods is the best. Personally I utilize both methods, but for a beginner I would suggest to pick one and stick with it. Try one, and if you don’t like it try the other. Stick with what makes sense to you and what gear you feel most comfortable using.

You don’t have to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on fishing gear. If you are just starting out, there are many spin rods available in the $20-$40 range that come equipped with a reel. Fly fishing is a bit pricier, but you can usually find a beginner set up for around $100. If you don’t want to invest right away in your own gear, ask to borrow. It is also often hard to resist collecting every size and color of lure or fly. To start, focus on what species you plan to target, think about the time of year and what the main prey of that fish may be focusing on. Narrow down your lure/fly selection to match the fish’s most preferred prey. If you don’t want to spend money building a vast collection of lures, you can always go with the tried and true worm and bobber method. All you need are hooks, weights, a few plastic bobbers, and worms. The bobber serves as a floating strike indicator so you know when a fish has hit or is taking your bait. There are a variety of other popular types of bait out there depending again on your target species and time of year.  Bait fishing is probably the most wallet friendly fishing method. Befriend your local baitshop owner/worker! When I was honing my fishing skills, I often asked the owner of a local baitshop to show me how to rig certain bait presentations, or what type of lure/bait I should be using for a particular species. If you are willing to listen and learn they will absolutely help you. Don’t be afraid to ask other fishermen(women) in the field. Many times I’ve been out fly fishing and have been approached by a fellow fisher looking for tips, or vice versa. I’ve learned quite a bit from politely asking what flies a fellow fisher is using, or what type of presentation. As long as you aren’t asking someone to divulge their super secret favorite hot spot, they will almost always help you out.

Don’t let the cold of winter detour you from fishing! The low rivers during the winter/fall offer some challenging fly fishing. Frozen lakes/ponds open up a whole new world of ice fishing! If you get yourself a small ice fishing pole (~$15-$20), some ice jigs, and an auger you are good to go. The auger will be the most expensive investment in ice fishing, if you can borrow one or buddy up with someone that’s a great way to introduce yourself to the sport. I have a hand powered ice auger, that I purchased at a local outdoor goods store for around $45. It usually takes 5-10 minutes to manually drill a hole, but it fit my budget nicely. They do offer gas and electric powered augers, but they will run anywhere from $200 on up. If you want to hit the ice, make sure you follow these safety tips, as ice can be deadly dangerous. Do not venture out on or fish on ice that is less than 3 inches thick. Stop and check the ice if you plan to venture to the middle of a lake. Look for other ice fisherman’s tracks or drilled holes to gauge how far others have ventured. Move slowly and listen to the ice as you gently step across. Never ice fish alone! Always take someone with you, and only walk across the ice single file. If you encounter thin ice, slowly move backwards the way you came a good distance until you can check the thickness of the ice. Some ice fishers chose to wear ice spikes on their boots, or carry safety poles in the event they fall through the ice.

For those seeking to provide yourselves with fish protein, fishing is a great year round method to stock your freezer. You’ll find that different times of year are more productive for different species, which will add a little variety to your freezer stores. I prefer to store my fish whole in vacuum sealed bags. However filleting is preferred by many before vacuum sealing, especially those who are a little squeamish about their food “looking at them”. Smoking is another great way to preserve fish. Smoked trout is a favorite in our house. I usually vacuum seal smoked trout and refrigerate it, and if done properly should be safe to eat for months after the smoking process.

One last tidbit. If you want to get real crazy forager like, almost every state allows those holding a fishing license to catch crayfish aka crawdads. There are some great tutorials online about how to build a crayfish trap, or you can usually buy them at any fishing or outdoor supply store. There is no harvest or catch limit on crayfish in most states, and some encourage you to catch them because they are an invasive species in some areas. Not to mention they are pretty damn tasty! You don’t have to live in Louisiana to have yourself a crawfish boil. It’s the poor man’s lobster! Just make sure you rinse and purge your catch, as well as cook it thoroughly. Crayfish can carry parasites, but as long as they are cooked correctly you will not have any problems.

Good luck and tight lines!