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h0wellslide · 5 months ago

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Phride 2024: a novel (kind of but not really)

I was always a tomboy growing up, and as a kid growing up in the 2000s, this absolutely made me an outsider. It wasn’t horrible, but the gendered branding of “blue is for boys and pink is for girls” (simply put) was really something that was prevalent in this era. That’s something the TikTok nostalgia bait tends to leave out.

I liked this part about myself, but going to public school in those days made me beat it out of myself. All of my friends were super girly, so I tried to become super girly. My best friend in elementary school was my male neighbor, and people accusing us of dating (from the ages of 7-11, mind you) drove us crazy. We never talked about it, but I think we both knew innately that us dating was never an option, even if we were older.

It was around this time too that my female friends started having crushes on boys. Again, that feeling of being an outsider began creeping in, since I wasn’t having crushes on anyone. So like many queer kids who don’t know they’re queer yet, I picked boys at random. It was harmless—these boys never actually knew about my “crushes” on them—but I think it did some damage to my psyche. The need to fit in was intense and long lasting.

Middle school absolutely made that worse. I moved states, and went from a rural environment to a town where middle schoolers would get paid hundreds of dollars for good grades. With this came kids who wore expensive clothing, always had their hair and makeup immaculately done, and in my mind, fit the perfect feminine stereotype.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression at this time at age 12, and my first major depressive episode lasted about a year and a half. I remember distinctly having the thought, “I might be a lesbian, but I don’t have the energy to unpack that right now,” and pushed into the depths of my brain. To this day, nearly 15 years later, I have absolutely no idea what prompted that thought.

I began growing out my hair, which had always been in a bob that hovered somewhere around my chin. I began experimenting with makeup, wearing dresses and skirts, and associating “Kate” with femininity. I mistook the exhilarating feeling of trying a new form of expression as liking it, when in hindsight, I was cosplaying as a shell of myself, as an alternate reality.

This continued into my freshman year of high school. This year was pivotal for me for a variety of reasons, but mainly because I began to more fully explore the idea that I may be queer. I developed a crush on my best friend in 2014, and to compensate, became outwardly more feminine in order to reconcile with the queerness that was begging to come out. The epitome of this for me was dyeing my hair a hot pink—to me, it was the most stereotypically feminine thing I could do.

I struggled with a specific term for my identity. I took a lot of those “are you gay?” quizzes and read a lot of articles about queer women’s experiences, but I didn’t really find a lot that personally resonated with me. What I struggled with specifically was a feeling of apathy in regards to sexual/romantic relationships with men, and a lot of the WLW experiences posted around that time didn’t seem to mention it. I used the word queer for a long time, partially due to my own internalized lesbophobia, but mostly due to not finding a particular label that fit.

Around 2015, something changed. I cut my hair into a pixie cut so I could march in marching band without having to put my bob into a hairnet, and this seemingly small action sparked something with me in terms of both my gender and sexuality. I admitted to myself that I’m a lesbian at the end of this year, and came out to my family during June of 2016.

My gender identity was still a work in progress, as much as I liked to pretend at the time that it wasn’t. I got sucked into the whole “lesbians can be feminine even if they have a pixie cut!” mentality. My expression of this thought went through various phases—including but not limited to the instagram full face makeup around 2017–but by 2019, I was wearing little to no makeup, and had started exploring more masculine fashion.

I began realizing that I have dysphoria, but I had tricked myself into thinking I wasn’t having it because I didn’t specifically want to transition. I love the way masculine clothing looks on me, but I realized that I didn’t like how my chest looked in shirts. The idea that I could be nonbinary didn’t even occur to me at this point. I just kind of went with the discomfort, and while I don’t recommend this for everyone, it did help me become more comfortable with my body. Rather than pushing down the discomfort I was feeling, I just let it sit, which was surprisingly really effective for how I view my body.

I met my current partner in 2019, and she was the first person I had talked to romantically who was actually attracted to my masculinity, and who actually treated me like a regular person because of it. A lot of the people I was talking to on dating apps immediately started fetishizing me, but my partner has never once decided to fetishize my appearance.

I came out to her as nonbinary in late 2019 after we’d been dating a few months, specifically as agender. I genuinely don’t feel like I would’ve been able to come to this realization without her and her unwavering support. She’s been my rock through it all, and I genuinely am so grateful for her presence in my life.

She supports me so much, in fact, that she stayed with me when I decided to grow my hair back out in 2022 (I say this jokingly, but seriously, the bowl cut phase was bad). I’d realized that at some point, my hair had become a crutch for my masculinity. It got to the point where not having a haircut for a while made me start feeling like I wasn’t myself anymore, and I didn’t want my intrinsic identity to be conditional. I also hadn’t had hair longer than a bob since I was about 15, and I only kept long hair for about two years.

And now, during pride month 2024, I am content. Outwardly, I actually look similar to how I did during my early feminine days—I dress more femininely than I normally would day-to day due to my work’s dress code, I have longer hair, and I go by she/her in familial and professional spaces rather than they/she. It’s taken time for me to be comfortable with this, but I made it there in the end. Not only am I comfortable, but I am happy in how I present myself.

So this begs the question—why not come out as nonbinary?

The short answer is: I don’t want to.

The long answer? I’m seriously not bothered. I’m in a place of privilege, as my family would accept me no matter how I identify. I wouldn’t lose my job or my housing if I came out as nonbinary. This immense privilege keeps me comfortable, but it’s something I try to be constantly reminding myself of.

And frankly, the biggest reason why I haven’t come out publicly as nonbinary is that I don’t want to have to explain yet another facet of my identity to everyone I become close to. There is always the fear of coming out as a lesbian to everyone I meet, not knowing if they are accepting. I have to explain my disability to those who become my friends, and explain that there are certain things I will never be able to do, and that there are certain things that I may be able to do depending on the day. This doesn’t seem like a lot on the surface, but it’s neverending and exhausting.

All in all, I couldn’t be more proud of who I am. It’s been a battle—one I fought mostly alone—but it’s a battle that’s been won. I did, after all, make it through this night.

If you are ever questioning part of your identity and feel like I can help, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. Gender and sexuality is confusing, and if my story can help even one person figure out their own, then I’m happy.

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masterwords · 1 year ago

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second chance

Summary: It's time for Hotch to tell Jack about his relationship with Derek. He's understandably concerned that it could go bad, but hopefully nothing some chocolate chip pancakes won't help. (Spoiler Alert: It doesn't go bad. There are some rough patches here but this is a story with a happy ending.)

Words: 7.1k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: past hate crime/violent attack, internalized homophobia (not really intentionally but could be read that way and i'd rather people be aware going in that hotch is Going Through It), anxiety/fear of coming out & rejection, lots of food, alcohol, hospital mention, stitches & scars, grief...he's not nearly as scared of telling jack he's seeing a man as he is about jack being upset that he's dating again after his mom, that's the vibe. there's a lot going on.

Notes: This is my first, but probably not only, submission to @the-guilty-writer CM PRIDE fic challenge using the prompt: Character(s) explains their new, queer relationship to a child. I know this has some dark bits to it but I really wanted Hotch's hesitation to be multi-faceted. I have plans to write another one or two of the prompts throughout the month, and then I'll throw together a PRIDE masterlist. As always, feel free to send me one of the prompts or something off the top of your head as a request. No telling when my silly old brain will find the spark but I assure you every single time I have a chance to write I go through my ask box to see if any of them get my gears turning for the day. Thank you all and HAPPY JUNE!

There is an entire night of Hotch’s early twenties that he doesn’t remember. Sure, parts of it come in brief flashes. He can tell you that he and Jessica had gone to a bar to watch the last game of the World Series after a long day of classes, and that he was wearing a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, not because he was a fan of the team but because as the loser of a pretty intense bet, he had to wear it. The Cubs had the worst record of any Major League Baseball team that season, and many other seasons, and he had to wear it in public...to a sports bar no less...with both pride and shame, as Jessica had said. That part was important. He had to play the part of a real Cubs fan. Neither of them could tell you the contents of the bet anymore, not with any accuracy. The events of the night overshadowed all of the good that had led to it, all of the fun and playful ribbing, and she no longer felt like a winner. If anything, she felt responsible.

It might have been the hat that incited the rage of his attacker, or the way he talked. Maybe the man had seen him at another bar dancing and sharing a joint with his on again off again friend with benefits. Maybe it was his haircut or his shoes. Maybe he blocked the television during a crucial play, or maybe his team lost. (That ended up being his story in court - he'd had too much to drink and his team had lost the Series, he was drunk and lost control.) In any case, whatever it was Hotch would never know. It was completely outside the realm of his control. The thing is, in the moment and the days after, he thought maybe he could have avoided it. He knows better now. This man was always going to do what he did, and Hotch did nothing more to aid in the selection of who became the victim of his rage than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That thought makes him feel un-tethered and chaotic. The randomness of it keeps him awake even still.

Read the rest on AO3!

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #jack hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #fanfiction #happy pride 🌈#hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan

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nerdsandthelike · 1 year ago

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First Lines Meme

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @icannotreadcursive and I wound up doing more than 10, because I think there are some interesting data points outside of my most recent 10!

these inward wars once out of hand (T, Original Work)

Avrin sat on the floor of his cell, waiting.

Poured Out Like Water (T, Jesus Christ Superstar)

Judas never expected to wake up.

The Rumour (G, "The Duel"- Georgette Heyer)

Charlie had not been entirely conscious of the events of the afternoon.

With heart so full I can't explain (T, Leverage)

Things were finally falling into a rhythm with Megan living with them.

A Hell of a Lot of Hope (M, The Old Guard)

Quỳnh was still in shock.

Rubbers and Revolution (T, The Old Guard)

Travis Johnson had his hands more than full as the vice principal of Central High School.

Gender and Sexuality for Immortals: or how not to start fights in gay bars (and other queer spaces) (T, The Old Guard)

Of all the things that Nile had expected to be doing with her new immortality, getting kicked out of a gay bar because three of the world’s four oldest queers had gotten into a fight with a drag queen was not one of them.

people on the edge of the night (M, Stranger Things)

When Will first hears the slur yelled, he ignores it.

Rust On Their Love (T, Stranger Things)

Robin thinks she won’t be able to sleep that night.

Rust In Their Eyes (T, Stranger Things)

Robin is not an optimist.

Nobody Told Us (Cause Nobody Showed Us) (T, Stranger Things)

Robin would not consider herself an expert in social situations.

Them That Hope in His Mercy (G, Tanakh)

When he had still felt young, David had been taken to the palace at Gibeah to play the lyre for King Saul.

A Lot of Space Between Your Ears (T, Good Omens- book)

It was a sunny June day, nearly a year after the end of the world when Crowley returned to his flat from a leisurely afternoon of sitting outside a café with his feet just slightly too far into the pavement.

Nobody Knows It (T, Stranger Things)

It is just Robin’s luck.

Be Ace, Do Crimes (G, Leverage)

“And then Breanna will come in and flirt with him,” Sophie continued.

Practiced at the Art of Deception (T, Leverage)

“Eliot.”

So there's a lot to learn (and feel deeply called out by) here! Clearly I'm a big fan of starting with the feelings of the PoV character. I'm slightly less likely to do that if I'm intentionally mimicking someone else's style, like in the Good Omens fic, where I was very intentionally trying to sound like the book or the Tanakh fic where I saw trying to sound a little more biblical. But the fact that all of my Heart Attack fics (the first three), start in exactly the same way suggests that a short sentence with the PoV character's name and how they're feeling is a pretty strong default start for me. It's what I did consistently when I didn't have time and wasn't editing much. And only Leverage fics get to start with dialogue, I guess!

I was also really interested to see that "Rust On Their Love" started EXACTLY the same way as the others because that's actually a missing scene. that was never intended to be the first sentence of a fic! So maybe this is something about how I start scenes in addition to how I start entire fics.

But more than the actual sentence structure (which I could obviously mix up sometimes), what's interesting to me is that I so often start fics with my characters somehow vulnerable or unsure. A lot of these start with characters confronting something unexpected or feeling out of their depth in some way. Even the ones that start with dialogue, that dialogue is something that is going to shock or unsettle the main character of the fic. And thinking about it, that makes sense to me! Especially from the PoV character, it's a fun way to get the reader inside their head and make them feel relatable. Narratively, it also gives the character room to grow and that insecurity is often what kicks of the plot. So honestly, I may start making my characters vulnerable at the beginning on purpose. Or if I make a different decision, maybe I'll do it more intentionally. What kind of story and what kind of relationship to the PoV character do you get if they start out from a place of power or confidence? That'd be fun to write!

Anyway, lots to think about! I'd love to see anybody who wants to do this, but especially @when-did-this-become-difficult. If anyone does it, please tag me, this was fascinating and I want to see what other patterns are out there!

#i'm having a social experience!#nerds writes #fic writing

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so-true-jestie · 5 months ago

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hello darling jestie, I wish I could give you book recs but the last few months I have almost exclusively been reading so called "spicy" romance books and idk if thats ur vibe. I kept buying a romance book bc of the premise (being queer or disabled romance) and finding out its explicit but overall enjoying the story and buying the rest of the series and now I just have to admit that spring 2024 was an era of nsfw reads for me. Yes, it is so lovely that we have things in common I will go check out ur bookmarks & fics. I havent read any fics for derry girls or awae before & my interaction with the awae fandom has been next to nothing so im very curious what the vibes are like. What aspects of canon the fandom really holds tight. My grandmother IS adorable. Shes also doing quite well for her age; she could beat me in a race any day. She's currently away, I think going north to visit some friends, and she wont be back before the end of the month but should she call I'll tell her my new friend on the internet who likes awae says "big hello". I'm sure she'll appreciate it. And same I would rather chat with her than watch tv but I would also really like to see her reactions to the show, idk how to start a book club with my grandmother that isnt a book and is actually tv. thank you for the safe travel wishes I will keep them in my pocket as I go. I hope today is treating you well <3 love, eating show anon

hello sweets! it's been a while! i hope you've been enjoying your hot girl (amend as you identify) books spring. rarely have i been surprised by a book which goes to show all my books have excellent blurbs, i suppose.

please do let me know which fics you like, i would love to squeal over them with you!!! i am not super well versed in derry girls but for awae, most of the fandom is quite liberal with canon — there is definitely a group who is familiar with the books and such but additions like bash etc. are warmly welcomed. i think college-era awae fics may fare well too. just a gut feel on that.

hope your grandmother is enjoying herself up north! is it cold at this time of the year? i think we are just entering proper spring weather here which is unconscionable really, it's nearly june. i wonder if you or your grandmother have read many of books from the full anne of green gables series? i've read up until rilla of ingleside and they were definitely childhood staples.

have a lovely day anon, till your next secret note x

#eating show anon

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backpackingrealness · 11 months ago

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Dusting the blog off

10 years ago, something-realness seemed fresh. Probably not to the queers who had been using for years before the explosion of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but one of the delights of culture is the false sense of hope that you were the first to discover the hot new turn of phrase – and the humbling moment of realising nothing is new, and everything has been done before.

This blog has gathered Internet dust for nearly a decade, and I’m choosing to blow some of that off entirely for my own gratification. I last wrote a misty-eyed travel diary when I was 24, and I just turned 33. That’s not to say I haven’t holidayed in the meantime, but I certainly hadn’t been back to the heady smells, sights, and sounds of South East Asia.

There’s also something deeply satisfying to someone who has lived over half their existence online to find that I can access an account untouched for 10 years, and pick it up where I left it. Where did those years go? On Tumblr, nothing has changed. Well some things have changed.

On my original big backpacking moment, the story I tell myself now is that there was a choice between 3 weeks in Vietnam, or a week in Japan. We simply did not have the money to do both, and no regrets, for Japan revealed itself to be my favourite country in the world to visit to this very day, and indeed I shall return in the not-too-distant future for more sushi trains, whiskey highballs, and Tokyo DisneySea.

That decision created a mysterious and magical ‘the one that got away’ allure to Vietnam. Living in Australia for the decade since, I am blessed to be exposed to top-shelf, five-star Vietnamese cuisine and coffee whenever I so desire, but how would a bowl of steaming phở taste in the country it hailed whence from, on a rainy Hanoi morning, ideally on the street (but under shelter)?

I first booked a holiday to Vietnam in December 2019, for the following April 2020. I had found some reasonable flights with Cathay Pacific, and my boyfriend’s family were in the middle of three enormous bushfire fronts blazing through the Snowy Mountains. I had a feeling that the coming months would be quite challenging, and a holiday in April would be well-timed. I think I was also eager to plan an escape route.

That trip didn’t go ahead for reasons clear to anyone with a sense of consciousness, and the following years passed.

Cheap flights presented themselves in June 2023. There was some debate on whether we could afford to go after a fabulous summer in the UK, but in the spirit of ‘life is for living’, flights were purchased. The spreadsheet from 2019 was (also) dusted off, and it was a delight to find that a few extra cities could be squeezed in with the extra time we had.

In September, Tom had a stroke. Standing over his bedside next to his sister in the days following, I hissed at his sister how I had been thwarted yet again. Dark humour to hold back the sobbing, but there also truth in jest! In an absolutely thrilling turn of events, and partially due to his youth, Tom’s recovery was lightspeed. Within two weeks, we were home recuperating, with the advice from doctors ringing in our ears – within three months of the accident, the chances of being able to travel overseas would be very positive.

Honestly, say less!

Fast forward to late November, and an apprehensive but giddy self and stroke-victim-spouse are in an Uber to Sydney Airport, with a driver asking if we are heading to Vietnam for all the beautiful ladies.

Next up, Ho Chi Minh City.

#travelling #backpacking #asia #vietnam #australia #pandemic

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suckitsurveys · 1 year ago

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Think back to yesterday, what were you doing around this time? Trying to figure out how to copy and paste a survey with formatting because Tumblr changed shit around again. I was getting so frustrated and ready to just give up on surveys all together. BUT I figured it out this morning so you guys can all relax lol.

What was the last thing you watched on the TV? Queer Eye.

Do you think pets can get annoying easily? Not easily, but they can definitely push my buttons sometimes.

Did you know that pickles have no calories? Sure.

Do you enjoy family get togethers? I do when they don’t involve my brother in law.

In a group of three, do you often feel like the third wheel? Depends on the people.

What color are your pants? Dark blue denim.

Is there snow on the ground where you are? No, it's June.

What is keeping you warm right now? I’m comfortably cold in the AC.

Has anyone bought you a piece of jewelry? Yes..

How far away is your next birthday? Literally 3 months to the day.

Do you have plans for that birthday yet? Not as of yet. I’ve been kinda toying with the idea of just not doing anything. My two best friends live in other cities so I can’t celebrate with them on that day (although they are coming a month before so that’s kinda like an early celebration) and my family (excluding my dad) has disappointed me so much the past couple of years.I’ll of course celebrate with Mark; maybe we’ll go to dinner or something. Maybe my dad has a Cubs game that day. Idk, we’ll see what happens.

When did you last take a shower? A couple nights ago.

Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? No.

Have you ever flown somewhere alone? Yes, I’ve always flown alone actually.

Are you more serious or funny? Funny.

Is there someone that annoys you but you haven’t told them? Oh yessssssssssss.

When is garbage day in your area? Wednesday.

Who/What was the last thing to really irritate you? My brother in law. Just being in his presence irritates me.

Do you think people either love or hate spongebob? I don’t think I’ve ever known someone who straight up hates Spongebob.

Have you seen that new “Lie To Me” show? No.

What is something you’d rather be doing right now? Sleeping.

Do you find that people are too hard on you? Eh.

Do you take surveys often? Yeah. Not nearly as often as I used to, though. It’s also sad cause I feel like that’s true with a lot of the survey community now. I miss our little survey crew on here. <--- I’m still here! It’s just some work days are busier than most and I can’t sneak surveys in. And they are almost impossible to do on my laptop at home lol.

Do you tend to slam things around when you’re mad? Sometimes.

Do you know anyone who hates/dislikes chocolate? Yeah.

Could you vote in this last election? Yeah.

Have you taken a shower today? No.

How much sleep did you get last night? Never enough.

Do you have more girl friends or guy friends? Girl.

What is your current mood? I’m just tired and feeling kinda blah.

Is there anything on your mind at the moment? I mean, almost always?

Are there any movies out that you’d like to see? I would like to see the new Little Mermaid. And Barbie when that comes out!

Have you ever been on a website called Stickam? I think so.

Have you ever hated yourself? Oh yes.

Are you hungry? Yes.

Did your parents ever ground you? Eh.

Where was the last place you went out to eat? Big Star tacos right before the Cubs game last weekend.

Have you ever felt like you needed a better life than the one you have? I mean, sure? I could be living on a beach somewhere that’s always warm.

Do you own an MP3 player of some kind? Not anymore.

Do you have a moment in your life you wish you could replay over again? Sure.

Have you ever been in a play? If so, did you like it? Yes and it was okay.

What is one musical artist you wish wasn’t making music? Anyone who has done anything with an underage child.

When was the last time you cleaned something? I washed my coffee cup out last night.

Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? As a kid.

Do you like your smile? Eh.

Do you have someone that you think truly understands you? For the most part.

When was the last time you doubted yourself? Blah.

Is there anything currently bothering you? Of course there is.

Would you say that you’ve got something ‘special’ about you? Sure.

Who was the last person to cheer you up when you were down? My husband.

Are you scared of what you do not know? Eh.

Is there anything in the next six months that you’re looking forward to? So much. I’m seeing Michael Longfellow this weekend!!! And I am doing SO much in July: fireworks, seeing Le Tigre, seeing Please Don’t Destory, going to the Dells. And then Lollapalooza with Ellen and Sarah to see Billie Eilish and Lana Del Rey!!!!!!!!! And then my birthday and all the holidays and whatnot lol.

Were you/are you popular in high school? No I was not, and that’s perfectly fine with me.

Do you really care what people think about you? I mean I think everyone does to an extent. It goes along with being a member of society. Like if we REALLY did not care what ANYONE thought of us, we’d just be wild.

Do you find yourself treating others like you’d want to be treated? Yeah, for the most part.

Are you constantly envious of others? Eh.

Are you more of a whiner with things or a do’er of things? Both hahaha.

List three of your favorite TV shows: BoJack Horseman, 30 Rock, Bob’s Burgers. But the list can go on and on.

Would your friends say you’re a relaxed person or stressed? Stressed ahahahahaha.

What do you find yourself worrying most about these days? My health.

Would you say it’s hard to earn your trust? Not usually.

Who was the last person to compliment you? A coworker.

Anything interesting happen this past week? Define interesting.

When was the last time you felt scared? Blah.

What’s on your mind this very second? I’m sleepy.

Do you know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’? Yes.

Do you correct other people’s grammar/spelling when talking to them online? Not really.

Is bacon one of your favorite foods? No. I enjoy it but not that much.

Are you one of those people who like to sleep in on the weekends? I sleep in whenever my body allows it.

Do you like things Vampire related? Eh. I Like Marceline the Vampire Queen.

Have you ever cussed at a parent or teacher? Yeah.

When was the last time you saw snow? April probably.

Have you ever felt stupid after saying something? Uh, yes. Only all the time.

Do you find yourself cold at the moment? I’m cold but happy.

Are your nails currently long? They are various lengths right now.

Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past? Nah.

Do you have long slender fingers or short chunky ones? They are short and chunky lol.

Do you think your foot size fits your body type? Whatever.

Are you the competitive type? I like fun, friendly competition.

Are you more of a mommy’s person or a daddy’s person? I hate the way this question reads.

#surveys

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lunarvalleysbetterplanet · 2 years ago

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Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Winter is my favorite time of year, despite living in Florida where it barely even drops below 60 degrees. I've always found all the lights and the music very comforting. My favorite Christmas movie (Elf) and hot cider with twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Family dinners with kids running around. Sitting around a bonfire laughing with friends and drinking wine. Even Christmas eve service added to that sense of holiday joy. Singing Christmas carols and holding a candle. It wasn't necessarily the religious aspect that gave me joy, but more the community of it.

I spent from the time I was around 8 years old until 18 heavily involved in church. Then, it was much sporadic. I'd go through religious phases that would last a few months before I'd give up and return to my actual self. In July of last year, I fell into one of those spirals and for some reason, it was much worse than usual. It lasted an entire year for starters. I joined a reformed Christian church, got re-baptized (for the first time as an adult, third overall) and just fully jumped into living the most pious, devout lifestyle I could. It took a full blown mental breakdown to snap me out of it.

Christmas during this time last year was easier than ever. I was more palatable and tolerable for most of my family. I was forcing myself to agree with whatever the Bible said, including what it says about women. I spent a lot of effort trying to force myself into the ideal version of a woman. Softer, gentler, less passionate and less sarcastic. I tried carving out all of my queerness. I lost everything that makes me lovely. I was reading the Bible for literally hours and hours a day. I wouldn't listen to "secular music" and I basically stopped engaging any media that wasn't Bible approved. I went to small group, bible studies and ladies events. I served in Children's ministry. I was busier and more social than I've been in years.

And I was numb. I was disassociated because I didn't want to face that I was depressed and miserable. I gained a lot of weight. I nearly ruined the relationships with my sister and best friend who were watching me turn into a person I would have hated. But god, Christmas was easy. No arguments over politics or me being too much. My family was overjoyed to see me back in church.

Fast forward to June of this year. I have my first of three mental breakdowns. Things had not been good since like January. I was struggling and taking that as a sign I was being #theverybestchristian because the Bible says we are supposed to suffer for Christ afterall. I struggled and struggled. Cried constantly. Prayed till I was blue in the face. Upped my daily Bible reading. Until I had one second where I was sitting in my house and I looked around and said audibly to myself "What the fuck have I done? Who am I?"

And after that mental breakdown, I tried to plod on. I'd done irreparable damage to my ability to pretend I was happy or that things were okay. July I have another minor breakdown. Then August I have the big one. I am nearly unfunctional in my mental breakdown. It's triggered by me googling about spiritual drought. I start to google why I would be having these religious phases. I know it's over now. I come across a tweet and it rocks my entire world.

It had literally never crossed my mind that others go through this. I realize I do have a ton of religious trauma. I text my therapist and start going regularly again. I deconstruct, fully and actually work through why I was so afraid of hell. Why I believe what I believe. I deconvert. I realize I will no longer be a Christian. Not even a backslidden 'I'm not dealing with this but I'll come home later' one. I won't have the crutch of prayer.

Now, I am clearly dealing with some shit. My depression is raging. My house is a disaster. I've pulled away from my family because I know how they are going to take this. (They do not take it well)

I am not okay. I am working on healing. But, for once in my fucking life and I am letting myself actually work through all my trauma. I skipped Thanksgiving. Sat alone and got high. Ordered Chinese and cried, a lot. I won't miss Christmas because I love it. I have always loved it. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker though. The soul aching loneliness that I am dealing with both from the loss of religion and the fact that I am alone. I have very few friends, no romantic prospects and being with my family is so complicated. I am so lonely it hurts physically in my chest. I find myself crying quite frequently. I am leaning into this.

I put on my 'Make the Yuletide Gay' playlist and make hot chocolate. I read holiday themed fan fiction and cry. I will go look at lights, the only single person amongst my family. I'll put up my sad little artificial tree and watch Elf with my cat. I am getting better. I won't lose the genuine love I have for this time of year.

#tw for religious trauma #tw for depression #//personal//

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fa-by · 3 years ago

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Hi Faby I have a question L said that she knew she was queer when she fell in love with her best friend when she was 15 and that her and L started to have a physical connection when she was 15 and I know everyone says that she was talking about C because L met C for the first time when she was still 15 but to me that doesn't make sense because L and C only started to get closer after L turned 16 and her and C basically just met so how could she be talking about C?

Hi to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 I know it doesn’t seem to make sense because the narrative’s goal is to confuse you and get you on their side by making you abandon the ship. You have to pay attention to the details and what they say because there are always flaws in the stories that our Camren are forced to tell. But don’t worry, I’m here. I’ve already talked about it many times, but I’ll explain it again to make you understand better and answer your ask at the same time.

So. During Becky G’s ‘En La Sala’ podcast (October 28, 2020), Lauren said she realized she was queer because she fell in love with her best friend when she was 15 and they started having a physical relationship. She forced herself to think that kissing and sleeping with her friend every once in a while was just a funny thing and nothing important; something that she has ‘normalized’ in her head by justifying it as something that ‘straight girls do’, and therefore fueling her internalized homophobia. Personally speaking, I believe in this. Not in the ‘she fell in love’ part because Laur’s still forced to say that the only girl she has ever loved is Lucy, but I believe Lauren and Lucy really did everything L said. Lucy was the first real unlock thanks to which Laur experienced the attraction and the feelings towards the girls she’d always felt and hidden deep inside herself. I firmly believe that Lucy was the first girl among her crushes on girls Laur acted on, and with whom she experimented in secret given the environment in which they both grew up and which still surrounded them at the time.

Now, the time frame in which this experimentation happened. Paul Martinez, the one she believed was her first love and whom she believed she would marry, broke up with her in late July 2011, and she only managed to move on when she wrote a song about how she felt on September 17th of that same year. Lucy moved back to Puerto Rico in February 2012, returning to visit Miami occasionally (that’s why the fetus pictures with Lucy and Camren at Laur’s house). Therefore, the time frame in which that experimentation happened, is from the end of September 2011 to February 2012. It could’ve happened in all those four months, or only in two, or only in one. Who knows. But that’s the time frame. Time frame during which Laur was 15 years old.

Having explained this, let’s move on. Camren first met during the first phase of the audition, the ‘cattle call’, on May 1, 2012, in Greensboro, North Carolina. You know? Where that short and really cute conversation started by Mila happened: “Hi, I like your shirt”, “Thanks. I like your jacket”. But it ended up there because they didn’t become friends from that day. They didn’t exchange phone numbers and they therefore didn’t even spend time together at home in Miami. They were still just two strangers who had auditioned for a TV show to pursue their dreams like so many other people. Oh and, on May 1, 2012, Laur was still 15, and Mila had turned since almost two months; therefore they were both 15 years old. The moment they became friends by no longer detaching one from the hip of the other, was two months later, on July 25 in Miami, when they met for the first time for the first day of boot camp (L went to C: “You’re the Cuban girl!”). On July 25, 2012, Lauren had by then turned 16 for nearly a month, and Camila was still 15.

Now let’s move on to the biggest miscalculated mistake that, either they made her say, or Laur herself said; perhaps even deliberately and not by mistake. On June 26, 2020, and therefore before the podcast with Becky, the PAPER Magazine article was released. In that article, Lauren explained, along with other things, that she’d been in love with her best friend for seven years. But the calculations don’t add up, for two things to be exact.

First thing: The Laucy narrative includes that A) Laur fell in love with her sure, Jan at 15 when they kissed and hooked up during parties.

P.S. Is it just me, or does this smell like what actually started happening to Camren the following year? I mean, the Like Friends Do situation whereby Laur got out of her internalized homophobia and realized she loved her and then got her head out of her ass by finally going to get her girl? No? Just me?

B) The wanting but not being able to be with her and giving her what she wanted made them grew apart not by her choice and not because Lucy returned to live in Puerto Rico and they simply grew apart for the distance and Lauren’s busy schedule with 5H, no, no.

P.S. I don’t know about you, but this still smells like Camren’s story to me.

C) Lucy returned to her life after she had a car accident on May 17, 2015:

“She came back into my life when I was 18. I was on tour and I was in my room in a hotel somewhere and she called me”. From that moment on, Lauren decided they would’ve been together “all in” and “now we’re gonna be in this relationship”. Yeah, sure. No contract that was supposed to help both of them involved here. No, no.

D) They broke up because Laur confirmed that theirs was a very toxic relationship, and the specific reason she gave was because they both weren’t fully healed from the past yet, but that they still loved each other very much. Mmmh-hmm, okay 🥱😴 Yeah, no, yeah, sorry. I fell asleep as a result of hearing bullshit.

Second thing: Ty.

Shall we reveal the miscalculation (again)? In love with her at 15, got together with her at 18 and broke up at 20 (1 year and 8 months, from mid-May 2015 to mid-January 2017), and after less than a month, start of another PR dating Ty. Now, 20 minus 15 (Laur’s two ages from the beginning to the end of the ‘story’), how much is it? 5. Shall we calculate from the moment of Laucy experiment to when they ‘broke up’? From late September 2011 to mid January 2017, how many years are? 5! 5 years and four months to be exact. According to the logic of the narrative, if she was oh so in love with Ty as they made her proclaim every two seconds, it means that she’d stopped loving Lucy that same year, and it’s not 7 years anyway! It’s still 5! Do we want to try with two last calculations? Okay. Also because you may have wondered: “Faby, what if we instead calculated from when ‘they got together’ to the release of that PAPER Magazine article?”. I’d answer that it’s still 5 years. From mid-May 2015 to June 25, 2020, it’s 5 years and 1 month to be exact. “Faby, what if we tried to calculate from the beginning to the publication of the article?” From the end of September 2011 (beginning of the time frame of the Laucy experimentation) to the publication of the article on 25 June 2020, it’s 8 years and 9 months to be precise. Not even in this case it’s 7! So, as you can see… And at this point I wonder: is there an alternate world where math calculations lead to 7 and not 5 here? What was that? Why say 7? Well.. I actually know why.

Shall we play another little math game? Can I reveal the truth in the lie? Let’s try to make sense of this 7 together now.

Lauren explained that she’d been in love with her best friend for 7 years in that interview, right? The interview with PAPER Magazine came out on June 26, 2020, but was done before the date it was released. We all know Laur was born on the 27th, and therefore in both cases, Laur was 23. And tell me, dear, how much is 23 minus 7? Sorry, I can’t hear your answer. A little louder please? Got it, got it. Can I also write it for everyone else who’s reading? Okay, thanks: 16. Wait, 16??? So who was Lauren actually talking about? Ohhh. How foolish of me. That’s why it ‘smelled like what actually started happening to Camren the following year’ to me. Because Laur was talking about Camila all along 🤦🏻‍♀️

🤣😏😎

Sarcasm and jokes aside, do you see how easy it is to manipulate and confuse people's ideas? It's still 7 years if we calculate from mid-January 2013 (after the first real New Year's kiss and the signing of the contracts with Syco/Epic) to the release of that PAPER Magazine article on June 25, 2020. And it's still 7 years even if we calculate from July 25, 2012 (first day of boot camp) to June 25, 2020. Camila is the answer to the 7 years because even if they try to make Laur modify the narrative by making her change the names with the PRs' ones, she's always talking about Mila anyway in reality.

Does it make more sense now, dear? I hope I’ve taken away all your doubts 🥰 Stay safe and have a good day 🤗 You guys too ❤

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radmista · 2 years ago

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Random updates 1/?

Long semi-vent/talking outloud about relationships with TRA's

So I have a gf now. Sort of my first gf in a way, I dated a tif and nb tif before briefly. And while I know they were female, since this was more in my "be more accepting" phase, I kinda did see the tif as a guy even though our relationship was 1000% one I wouldn't have had with a male. I kinda processed it like "trans guys are just better bfs".

Having a GF is nice, she was one of my bestfriends and she asked me out the last day of June which was really sweet. I'm normally kind of hesitant to relationships, I feel I've never really gotten the supposed correct burst of excitement that comes with "making things official". I always feel kinda bland about it, like I'm a gf now woo... now what? I kind of chalk it up to being raised to be incredibly independent and not needing romantic relationships, if I were to die without a romantic partner I guess I wouldn't be too bothered as long as I had a good life. And also bc with my friends I form very close relationships that from the outside can be seen as romantic, so the shift to being an item isn't really anything drastic imo? The only addition really is kissing and other activities, and I guess I soften up around my partners, like I afford them more patience and lenience than I would if they were just my friend (I'll bite my tongue more on their behalf and not be as critical).

I'm pretty sure I love her, I care about her deeply and she makes me happy, I feel I can be mostly myself (minus the GC stuff) without judgement, I like holding her and kissing her, we can have good conversations and have differing opinions in debates and stay respectful, and I enjoy being in her prescence most of the time.

I say mostly bc like... she's kind of emotionally unstable sometimes. Technically she has an unspecified mood disorder, but she says she probably has BPD or at least says she related most to people with BPD. And that since the beginning of our friendship has been a flag of sorts. Not that I wouldn't date her for it, its just... a flag? Nearly everyone I've had a relationship with thats had BPD ended in a flaming pile of chaos and was rather traumatic. She doesn't split (permanently at least) from my observations of her other friendships and how she talks about people who've previously burned her so thats not a big worry. But she does get a rather big victim complex about some things and will jump to a "well I guess its all my fault"/"just blame [her name] for everything" and its frustrating. She's not a bad person, just a lot to handle at times.

Her emotional and mental issues aren't really a big beef, she at least acknowledges she has a problem and is trying to get back into therapy so cool. My main hangup is she's pretty big into the TRA koolaid. I didn't think it was that bad when we first started dating, I thought at most she believed in binary and nb trans people the basic stuff. But 2 weeks ago she mentioned having "bigender" and "genderfluid" ocs and it somehow managed to torpedoe any good mood I had that day and I got really quiet and gave her a "cool." response and continued cooking. And last week while discussing womens solidarity and how we need to have class awareness and making claims like "abortion doesn't affect rich women" or "abortion doesn't affect white women" only serve to distract and create divides meant to turn women against each other so we don't think we can work together. She got really defensive saying abortion affects poor people more (which yeah ik it does that's not what I said) before spewing what felt like an automated "the abortion ban affects everyone! Women, men, trans men, nb people, genderfluid people, intersex people, queer people!". And it nearly made me blow my top. I didn't argue her mentioning all the tq+ stuff but when continuing to make my point I made sure to keep saying "females" or "women". Since we're both in the med field she thankfully doesn't object to the term female being used (and even uses it herself sometimes).

Its just frustrating. She's so stubborn so I know changing her mind will be astronomically difficult. Her views on gender ideology and TQ+ shit was one of the main reasons /I/ didn't ask her out even though I found her attractive and saw potential in a relationship. She's also relatively "new" to being bisexual, she says she only realized she was bi when she was 21 (she's 23 now) and also claims to be demisexual (despite having more sex than me or heck even our other friends). So she's still sort of in her "vomitting rainbows" phase which can be a little cringe ngl. I knew I was attracted to women at 14 in catholic school, and have always just seen it as part of me, nothing special needing any fanfare. And I get thats just a difference in personality, but she's very much like those fandom people who always have to show off "how gay" they are on everything. I'm not doubtful she is bi and has attraction to women, she says she's had woman crushes and is attracted to me afterall.

I've tried approaching the demi thing before we even started dating, talking about the rise of hookup culture and male centered media that paints an unrealistic picture of attraction and sexual activity, how women develop sexual urges later than men tend to, the rise in use of SSRI's dampening or killing libido, and how wanting to be close to others before wanting to bang them is 100% NORMAL for women and a lot of people. Its just painted as the abnormal by media thats hypersexual. Even tried pulling out the "why isn't hypersexual a sexuality then?" before putting it away bc she kept expressing disgust at people that are hypersexual. I thought I had at least given her something to think about, but when her parents visited she had asked them to buy her a demisexual flag and now I gotta see it everytime I visit her.

I guess at the end of the day its not a HUGE issue since I'm also not very sexual, but it does make me uncomfortable sometimes wondering what internalized homophobia rhetoric she can be harboring as tumblr ace/demi people are usually pretty homophobic. She comes off sort of better than thou because she's not always horny, and looks down on people who are and calls them disgusting and that they should "keep it in [their] pants its not hard!" also saying shit like "sex isn't even that great an experience, its can be such a chore sometimes. You know what feels amazing: adding something to your shopping cart, so much serotonin, or cuddling on the couch yassss". Which I roll my eyes at bc I'm not a shopping addict and have heard the stupid "just cuddle" shit ad nauseum from asexual tumblr and past friends.

I know that sounds like a lot of bad stuff but idk, I feel like these are all things that she can shift her opinion on. She is younger than me and I didn't really fully jump on board radfem stuff until I was almost 24. Even though I was always skepticle of the trans movement from when I was 15, I did buy into their shit every once in awhile and tried to be supportive as a transmed until I was 23 when gloves finally came off and I couldn't keep believing the lies they told or ignoring the horrible erosion of womens rights. She lives in this very ignorant TRA bubble and hasn't seen any negative sides to the trans community or how their enforcement of sterotypes is wrong and misogynistic. I think partially bc (as typical fandom bi) she finds feminine men, men with long hair, and men in heels and skirts hot. She probably has a crossdressing fetish only through fiction, bc I doubt she'd find a real 6ft tall 0 fat distribution male with giant feet hot in high heeled shoes and an unflattering dress that fits him poorly.

I think if I just keep being vocal about womens rights and the rampant misogyny in society maybe things will start clicking in place for her. I just don't know how to make the transition (hah) to mentioning how trans and gender rhetoric also plays into this and is actually super regressive and making shit worse for women. I want her to realize how bs this all is, how its abusive to gnc gay and lesbian kids/teens and been a huge step backward for women. I just don't know how I'll get there without setting off alarm bells that I'm an evil "terf" and she "blocks to stay safe" herself from me. I've actually broached the "single sex only spaces" issue with her and her other friend in the room, and while her friend (gay male) opposed it and said it was transphobic (bc of course he did his safety isn't at stake) she said she can kinda see both sides. Which I think is a good thing, if she can at least see my point without branding it as an evil terven thought crime. So I feel like there's hope, but it'll prob be a real uphill journey esp if she continues to keep company with alphabet soup people on discord and fandom.

#vent #my gf #relationship stuff #sorry its so long #I haven't had anyone to talk to about any of this stuff #idk if I'm asking for advice or not. I know it sounds bad on paper a lot of the issues I mentioned but she is a good person #i think she's just misguided and just doing what she's been told is the politically correct woke things to believe #I guess I want advice on how to steer her away from tra logic circles and open her eyes more or less #ugh ik that sounds weird & controlling but I think of it like trying to get a SO to realize the religion they're in is toxic & bad for them #which like... considering how cult like the trans movement is #I find it an appropriate anaology

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does.

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge.

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on.

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good.

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried.

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection.

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted.

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says.

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished.

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first.

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs.

He’s pissed at himself.

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips.

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.”

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.”

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right.

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.”

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else.

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues.

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks.

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?”

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans.

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes.

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you.

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God.

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it.

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today.

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

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arse-crack-thistle · 4 years ago

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quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

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Essays in Existentialism: Troublemaker (Before)

Previously on Troublemaker

“See! You’re having a good time!”

The music pulsated through the streets, and Lexa didn’t care that her sister was gloating because she really was having a good time despite all intentions otherwise. The sun was bright and glaring without a cloud in the sky, and downtown was brimming with all colors, alive and vibrant, celebrating. And she as swept up in it, proud and overflowing with the music and freedom of being completely herself and being completely unknown in the crowd.

It’d been a hard fought battle for her to agree to come with her sister to Pride, but she didn’t have anything else to do, and because of Anya’s need to be an overachiever, something they both ascribed to genetics, she was going to be doing an internship and leaving soon enough, thus cutting their summer together incredibly short. The guilt and her sister’s incessant need to prove a point brought them downtown for the day, and Lexa was almost okay with it.

“I knew you would like it,” Anya gloated, dancing around with her sister in the pulsating group of bodies at the concert in the park.

“Is it always like this?”

A gaggle of scantily-clad men moved through in nothing but speedos and suspenders, and Lexa let one of them grab her and twirl her around. The entire day, she’d been absolutely adored and adoring of everyone around her. An inundation of love and support was enough to make her unsure of how to go back to real life.

Her sister watched as Lexa danced, hands up, smiling wide and overjoyed. She enjoyed the fact that her sister came out to her and she could actually do something about it. Though straight, Anya spent her first two years of college taking a crash course in gay when her random roommate was a very out and very proud girl who liked to use Anya as a wngman. She was incredibly helpful in coming up with things to help Lexa feel normal and supported, and Anya was going ot be the best big sister possible. She was that type A.

“Pride is always like this,” Anya promised. “And you get to be super gay anytime you want. Isn’t that great?”

“You’re worse than mom and dad. They’re like oddly proud to have a gay kid.”

“Nah, just because you’re you.”

“Shut up,” Lexa rolled her eyes and moved, wiggling around, goofy and carefree.

For the entire day, the sisters moved through the crowds, checking out vendors, eating delicious food, listening to speakers, and got decked out in glowing necklaces and rainbows painted on their faces. It was exhausting to be so gay, but Lexa finally understood what she’d been missing in her fear of joining the GSA, and her fear of being out at school. She hadn’t thought about how wonderful it would be to not have to worry about hiding, or at least, not actively living.

“Thank you,” Lexa offered, as the pair stood on the side of the road for the parade. She hugged her sister as the sun began to set between the tall buildings. “This has been the best day of my life.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” she smiled and danced around, her sister not used to such a carefree girl in front of her. “I’m just super gay-- Oops, I’m so sorr--”

Lexa stopped moving after bumping into someone behind her, not paying attention and living her life too widely and too queerly for such a confined area. She gaped and stared at the body she bumped into, more mortified than she’d been in her entire life.

The body came attached to a pretty face. A familiar face. A face with bright blue eyes, and a mischievous grin and a messy bunch of wavy blonde hair. A face that had a tongue ring. A face that was attached to the girl who protested the Sadie Hawkins dance, the pep rally, and last year single handedly turned the swimming pool pink for women’s history month.This was the same face that Lexa couldn’t help but stare at anytime she walked by in the halls at school. This was the face that didn’t even know she existed.

Clarke Griffin stared back in equal parts amazement at the girl who did the bumping. In all of her wildest dreams, she never imagined Lexa Woods, class president, Academic Decathlon team captain, Student of the Quarter, perfect attendance-winning, overall adorable nerd, would be standing next to her at Pride. And not just standing-- dancing, covered in rainbows, and smiling in something other than a primly put together button up shirt with a schedule strapped to her chest.

“Clarke,” Lexa gulped, unable to say anything else, unable to hide her fear and confusion. “I-I-I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was just… um… ”

“It’s okay. Kind of close quarters and you were just being super queer,” she returned gracefully as she eyed the entire being of Lexa on summer break. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone here. I thought everyone left for summer.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m always recruiting people for my zine. Intersectional politics and good music with a queer tint. Honestly, it’s whatever anyone submits. We set up a tiny booth,” Clarke explained, rambling slightly. “And I’m kind of gay.”

“Kind of?”

This was incredibly new and important news to Lexa, even if she didn’t know what to do with it.The entire school knew that Clarke ran with the same crowd, a crowd Lexa didn’t know anything about other than idle gossip. And it always looked like she was very close to Bellamy Blake. Romantically close.

“Bi.”

“You have to go?”

“No-- no… I’m bisexual.”

Lexa felt her face burn and she wanted to melt into a puddle, right there in the early June evening. Maybe disappear into the sewer and wash away into the sea for the rest of time. But she didn’t. Instead, she just stood there, in front of the biggest badass tough guy hot girl she’s ever seen in her entire life.

It was the longest they’d ever spoken, and she’d ruined it in under three minutes after learning that Clarke was gay-ish.

“That’s cool,” she finally managed, earning a small smile.

Clarke pushed some hair away from her face and scratched her neck, using the pause to look at Lexa’s legs. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t try too much.

“Is this your first Pride?”

“Is it that obvious?” Lexa sighed, bashful at her display.

“No, you look cute. I like the festiveness.”

That didn’t help anything at all. Lexa looked around for her sister who made herself busy talking to other people and not at all available to bail her out of saying anymore words.

“I’m gay,” Lexa finally blurted after a prolongued moment of silence.

“That’s cool.”

“Thanks.”

A shout reached them over the noise of the parade, and both looked in that direction.

“I have to um,” Clarke looked over her shoulder at the group that was calling her name. “I have to go catch up with my friends.”

“Right, yeah, definitely.”

“It was good to see you, Woods,” she grinned as she backed away. “I hope I get to bump into you again.”

“Right, yeah! Me, uh. Me too,” Lexa nodded.

With another wave, Clarke was gone, swept up by her friends as they moved through the crowd. Lexa caught the look that Clarke gave her over her shoulder and she smiled because she got a look back. It might not have meant anything, but it still felt kind of good.

“Your first Pride, and you’re getting chatted up by a grade A hottie. I’m impressed,” her sister slung her arm over her shoulder.

“That was just a girl from school.”

“She was not what I pictured for your type.”

“I don’t-- I don’t have a type,” Lexa furrowed.

“Everyone does. It just so happens that yours seems to be punk baddies with probable daddy issues.”

“There’s no way you could know--”

“She was digging you too, by the way.”

“There’s no-- I don’t-- She wouldn’t-- That was-- No,” Lexa shook her head.

“Trust me. I’ve seen gay relief, and that girl was gay relieved you were gay.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Don’t be mad because i have my ear to the ground in the gay community,” Anya shook her head. “I’ll have you know that Kaitlyn said I’d make a great lesbian.”

“Please let me die right here.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The library on Fourth Street was nearly always empty around the end of lunch time. It seemed to empty out come the hottest part of the day with the normal crowd of parents and kids looking to stay busy during the long summer hours came in for story time and craft projects.

With no particular impetus to move quickly, Lexa pushed her cart of returns through the aisles and rearranged any messy or disorganized stacks she found. But her head wasn’t particularly in it.

Instead, Lexa thought about Pride, and replayed the entire interaction with a certain mild degenerate who had a pretty smile, who called her cute, she realized, halfway through overanalyzing it again for the hundredth time. All she could wonder was if this is what having a crush felt? And if so, was it possible to have crush after just three minutes? Nothing really prepared her for this. How could it? He didn’t have time for a crush. She only had to focus and get into the school she wanted. And then she could be who she thought she might want to be.

“Hey Woods.”

Lexa stopped as she turned to the next aisle, only to find the exact subject of her internal debate. There was a book tucked into her elbow as she retracted an arm reached out to grab something on a top shelf. Lexa looked to her bare arms, and then to her hips where a flannel was tied, and only subtly hiding her short shorts and some of the long legs and Lexa was gay.

“I know it’s a library, but I’m sure you can talk a little bit,” Clarke smiled.

Sunglasses tucked and holding her hair up out of her face, the girl had a motorcycle helmet tucked into the same elbow as the book.

“Hey,” Lexa managed.

“You work here?”

“Yeah, just doing some little things, stacking, kids story time and stuff.”

“Sounds fun,” Clarke nodded. She leaned against the shelf behind her and watched Lexa push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. This was the Lexa she was used to seeing, and it did nothing to make her less interested, which was insanely weird.

“Here for anything good?”

“Uh, just some of the summer reading for Lit. And I’m kind of interested in a few SAT practice books. I took it already, but there’s one more that I can take before applications are due, and I’d like to see if I can do a little better.”

It certainly wasn’t the reason Lexa expected, but she should have known better to expect anything from someone she really didn’t know other than through stories of stories of stories from other people.

“Sounds like you have a busy summer planned.”

Clarke laughed and ducked her head and Lexa tried not to be entranced by the action.

“Have to keep busy between the protests and debauchery.”

“Right, same.”

“Everyone kind of left for the summer, it seems. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Lexa agreed. “I miss my friends, but I’ve gotten a lot of things done.”

“I’m sure you’re already done with the summer homework.”

“No… well, just most of it.”

“We’re two weeks into summer break, Woods,” Clarke pretended to admonish. Lexa shrugged, slightly guilty. “We’re going to have to find something to keep you busy.”

“I think work will take care of that.”

“You’re forgetting that I saw you at Pride. I know that you know how to have fun,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows slightly. “And I know that you find me absolutely irresistible and cute.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“So you admit it then?”

“What? No,” Lexa shook her head and pushed her cart down the row, looking for the place to put the next in her pile.

But Clarke wasn’t ready to leave, and she hung around, pushing off of the shelf only to follow Lexa and hover closer than Lexa could almost handle.

“You checked me out at Pride.”

“I did not.”

“You did. I saw it. And you let me know you were interested in girls. If you didn’t know yet, I’m a girl, so the math seems to be adding up.”

“Correlation does not imply causation,” Lexa responded quickly. “Your logic is not at all close to sound.”

“So you don’t like me?”

“I don’t even know you. If anything, I just find your face and,” Lexa moved her hand in Clarke’s direction, “that, all, pleasing.”

“Good to know.”

“Who even walks around telling people that they find them attractive. It’s maddening to have that much confidence.”

Lexa jammed the book into the shelf as Clarke leaned beside her, grinning that grin that meant she was amused. That was also maddening. All of it suddenly was maddening, and Lexa missed the quiet of her shelves and wished she could go back in time and not let herself go to Pride. Then she wouldn’t have to see Clarke Griffin.

“I like to have a healthy opinion of myself.” Lexa snorted. “And you should have one of yourself. Want to know a secret?”

It was the smile that did it. And the eyes. But Lexa looked at Clarke and softened somewhat. It was due to the proximity, she told herself. Nothing else that she could control.

“Sure.”

“I didn’t really need these books,” Clarke offered. “I mean, I could have just ordered them online like a normal person. And I live closer to the Redwood Branch.”

“Then why’d you come here?”

“Hard to imagine you’re the valedictorian,” she chuckled. “I came to see you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I saw you at Pride and was intrigued. Thought I might feel it out a little bit.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why not, Woods?” Clarke sighed. “I’ve got nothing but time and… well, I didn’t know you were into girls.”

“How can you be so just… How can you just say what you’re thinking?”

“Lots of practice,” she smiled.

“I could never imagine just… just… just…” Lexa waved her hands around slightly as she tried to explain what she couldn’t. “I couldn’t just do that. What if it went badly?”

“Is it going badly?”

“No, but-- wait. Maybe. What I mean is…” It didn’t help that Clarke was leaning closer and Lexa was stuck in the stacks with a girl that was flirting with her and she’d never had that before and it was way better than she could have ever imagined. “Wouldn’t ou have been embarrassed if I just ignored you or something?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” Clarke nodded. “But my dad used to tell me to do one thing every day that scared me. Figured I’d get it done before dinnertime today.”

She was charming and honest and refreshing and unlike anyone Lexa had ever met. It was a whirlwind.

“I have to finish this before my shift ends,” she tore her eyes away from Clarke’s and looked back at her cart.

“Right, yeah, definitely,” Clarke agreed.

“I should do that.”

“I should go check these out.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around this summer.”

“Yeah,” Clarke grinned. “Maybe.”

Lexa stood there as Clarke turned back toward reception.

“Clarke-- I um,” Lexa watched as she turned around. “I’ve never flirted… with anyone, really.”

“That is surprising news.”

She could tell from her tone that it wasn’t news, and Lexa pursed her lips and set her jaw. She stood a little straighter, steeling herself.

“I hope I see you around.”

“We do seem to keep running into each other.”

With a final smile, Clarke winked and disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXX

Standing outside of the house on the corner, Clarke looked at the perfectly trimmed hedges and the flag that hung by the door. The lawn was manicured and neat, the house was beautiful, lit up and glowing with life inside in the waning light. It was in the suburbs and insanely suburban. A tire swing hung from a giant oak. A basketball hoop hung over the garage.

For the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure how she ended up here, except that she made herself stand awkwardly in front of Lexa Wood’s house. Three years ago, she met Lexa as a freshman, and instantly had a crush on the girl who argued with her in history class. But Clarke also decided to avoid having a crush on the cute girl who pushed up her glasses and tried very hard to be absolutely perfect.

She still kind of always had a crush, despite her refusal to admit it. For the past three years, Clarke tried to make Lexa smile from time to time. She’d do something stuipd and make sure Lexa was watching.

But Pride was one of the few times in the past year they’d spoken. And Clarke was certain that now was her chance, so she took it. And after the library, she spent every day for a week and a half showing up at the library. She brought Lexa lunch a few times, followed her around the stacks, chatting and fully developing a crush. It was easy to do. Lexa was funny, and serious, and witty, and quiet, and smart, like ridiculously smart, and she wasn’t afraid of Clarke, or intimidated. She debated her with vigor, had opinions, had plans, and more importantly, had dreams.

Clarke knew why she was standing on Lexa’s front porch, and she knew why she was slightly nervous to knock, she just hated someone being able to do that, in equal parts as much as she craved it.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was good before she knocked.

“Hey,” Lexa greeted her, smiling and pushing up her glasses as she does her best to not look winded from running to the door.

“Hey,” Clarke sighs, matching her grin, forgetting all of the thoughts of before. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks. I, uh, you too. I like the black eye in particular.”

“Oh, this?” she motioned toward the eye that had a little bruising. “Just, um. Bopped myself in the face while working out.”

“What were you doing? Boxing?”

“Krav Maga. My partner got a little overzealous.”

“Goodness.”

“I’ll try to be extra charming to make up for my disfigurement. I hope your gentle eyes can make it past my horrible appearance.”

“I’ll do my best to look past it.”

“Good,” Clarke smiled and handed over a helmet. “Are you ready for the first date?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They walked toward the motorcycle sitting near the curb. Clarke pressed her palm to the flat of Lexa’s back. She handed over a helmet and Lexa looked at it curiously.

“For your protection. Have you ever ridden on anything like this before?”

“I’ve driven go karts.”

“Not the same thing,” Clarke chuckled. “Here, I’ll help.”

The helmet eclipsed her, but Lexa tilted it upwards so that Clarke’s skilled fingers could tighten the strap beneath it. She lifted the visor and watched Clarke work.

“I feel like a badass.”

“You are.”

“Do I look the part?” Lexa asked, smiling slightly as Clarke hopped on the motorcycle and put on her own helmet.

“Very much,” she promised, flipping down both of their visors. “Hold on tight.”

The date wasn’t anything fancy, but Clarke was hoping it was enough. They drove to the park, with Lexa’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and she took the long way, nice and slow, just for that reason.

The park was busy, fully of people ready to enjoy the evening and a movie. Clarke unloaded a blanket and her backpack full of snacks, fully prepared to show off her dateable skills. From what she knew about Lexa, she assumed it was her first first date, and she was going to set the bar extremely high.

Before the movie started, they talked about nothing in particular, and Clarke was careful to get in a little teasing, which Lexa returned, smiling the entire time, challenging her. During the movie, Clarke let Lexa lay her head on her lap, and shivered because she gave her the only sweatshirt she had.

Even after it ended, they remained, hanging out in the twilight and talking, hovering, close and unsure and happy. Later into the night, after another trip back to Lexa’s, Clarke bashfully stood on the porch and earned a hug and completely bungled the kiss, unable to read Lexa and unable to make herself that brave.

“Did you have a good time?” Clarke ventured, leaning against the railing.

“I really did. Thank you.”

“Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good.”

“Great,” Clarke grinned.

“Great.”

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost like a game at this point, for Lexa to stumble upon Clarke somewhere in the library during her shift. Rarely was it in the same place twice, and rarely was it when she was expecting it, though she found herself always looking forward to the smile and girl that sometimes brought her snacks.

For the first month of summer break, Lexa didn’t even realize she’d spent most of it talking to or spending time with Clarke Griffin. It just kind of happened, and she found herself getting attached. She found herself flirting, or so she thought. She definitely found herself flirted with, which was still so wonderful.

Clarke wasn’t what she’d thought. She was insanely frustrating and still too hot for her own good, and smarter than she wanted anyone to know, while at the same time being absolutely addicted to her moral code and her’s alone.

In a month, Lexa learned that Clarke was not in a gang, despite everyone thinking it was a gang, but rather had a close knit group of friends that occasionally contributed to shenanigans of a disruptive nature. She learned that she was a hell of an artist, sketching things here and there, and when they ventured out on a hike or spent time lounging around, showed her sketchbook very timidly. She learned that Clarke’s father died three years ago, and that was where she disappeared to freshman year. She learned that Clarke liked to work on her motorcycle herself instead of taking to a shop because she wanted to feel closer to her father. Lexa spent an entire afternoon learning parts of the bike and helping with an oil change.

For an entire month, Clarke pushed Lexa. She pushed her to go on dates. She pushed her to jump off of the old bridge foundation at the river when they went swimming. She pushed her to watch a few movies she wasn’t sure of. She pushed her to egg street signs for the first time ever.

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for a book about a cute librarian who has a crush on a girl named Clarke. Know where I can find that?”

Lexa smiled despite herself as she turned the corner in one of the farther aisles in the library’s second floor.

“I was just thinking about you.”

“All good things I hope.”

“More or less.”

That seemed like good enough for Clarke who returned Lexa’s smile. The two stood there, close in the tight aisle, but used to the proximity.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come over tonight. We could watch a movie and you could read my essay and give a million edit suggestions. I’ll even let you use your red pen.”

“It shows up better.”

“Yeah yeah,” Clarke humored her.

“I’ll be over after dinner then.”

“Good.”

“Were you leaving already?” Lexa furrowed as Clarke shoulder her backpack and shifted instead of getting comfortable or even grabbing some of the books to help her put back on the shelves.

“I have to see a guy about a thing.”

“Just a drive by today, and no snack?”

“Like I would ever leave you wanting,” Clarke tsk’d as she dug in her bag and pulled out Lexa’s favorite assortment of gummy bears. “I know what you like, Woods.”

“You’re spoiling me. I’ll have to start working out more often or I’ll be too slow for track.”

“You’re fit. I mean, you’re--”

“Perv.”

“Sometimes,” Clarke shrugged.

Lexa held her bag of snacks in her hand and smiled at them softly. She saw Clarke’s shoes nearly touching her own, and when she looked up, she realized how close they truly were. But she didn’t move. She just stood there and tried to figure out what Clarke’s eyes were saying, because they were furrowed until they weren’t, and then there was a peace there, a decisive calm.

Lexa felt a hand on her shirt, grasping it near her heartbeat. Clarke paused before she did it, waiting for Lexa to pull away, asking for permission. Only when she got it, did she lean forward and kiss Lexa enough to take her breath away. The only thing Lexa could hear was the blood thumping in her ears, but she ignored it and kissed Clarke back eagerly.

“Thanks, Woods,” Clarke murmured after a few seconds. “I needed that.”

“Yeah, no, yeah.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Right, later, mhm,” Lexa nodded and ran her thumb along her bottom lip as Clarke moved, leaving her rooted and blushing.

“If you liked that, we could do it more often,” Clarke offered as she walked backward out of the shelves.

“Sounds very good to me.”

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