#there are bigots banging down my doors

[blinxbat]

Ppl really out here saying "personally I would never agree with bi lesbians/neopronouns/therians but she leaked the no fly list so stop harassing her" like they have to say "don't worry guys I'm still bigoted even if I'm not joining in on the harassment I'm still one of the good ones guys i promise"

Also even if it still uses she/her pronouns so it's not technically misgendering, the people who straight up refuse to use it/its for it are so telling on themselves.

[transmascsteveharrington]

Sometimes Eddie can't believe that they've made it. He'll look at Steve, like right now across the lawn, watches him teaching little Emma how to put sausages and burgers on the grill, and Eddie still can't believe it.

For the longest time as a teen Eddie was convinced he would end up in the 27 Club. Trying to escape the reality of his meager life expectancy as a queer freak trailer trash kid in a small town in bumfuck Indiana by glamorizing going out with a sex, rock'n'roll, and drugs fuelled bang before the age of 30. He never thought it would be an angry mob of jocks and a thunderstorm of bloodhungry demobats that would almost take him out before the age of 20.

Eddie only managed to step away from death's door thanks to the miracle that is Steve Harrington. And he truly is a miracle. Not just because he carried Eddie's half-dead body out of the upside down and nursed him back to health. Not just because he helped get Eddie's name cleared and his charges dropped. No, everything about Steve felt like a goddamn miracle. The way he smiled, his bitchy but entertaining little jabs, the taste of his chicken noodle soup, the way he would comfort everyone who needed it. But the most miraculous thing to Eddie had been that Steve had chosen him. Had fallen in love with him. Had stayed with him.

Still feels like a miracle every morning when Eddie wakes up in Steve's arms both of their bodies aching. As if he could tell what Eddie is thinking Steve looks up from the grill and finds Eddie's eyes. He gives Eddie that private little smile, the smile that means, "you too are my miracle." Because Steve feels the exact same.

It took a couple more months and for Eddie and Steve to leave the god-forsaken small town of Hawkins behind for Eddie to believe that he might make it past 27. They moved to Indy first and then later to Chicago. Shabby apartments became home and strangers became friends, confidants, people that turned out to be just like Steve and Eddie and Robin. And then some of those friends started dying. Eddie kinda lost count of how many funerals they went to during those years. Is thankful every day that they made it, is thankful for all the friends that did make it.

He watches some of them across the lawn or on the porch, chatting, carrying potato salad, laughing and lifting up their kids or even grandkids. Eddie watches them all and takes in the miracle that is grey hair and wrinkles, looks at Steve and loves how the nickname "The Hair" doesn't quite apply anymore, curses the pain in his own back and kinda sees it a little bit as a blessing at the same time. As a reminder that they have made it. As a reminder that they get to have this, that despite supernatural powers and bigoted people they got to have this.

They got to grow older and will continue to grow older. They got to get married (three times: once in Amsterdam, once in Massachusetts and once last year in their backyard renewing their vows, celebrating gay marriage being legalized). Two arms warp around Eddie from behind and a soft kiss is pressed into his cheek.

"Hi dad," Allison, their eldest, says and let's go of him.

"Hey honey," Eddie says and pulls her into a proper hug, holding her tight.

She moved to West Coast for college, near where Will and Mike are located now, so Eddie and Steve don't get to see her all that much, as opposed to George who just moved to Detroit. It's nice, means Eddie and Steve get to see little Emma relatively often. As if on cue Emma turns around and looks from Steve to Eddie and Allison.

"Aunt Allie," she yells and runs across the yard to hug her aunt, leaving Steve all alone at the grill.

While Emma and Allison hug, Eddie makes his way over to Steve. Thinks once more how lucky they are that they got to adopt two beautiful kids, now have a grandkid too. Fucking miracle. Eddie reaches Steve and sneaks his arms around him, chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Oh hello," Steve says and turns his head enough to steal a quick peck. "What are you doing here?"

"Missed you," Eddie mumbles and buries his face in Steve's neck, nose brushing against Steve's scar.

"Sap," Steve says, but then adds, "Missed you too, baby."

Eddie closes his eyes and just drifts. Takes in the smell of Steve and bbq, hears children laughing and friends talking, feels Steve's warm body pressed against his. With the lives they have led, the places they came from the odds have never been in their favor. But somehow, by pure luck, miracle, determination and stubbornness they made it. And Eddie is thankful for it every day. Thankful for Steve, and Allision and George, and little Emma and everyone else part of their little miracle.

They've made it. Eddie still sometimes can't believe it.

[4townie]

Road to 4☆TOWN

part 60 | part 61 | part 62 | part 63 | part 64 | part 65 | part 66

“I’m really proud of you, Jesse.” Selina smiled at him as he made the guest bed. “You’re spending more time with your brothers, you’re not weirdly secretive about your home life with your friends, you’ve stopped drinking your coffee black. You’ve grown so much.”

“Yeah well,” Jesse stood up proudly, “dad life has changed me. I’m a man now.”

“Awwww.” Selina cooed. “A man who can’t legally drink, but okay.”

“Oh c’mon, Lina, it’s only a few more weeks.” Jesse groaned.

Selina giggled and sat beside him. “I know, I know. You are just too fun to tease.” She sighed and looked down at Marcel in her arms. “I love this little guy so much, but I can’t wait for your birthday so we can finally have a date night just you and me.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jesse leaned over and kissed Selina’s cheek.

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“No, no, I’ll get it.” Jesse said when he noticed Selina start to get up. “You’re still feeding him anyway. I’ll be right back.” He left the guest room and headed to the apartment door. As soon as he opened it, he rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“What a way to greet your mother.” Giovanna raised an eyebrow. “May I come in?”

“No.” Jesse blocked the doorway. “Whatever you wanna say, make it quick. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Fine. Ungrateful brat.” Giovanna muttered the last bit under her breath. “I found this in Sean’s bag. Care to explain?” She held up a cell phone.

Jesse furrowed his brow. “What were you doing going through his stuff?”

“You know your brother. He can’t be trusted.” Giovanna rolled her eyes. “If he’s anything like you, he might even have a secret slut on the side.”

“Mom, I swear—”

“Answer my question. You know I don’t allow the boys to have phones.” Giovanna crossed her arms.

“But why though? What’s the point?” Jesse asked. “How much longer do you think you can control them?”

“It’s not controlling, it’s protecting. You think I want them going out behind my back and doing things that could get them in trouble?” Giovanna raised her voice.

Jesse sighed. “Keeping them away from me and not giving them a phone isn’t “protecting” them. They’ll go behind your back anyway. Then what’s your big plan?”

“I’m not the one keeping them away from you.” Giovanna laughed condescendingly. “You do that all on your own. Hiding away in this…this—”

“Babe, you’ve been gone for a while. Is everything o—…” Selina froze when she saw Giovanna. “Oh.”

“Is this why you wouldn’t let me in?” Giovanna looked at Selina with disdain. “Afraid I’ll make your baby mama uncomfortable?”

“Well, when you continuously make disgusting, bigoted comments about my girlfriend, I’m gonna wanna keep you away from her and my son.” Jesse nodded with an irritated grin.

“And how exactly do you plan on hiding this little accident from the public?” Giovanna said smugly. “You know the tabloids would tear you apart if they knew about this. You don’t really think you can keep this a secret forever do you?”

“Stop calling my son a mistake! What kind of a mother are you?” Jesse frowned at his mother.

“A better one than she’ll ever be.” Giovanna looked Selina up and down. “Not that I want anything to do with her or that filthy child.”

Jesse glared at her, his blood boiling. “Get out.”

“Don’t you kick me out when I’m t—”

“Get the hell away from my family and don’t ever come back.” He shut the door in her face.

“Jesse, open this door! I’m not done with you yet!” Giovanna banged on the door.

“She’s out of her mind if she thinks I’m gonna listen to her after all that.” Jesse let out a heavy sigh. “I’m getting so tired of her bullshit.” He gently caressed Selina’s face. “I’m sorry about Giovanna. I just hate the way she treats you.”

“You know I don’t care about anything she says to me. She doesn’t even know me.” Selina shook her head. “Are you okay though?”

Jesse smiled softly and leaned in to kiss her. “With you? Always.”

[weaversweek]

"This is the life" and "Bring me to life"

"Life's what you make it" is too old for the #FearOfMu21c project, where we're crowdsourcing the greatest singles of the 21st century. Everything already Talk Talked about is in an index post.

This is the life - Amy MacDonald

"I saw Pete Doherty's first gig in Glasgow after he left Libertines. It was a great night - he did a little acoustic thing at the aftershow party too, and we got into that. Then me and my pals went back to someone's house and just sat, passing the guitar round, singing songs. It was a brilliant night. The next morning I wrote 'This Is The Life' about it, cause I realized, this is the life."

Title track to the 2007 debut album, Amy MacDonald arrived as though she'd been around forever. Girl, guitar, and memories of going clubbing till the wee small hours and the fear of missing out. Number 1 in Austria, Belgium, Czechia, and Netherlands; number 28 on blighty, because .uk record buyers preferred the album. Amy's continued to write, and record, and tour.

Bring me to life - Evanescence

A goth-metal band with Christian roots, the public view was mostly of singer Amy Lee. And of her physical attributes, not her vocal abilities: on this single, Amy belts out the lyric, shifting from soprano to alto in a single phrase. There's a rap break in the middle, though a mix was released without the rap. And there's a concept video, featuring Amy in her nightie.

All of this meant the single would get a reception. The reason it stayed four weeks at number one? It's a bit different, and it's a massive lot of good. There's a tune, there's something in the lyric, it's danceable, it's not the chugging dance beat of every other record of this moment. This song's success wasn't divine intervention. And thereby hangs a tale...

Evanescence got their start on the Christian Music scene. They were big beasts, playing songs of faith to the faithful. And then: bang! they slammed that door shut. And it's all the fault of the bigots in the Christian music scene.

You might think the British indie scene is harsh, that the NME would build up its heroes then knock them down, then kick them. Christian Music is like that, but harsher, because the critics pretend to know what The God Organisation is thinking. In reality, the critics fall into the trap of idolatory: they expect human beings to be infallible and perfect. Worse, they'll call flaws in other people before accepting the mote in their own eye.

The Christian Music scene is narrow and often bigoted. It's a place where divorce ends careers, where anything that might stop white women from producing white babies is terrible. It's a place where the haters revel in their hatred, where the performers are not permitted to sin. It's cloying and confining. Frankly, Evanescence were best out of it.

None of this changed the parent album: Fallen explored faith and its absence. However much the band denied it, this was a religious album, drawing from Amy Lee and Ben Moody's upbringing. The band turned their back on Christan Music, but didn't repudiate their upbringing. The lyrics draw from Christian imagery, and a particular view of the world. Questions about the afterlife, a search for salvation, fretting that everything is meaningless. They may not be a Christian Music band, but their music is Christian.

Recently released: the 2002 demo version, which is similar to - but not the same as - the version we all heard the following summer.

[wakaruumo]

on artfight drama

first of all, gee, who would've expect it. truly something nobody seen it coming. paint me rendered speechless. /s

you know it's almost like trying so hard to grow a forum game into some sort of yearly phenomenon, trying to monetize it, making a shitty "all ages" space with shady rules, while also keeping everything very fucking america-centric would lead to such an explosion

the thing of growing it into a huge internet event would not be bad on its own, but even after all those years the site is still relying on volunteers despite taking donations. wtf.

monetization of it also wouldn't be bad if it wasn't for the fact the staff isn't getting paid (besides the CEO of shitshow aka takaia + the banner artist "axel"), the costs are unclear as fuck and there's no transparency at all.

an "all ages" space isn't gonna fucking work if you're not hiring enough mods and fairly executing the rules. the guidelines on NSFW content are so vague and the site didn't even bother to shield kids off the it it's crazy.

making everything US centered for the sake of "convenience" leads to further dumb rules and unclear statements that's censoring what type of art can be posted for no reason (boo nips are so scary!!)

i've had plenty of ideological beef with artfight but that's not really relevant.

but.

i've also wondered why the fuck do we need to suffer through plethora of site crashes and an army of bugs if the donations flow like crazy? (especially when it comes to banner features) where does the money go??

i've wondered, why the hell are reports not taken care of properly unless you literally bang on a mod's door to snipe down an actual bigot? turns out they were so overflown with tickets and nobody to take care of the system they couldnt do shit. that is NOT to defend mods as a whole, some of yall suck big time. especially with how you handles spy's case or the permission issue on discord.

also just saying takaia even daring to take money for herself when she's doing fuck all nothing with the site and most people dont even know who the fuck is that... lame as fuck. same with those who defend her like she's an innocent babygirl who just happened to make an oopsie woopsie. get a grip kids.

my take is that probably artfight will crumble and it won't happen next year (or at least as we know it). taking away any sight of financial statements for the public was a grave mistake. but once you realize how deep that shit goes (none of the staff except takaia having the access to funds)... yea it gets worse.

i left artfight over the staff being petty and the overall userbase having to be babied all the time, but god did i lowkey know something malicious is gonna brew

[nityarawal]

7/21/2023

King Isha's Birthday xo

Morning Songs

Just A Scribe 

For Mommies

Who Don't Lie

Just A Hoover

For England

We Need A Scribe

For The Globes A Prize

And It's Demise

Is Detrimental

To You And Me

We Got Lawyered

The King Caught

With His Pants Down

But Why Should Ukraine 

#FreeBritney Or I

Tehrangeles 

My Loves

Pay For These Idiots

Downfall

Laughing Stocks

Officers

Banging On Bathroom

Doors

For A Peek

Suffering

Broken Ankles

One More

Scaredy Cat

Chubby Cops

You Got Your Weapons

On Your Ankles

But You Got No 

Pride

For Civilians

Tribes

You Broke Our Vows

With Cambridge Spies

You Broke Our Laws

With Domestic Bribes

You Broke Our Laws

With Fake Scandals

On A Britney Economy

We Say "No Wars

No More"

You Broke Our Laws

Real Estate Bribes

Probate Insurance

Federal Banking 

Fraud

You Broke Our Laws

Big Brother Lied

From PNC Bank

To BBVA

You Broke Our Laws

At Airbnbs

Dirty Waters

Bugs

Ticks

Militia Slum-lorders

Got Me

You Broke The Law

Breeders

You Labeled Us

And Attacked

Our Families

Gay Bigots

Not Just Breeders 

Not Just Birthers

Lovers; Water Mammas

Brought You Into

The World

They Might Say

I'm Pretty

Not Believe Me

Glowing Skin

When I Suffered

Gave Birth 40 Hours

To You

Thai Sages

Buddha Babies

On Full Moons

To New Shiva Moon

Slivers Of Light

They Might Not

Believe Me

Say I'm No Mamma

They Might Drug Me

And Pull EncinitasBeachHome.com

Off The Market

Terminators

Hacked Off The Internet

They Might Be Terminating

Deleting My Best Articles

Coding

Down -

An Enlightenment Editor

No Relief 

With A Mid-Atlantic 

Accent From North 

Carolina Enlightenment  To

Relief In New Hampshire And

Hawaii Maharishi Magazines

They Might Say I'm

A "Nobody" - "Nitya- Who?"

Where'd Your Brains Go?

'Metropolitan' State Hospital Drugs

Got Best Of You

Night You Were Roofied

By God Only Knows What Miscellaneous Drugs

Pouring Black From Veins

Night You Were Beat

Frontal Cortex opened

Thank The Lord

Day You Testified 

To The Dozen Rapes

Calls From Big Brother

"Listen To The Cops

Do What They Say,"

My Nanny Brother

Advised

"Don't Be Spoiled

Don't Act Up

Don't Be A Target

For Their Victim Stuff,"

Toilette Like Brushes

Scouring Up Our Noses 

Every Week

Covid 19 Disciplines

No Dr's To Speak Of

Caged In A Gym

Walking In Circles

Restless Leg Syndrome

For 18 Months

Would've Liked

To Watch You Lady Gaga

One Last Time

With Tony Bennett

But We Were All Tired

Patients

Like Zombies

Asleep by 7pm

Hard To Smile

Laugh

Dance

From Forced Court Drugs

Walking In Circles

Restless Leg Syndrome

Our Po Has Seen

Far Too Many

Covid State Showers

Maimed 6 Months

A Jail Guard

Walking With A Cane

Not Good Karma

My Loves

To Work With Brokers

Of Mammas Caged

Not Good Karma

My Little Brothers

Camp Eternal Love

Will Retrain Your

Pirates

Vows

Drunken Ships

Imaginations Heal

For Parents

With "Mommy Juice"

Jungle Gardens

You're Safe

Children Camp

In Camp Suites With Us

Moroccan Tent Villages

Persian Carpets

Camp California

One Last July

Of Last 12 Year

Rain

Before Radio Stations

Ration Our

Showers

With Communist Ads

Police 

Recruitment

And DJs Guilt Message

To Cut

Our Water Orgasms 

Down

From Their Draught

Cops Blocked

Beef Eating Cannibals

Say Thankyou

Grascious Madres

Say Thankyou

Grascious Padres

Even If It's Only

For A Name

Say Thankyou

We Stand By Our

Kings

Pahlavis

Moezzis

Qajars

Isha Kyan June

Huntley Rawal

We Stand By Our Persian

Kings

Loyal Sisters

Emancipating

For Big Brothers

New Tehrangeles

Half Persians

Royal Matriarchal

Army With

Princess Meghan

And King Harry

Until Little

Lisbhet Knows What

To Do

Little Loyal Sisters

Watching

Always Muses

Pure Hearted

Anjali

Thankyou

Gracias Sisters

Camp Bros

Aunties

Uncles

Madres

Padres

For What 

You Do.

(PS Song)

Might Be A Walrus 

Might Be A Scarab

Might Be A Pink Glow

Worm

Residual

From Paul McCartney's 

Birthday

Don't Jump On Me

Like A Cougar

Might Be A Knight

Not A Granite

Spotted Rock Tree Frog

Might Be Britney

Divine

Not A B

Or A B***

But 

A $$$ Billionaire!!!

Peace & Namaste,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[jesusatmysix2-allgodspennies]

Why do these ignorant demons keep f'in with me?

Yesterday I went out, and had a good day out. I came back in, Satan's sister (and I could hear the demon a minute after I opened my door) was waiting. Jumps up and runs in, guess their kitchen area.

Remember me posting that the little boy would come in and chop sh** up, and leave. So, chopping is what their anal disposition does when they/It (whatever the chosen pronoun is) hears me in the kitchen. Is it being done on purpose? When it happens every damn time I make a noise.... Welllah!? And when it doesn't last but a minute, and it gets quiet...... Welllah!?

So today, being tired from yesterday..... I laid here listening to my music, the satanist bang and make noise. Let me state this. At night, I turn my radio down to 15, which isn't high. In the day time I turn it to about 18. Unless it's on "Bluetooth", which plays really low. And I'm usually cleaning or cooking.... or showering to go out. Bluetooth, it's usually at 23.

So anyway, I'm chilling this afternoon. Never turned my radio up from 15. Listening to this bitch. She leaves and slams the door. Comes back about an hour or so later. Brat running back and forth. They kill using their illegitimate snots to fight with. That's real low life sh**. Expected from racist cowards. Never touched my radio. I'm painting at this point. So at about 1845, I'm hungry. Get up. Put my radio on 18. Usual day volume. Oh, this cunt losing it. The brat, her stumping and banging, and when I went into the kitchen. Chop, chop, chop! Which lasted about minute!

So my Bluetooth kicked in. Oh, they started playing rugby. Okay, from 23 to 25 until I finished cooking. I started preaching and singing with my congratulations about Jesus.

If I sat down here listening to Mexican music. Wouldn't none of these racist demons have sh** to say. This garbage would be down here:

Novia ¿puedo pedir prestado un poco de azùcar? B***h, no!

This she devil was schooled by the A feminine tart little boy.

How, let me vent:

This bigoted/racist anti black country has brainwashed Mexicans that they're so family oriented, and such hard workers.

IT'S BULLSHIT!

The reality is, they have to economically pile up twenty in a household. Because they have to take sh** jobs that black people refuse to do after hundreds of years sweeping gutters, cleaning nasty dirty homes, scrubbing toilets, stocking shelves, and packing groceries. Mexicans are just as lazy as every damn body else.

Mexicans, Blacks, Whites, and every body else's parents come here to do better. Problem is, they've brought their damn family with them. Some of you parents who run from the hood with your kids in tow, should call back home so somebody can tell you how the neighborhood got better after your kids left. Yeah, yeah, we all know. Your sweet kids can do no wrong.

Valley history: in a nutshell. They shut down HUD, to keep out low income. White flight! Neighborhoods trashed. Same sh** mfr's claimed they were fleeing from.

Mexicans started moving into the valley. Drive-bys! All that unity! F***'in gangs! Graffiti! MLK Jr. Parades made national news due to racist ass mean kids stating fights. Oh, that was the past! Really!? Past breeds the present! Especially if the mentality hasn't changed. It's just become covert. During COVID and the Trump hour. Mfr's we're gearing up bc Satan's bastards were mumbling a civil war. Mexicans emptied Walmart of ammunition, pellet and bb guns and rifles. Cleaned the shelves. Little Mexican kids bought up box cutters and matting knives from Home Depot bc they weren't old enough to purchase them from Walmart. Y'all mfr's were Trump supporters with your asses laid up in the laps of white racism's accolades. That being a known fact. Who the f*** were y'all going to battle against!?

Then the white taggers stated signing off. The natives were walking around looking for somebody to share their bottle with. Niggas were walking around talking, "I'm from....????" Hell, we're all from somewhere.

But the murmurings got niggas scared. They starting humming new negro spirituals.... "We wit y'all.... just call.... uuum spare our life. uuum. To prove it, we'll even screw yo wife... uuum uuummmm. We'll help you close the damn borders.... uuuumm. To prove it, we'll screw every one of your daughters..... uuummmm, uuuumm."

STOP PLAYING WITH ME!

Fentanyl! Where's it coming from! White boys were happy as a pig in sh** with their meth. Niggas living on the streets were collecting signatures to legalize weed. No F'in body yet, has put out a petition for housing!

NOT ONE!

But, the same assholes have no problem with filling up these free shelters, while there are still seniors and veterans still sleep on the streets.

Everybody that was here ten fifteen years can see the insanity happening today. To them: SILENCE IS AN ACTION.

I said it once, I reiterate: "I can't make me unsee, unhear, or unknow what I've experienced.

This manipulative demon over my over me had a "she won't conform to my racist deity" tantrum.

So you know what:

GO THE FUCK BACK TO SLEEP!

AND DON'T SLEEP ON MY GRASS!

[sorrowingsoldier]

a lil snippet of my, titled He’s in My Heart & Eyes aka Ramon Diaz Finds Out Eddie’s Dating Buck fic that I’m writing simply bc Buddie fic needs to have more nuance. aka, you can be a shitty parent and not be homophobic:

“Edmundo,” Ramon raises an eyebrow, “are you going to invite me in?”

Eddie briefly considers saying no. He thinks about asking his father to meet him at a nearby café, or at Pepa’s. The desire’s not out of shame or fear for his new-found bisexuality and relationship with Buck. He’s not ashamed of being with a man, of being with Buck, he loves Buck more than his heart will allow. He’s not afraid either, his parents may be devout Roman Catholics, but they’re not bigots. There’s just a worry in the back of his mind that if his dad comes in and they get into a fight, it’ll taint any good thing in this house, it’ll ruin all his work with Frank. 

Eddie rolls back his shoulders, clearing his throat, “Yeah. Come in, it’s hot out there.” He locks eyes with Buck as he steps away from the door, his gut filling with guilt at the panic Buck is trying and failing to mask.  

Ramon steps through the threshold, smiling at Eddie, completely unaware of the two different bubbling panic attack and silent conversations happening, “Oh,” Ramon says, surprised at Buck’s 6’2 frame standing in front of the credenza, “Evan, it is nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Diaz,” Buck pulls him in for a hug, reminding Eddie that he forgot to do that, “when did you get in?”

“Yesterday morning,” Ramon answers, stepping away from Buck and the physical affection. 

Eddie shuts the door, the weight of it banging against the frame. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as his dad takes in Buck and Eddie’s matching state of disarray, of all the signs that this is also Buck’s home scattered around the living room. He doesn’t know what he did wrong or who cursed him to have this be the way his father realizes that Buck is a little more than Chris’ legal guardian on paper.

Buck claps his hands together, all too aware of Eddie’s every emotion, “I’m going to make some coffee. How do you take yours Mr. Diaz?”

When Buck gets nervous or anxious not only does he need to do something with his hands, but he also needs to do something for someone. Eddie’s grateful that it’s making coffee, because Lord knows his shaking hands wouldn’t be able to manage a single cup.

Ramon eyes Buck, dubious, “Black with some sugar.”

“We have Nescafé, Folgers, and some other fancy ones. Do you have a preference?”

“Nescafé.” Ramon answers, pleased with their coffee options.

Buck nods, looking over at Eddie like he’s willing to stick around and hold things down if he needs, before heading toward the kitchen. 

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

[flowercrown-bard]

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - part 1/ 5

This is a gift for the most amazing @ban-aard <3

pairing: Geraskier

summary: When some bigoted man insists that Geralt can’t feel love, Jaskier blurts out that they are married - which they very much aren’t. So naturally, Geralt and Jaskier have to pretend to be husbands to convince people that Geralt is lovable, though no one doubts that more than Geralt himself.

word count:~3k

content warning: some self-deprication

read on AO3

next

Alright, so it hadn’t been Jaskier’s most brilliant idea. One might even go so far as to say it was one of his worst ones, but in his defence, he had been tired, a teeny tiny bit drunk and majorly pissed off.

All throughout the evening Jaskier had to listen to stupid comments about witchers. No matter how many tales of Geralt’s heroic deeds he sang, Erik, the man who had given Geralt the contract he was currently risking his life on, kept insulting witchers, the fucking hypocrite.

Throughout it all Jaskier was forced to clench his teeth and continue singing. The most he could do was through death glares at the man and hope he choked on his ale. It wouldn’t do to disrupt his performance, not when they still needed the money to rent a room once Geralt came back, even though it made Jaskier’s blood boil to know people still spread lies about his friend. He came far too close to just stopping his performance and call the contractor out on his lies in front of the entire tavern.

As luck would have it, he didn’t need to.

Just as Jaskier’s last song came to a close the doors opened and Geralt came in, heading straight to the bearded man whose eyes grew wide as he took in Geralt’s black eyes and blood-splattered skin.

He must have been too scared to protest or swindle Geralt into giving him less coin.

Jaskier watched on in smug satisfaction, though he couldn’t pretend not to feel a pang when Geralt didn’t even spare him a single glance before leaving the tavern. As the doors fell close behind him Jaskier hurried to follow him, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the hated voice chimed up once again, louder now that Geralt had left the room.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Jaskier whirled around and fixed him with a raging snarl. “Maybe next time, he should just stay out of this town and not help you when your people are dying then?”

The man scoffed. “You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t mind his kind, but I don’t want them here for Marijan’s Day. No one does.”

“He just risked his life for you. If anything, you should be throwing a feast in his honour. The least you can do is not be arseholes and let him stay for your festival.”

“Listen, bard, this is a celebration of love. What does someone like him even want there? Everyone knows those mutants don’t –

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he prayed Geralt was already far enough away to not hear any of what the man was saying.

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

“Excuse me.” Jaskier’s voice became deadly cold. “Geralt is living proof that that’s a load of bullshit.”

Erik took a swig of his pint and fixed Jaskier with an almost pitying look. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but just because it’s painfully obvious that you adore the mutant like a loyal puppy doesn’t mean he feels anything for you.”

Jaskier could barely stop himself from flinching back. Those words hit too close. They were too true. How many nights has he lied awake wishing it were different? Maybe it would have been easier if it were true and witchers really didn’t feel. Then at least it wouldn’t have been Jaskier’s fault that Geralt couldn’t love him.

The thought hurt and it set his blood on fire and it made him lose all control over what his mouth was saying.

“Are you telling me my husband doesn’t love me? Is that what you’re saying?”

A wheezing sound left the man as he choked on his drink, but the small amount of satisfaction Jaskier got from it was short lived. “Your what?”

“My husband,” Jaskier said, firmer this time, consequences be damned. It’s not like sticking with what he had said would make this mess any worse. “And I will take him with me to your oh so wonderful festival and you can all see just how loving and brilliant and lovable he is!”

As soon as the words had left him, he regretted them. This could only end in disaster.

Convincing Geralt to accompany him to a celebration was hard enough, but with what Jaskier had just said? Geralt would rip his head right off when he found out. But like hell would Jaskier let these people continue slandering Geralt. He would do what he could to make them take back their poisonous words and if it tore his heart out in the process, so be it.

--

Geralt kept his head down as best he could as he entered the tavern. He had heard the whispers as he had approached and he felt his chest tighten as they all came to a suspicious halt once he entered the room. He didn’t need to smell the fear to know he wasn’t wanted here. Bitter guilt rose up in him. Only moments before, Jaskier had put on a performance and captivated the audience and now all eyes were on Geralt, no one caring about Jaskier the way they should.

He hurried to get his money and leave. It took all of his will power not to look at Jaskier. The thought of him waiting for Geralt’s return had gotten him through the fight and coming back to him was the best part of any contract.

And yet, despite all the times Jaskier had seen him dirty, with torn clothes and the toxins pumping through his blood, he couldn’t look him in the eyes now. Not in front of all these people. It was different when it was just the two of them in a room far away from prying eyes, but with everyone looking at Geralt … Jaskier wouldn’t want to be associated with the sight of him like this. It would expose any lies he told about Geralt’s valiant character.

So he left without chancing a glance at him, though he felt Jaskier’s eyes burning into his back.

Leaving the crowded tavern and the disgusted stares behind was freeing, though there was an insistent part of him that told him to go back. He didn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from lingering just outside the door. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to hear Jaskier strike up a new song, would hear the excitement in his voice as the rush of a performance overtook him.

What he heard instead made his heart sink like a stone.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Of course. What else could he have expected? Geralt was used to hearing such things, but it didn’t make them sting any less. For years he had been able to just lock those comments away and pretend they didn’t bother them, but ever since travelling with Jaskier this seemed impossible. Because one could only hear so many times that the man they travelled with was a monster before starting to believe it themselves. One day, Jaskier would begin to doubt. He would realise that if so many people agreed on what Geralt was, maybe he was in the wrong saying that Geralt was anything better.

With a bitter taste in his mouth and a painfully tight chest he listened to Jaskier defend him. It eased something inside him, dislodged a strangling heaviness in his lungs that made it hard to breathe.

Until –

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

Geralt staggered backwards. He couldn’t think, he just left -fled – those words ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stay to listen what Jaskier would say, if there even was something he could say.

For while the first part couldn’t be more untrue – the pangs shooting through Geralt’s heart all the proof needed that witchers could feel – no one, not even Jaskier who stood up for witchers where he could, could argue with the second part. Not when merely a minute ago Geralt had stood before him, his black eyes and unnaturally pale skin an unmistakable reminder of what he was. Not even Jaskier who was so full of love to give every one – everyone but him - would ever be able to love him.

For a sick second Geralt was almost grateful for hearing those words that had been said with such condescension and conviction. He had needed to hear them, needed the reminder. Too close had he gotten to letting himself forget. Too close to letting himself hope that Jaskier could –

He shook the thought off before thinking it fully and entered the inn, storming off into their room and shutting the door much louder than he would have if Jaskier had been there.

The loud bang of the door snapping shut did nothing to disrupt the thoughts still swirling in his mind. Even now with distance and walls between him and the venomous words he couldn’t shake them off.

What would be the point?

He scoffed into the silence of his lonely room. Yes, what was the point of all of it? Of letting Jaskier travel with him, of relishing every laugh shared and every moment spend together as if he could keep Jaskier in his life, when he knew that he didn’t even have him – would never have him. Not in the selfish and impossible way that he wanted.

His mind still hadn’t quieted down when the door opened again and Jaskier peeked into the room. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at how carefully quiet Jaskier was.

“The potion’s still making everything too loud?” he asked softly.

Geralt grunted in denial.

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh and went over to him, sitting down on the bed. Geralt’s chest grew tight when he saw how much space Jaskier had left between them, how he avoided Geralt’s eyes and how his hands never stayed still. Geralt wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Jaskier’s to calm his fidgeting. Instead he balled his hand into a fist at his side.

All he had hoped for was some peace and quiet. Some rest, with Jaskier talking about his day while Geralt let his voice lull him off into sleep.

Now though it seemed he would get none of it. Jaskier was obviously nervous and uncomfortable with Geralt around. The words of hate and bigotry had finally seeped into Jaskier’s mind now that he hadn’t been able to find any plausible reply to the claim that witchers were unlovable.

“So,” Jaskier said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. “there’s a festival in a couple of days.”

Geralt grunted. Of course he knew about that. As if the bustling preparations hadn’t been enough to tip him off, Jaskier’s unceasing rambling about the festival and its renown that had people travel from neighbouring countries just to see the festivities made sure that Geralt knew about it. The knowledge that the festival was threatened by the presence of the monsters Geralt had been told to get rid of had only made him more determined to finish the contrast as fast as possible. There was nothing as motivating as the excited way Jaskier was grinning when he spoke of something he was looking forward to and Geralt hadn’t been able to risk the festival falling through.

“And – as I’m sure you can imagine – I would very much like to go.”

“Then go,” Geralt said, though his heart clenched painfully. “I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I- what? Of course you won’t bother me. You never do. I was just… you see the thing is…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off uncertainly and his eyes flickered over to Geralt for a brief moment. It was enough to see the hints of anxiety in them.

He had never been afraid of him. Not until now apparently.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s all quite clear,” Geralt said and turned his face into the impassive mask that he had hoped he wouldn’t need around Jaskier anymore. “You want to have a good time at the festival and me being there would make that impossible.” When Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, Geralt added, “I heard what that man said. I’m not wanted there. Or in this town at all. So I’ll leave.” I won’t ruin this for you, he didn’t say.

Jaskier’s brows pinched together and he turned to face Geralt completely, suddenly sickly pale. “Geralt….how much exactly did you hear?”

Geralt shrugged, though his throat had gotten tight. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me say out loud that you can’t love me.

When he didn’t receive a satisfactory reply, Jaskier huffed. “Because I think you missed a crucial part of that conversation. Yes, I want to go to the festival – one might even say I need to – but I can’t go alone.”

Geralt huffed. “Because it’s a ‘celebration of love’? I didn’t think finding a partner would be a problem for you.” The words came out more bitter than he had intended and he risked a look at Jaskier, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny. If you need to know, there were in fact at least three lovely people in that tavern who I’m sure would love my company for the feast.”

“Go ask them then.” Geralt forced the words out from between his teeth. There went all hope of having a restful sleep that night. How could he sleep when he knew that other people needed to do no more than look at Jaskier to gain his heart?

“I’m afraid I need you specifically to come with me.”

No matter how much his heart ached or how much Geralt fought against it, he couldn’t keep the smirk from tugging at his lips. “Have you somehow managed to piss off someone already? Jaskier, we’ve been here for two days.” The smirk grew wider when offended noises left Jaskier’s lips. “And I told you I’m done playing your bodyguard. That was a one-time thing.”

Jaskier perked up. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not me we’d be protecting.”

Something sharp and ugly reared its head inside Geralt. “No,” he said, voice hard. “I am not going to protect one of your dalliances. Who you decide to bed is your business, as is what happens to them.”

Don’t ask this of me. Don’t make me watch you flirt and kiss and be happy with someone else, even if only for this one day.

And yet, even as Geralt said it, he knew he would do it if Jaskier asked again, if he shifted closer and his eyes took on that pleading look that Geralt wasn’t strong enough to withstand. If Jaskier looked like he really needed this of him, he would give it to him like the fool that he was, even as it would tear into his heart like the claws of a beast.

Jaskier let out a frustrated sigh and shut his eyes tightly.

“I need you to be my husband.” The words were rushed and quiet, as if speaking them like this would make Geralt miss them.

Geralt’s thoughts came to a screeching halt and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t have heard correctly. All of those stupid wishes and hopeless dreams must have made him mishear.

“Jaskier?” He couldn’t say more than that. Anything but that one name might show the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He feared the name alone could have been too much already.

“Not really, of course,” Jaskier added hastily and rubbed his fingers together. “I… please don’t be mad at me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together and his heart sank. “What did you do?”

“I – I might have said that we were married.”

“Us married?” Geralt let out a sharp laugh that held no mirth. “Us married. I thought you were a master of words, how can you come up with such an obvious lie?”

The words stung as he spoke them and the dagger they plunged into his chest twisted when Jaskier winced. How else could Jaskier react, having thrown his stupid lie back in his face, probably only just now realising how horrible being married to Geralt truly would be.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad.” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Geralt raked a hand through his hair, frustration eating at him. “I never said that. But I’m not. I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing.”

Jaskier’s eyes blazed. “Because they were being arseholes!” His voice got louder with each word. “No matter what I did, no matter how often I told them about how good you are, they just kept saying things and I – I’m sorry, but I panicked and the words just slipped out.”

Just slipped out. As if the sole idea of them being anything more than friends wasn’t enough to drive Geralt mad. But saying it out loud, letting the words just slip out, as if it wasn’t something earthshattering…

“That won’t change anything,” Geralt said as evenly as he could. “Just because you said that doesn’t mean you’ll have to take me to the festival. I’m sure you’ll come up with some excuse as to why your husband isn’t with you and you can still have your fun.”

“That’s not what –“ Jaskier bit his lip and a hint of red tinted his cheeks. “It’s not about me having fun. It’s about proving to them that you are not what they say you are.”

Geralt was almost tempted to ask him what exactly that was, to hear Jaskier say the words that dug into Geralt’s chest out loud, but Jaskier looked so crestfallen, as if the thought of what people said physically pained him.

And why wouldn’t it? The wonderful idiot had made it his life’s work to improve Geralt’s reputation, and out of all the things that could be said about Jaskier, he was stubborn beyond compare – likely the main reason why he was still suffering Geralt’s company after all these years. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t like hearing people slander the thing he had dedicated his life to. Though those insults and scoffs were aimed at Geralt, they too hit Jaskier, told him he wasn’t good enough at what he was doing.

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, you don’t need to do something that would make you uncomfortable just to proof something to them. They – it’s not worth it.”

“It is.” Jaskier’s eyes were determined. “Geralt please. Just for the festival. Please pretend you’re in love with me.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. There were reasons why this was a horrible idea. There were consequences that would surely come off this.

But the thought of being allowed to show even just a fraction of what he felt for Jaskier, even if just for one day, overshadowed all rational thought. It would hurt, it would break him, but just for that one day it would be worth it if it meant knowing what it would be like to feel that look that Jaskier gifted everyone else on him.

Afraid of the emotion that he wouldn’t be able to hide if he opened his mouth, Geralt only nodded.

Jaskier beamed at him and Geralt’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. He was not going to make it thought this with his heart in one piece.

But he could do it even if it was torture. It was just one day.

[sadclearance]

like like like

pairing: hiroto maehara x male!reader

summary: hiroto comes to the revelation that feelings between friends and lovers are not the same thing, as he once used to believe.

category: fluff(?)

word count: 2107

key:

italicized - flashback / thoughts

"we should break up."

"why?" hiroto asked.

"it's just..."

"i don't feel like you really love me."

"you're in class e..."

"you accept love letters from other girls."

"you're always distracted when we're together..."

"you're really friendly with others..."

"i feel like you don't care about me as much as i care about you."

the situation has repeated itself so many times, hiroto can't keep track anymore. he's heard thousands of different reasons, and he tries to fix everything that he can, but it's harder than he thinks it should be.

however, no matter how many different reasons for breakups he hears, he can never forget the final identical line of all of his relationships.

"do you even like me?"

he felt as if that was such a stupid question to ask. of course he liked her. of course he liked all of them. why else would he date them?

hiroto ran his right hand through his hair and leaned back against a tree that he had sat under for shade. it was a hot day, and he really wanted a nice sweet treat. class 3-e was fun, but it definitely had its downsides.

"what're you thinking so hard about?"

hiroto looked up and saw his best friend.

"what are you doing up here?" hiroto asked with a pleasant smile. seeing his best friend brought his mood up.

"hot day. figured you could use something cool," y/n shrugged as he took a seat next to hiroto and handed him an ice pop.

"how has that not melted?" hiroto asked.

"i have that cool pack thing," y/n explained.

"cool," hiroto smiled, gladly accepting the nice icy treat. hiroto's smile deepened at how y/n knew him so well.

"you never answered me," y/n said as he leaned back against the tree as well.

"it's just... i know i flirt around a lot, but when i do have a girlfriend, i don't cheat."

"mhm," y/n nodded. "what about it?"

"well... i don't know. what gives girls the impression that i don't like them?" hiroto pondered as he ripped open the plastic barrier that stood between him and his delectable gift from y/n.

"what are you talking about?"

"i've been trying to think of why all of my relationships flop, and the one thing that they all have in common is that one question. 'do you even like me?' of course i like them. why else would i date them?"

"do you like isogai?" y/n asked.

"what kind of question is that? of course i do," hiroto said, not even bothering to take the treat out of his mouth.

"do you like... say, a pretty girl?"

"sure i do."

"see how those things are different?"

"kind of," hiroto shrugged.

"what do you mean 'kind of'?"

"well, when you date someone, shouldn't you also like them as a friend? if i don't even like them as a friend, how am i gonna like them as a girlfriend?"

"i think your problem's that you don't know if it ever exceeds the friend like."

"what's the difference?"

"how would i know?"

"i don't know, haven't you liked anyone before?"

"well..." y/n started.

"i've never heard you talk about anything like that before. who do you like?"

"i..." y/n pursed his lips.

"what's a guy from 3-b doing up here?" karma asked as he approached the pair, saving y/n from having to answer hiroto's question. "it's a long walk."

"just came to visit," y/n answered nonchalantly. or, as nonchalantly as he could.

"all that effort to visit?" karma laughed. "you're one dedicated guy."

"yeah, i guess you could say that..." y/n said shyly, looking away from karma. he saw right through him. "i mean, i guess it's not normal for a guy to walk up an entire mountain to visit his guy friend..."

hiroto noticed how bright y/n's face was getting and started eyeing karma.

karma smirked at their reactions.

"you and maehara must be real close friends," karma said.

"yeah, we're best friends," hiroto said, now almost glaring at the redhead.

"cool. see ya," karma gave a short wave to the two as he continued walking to where he was headed to in the first place.

"as i was saying... c'mon, man! i always tell you whenever i like someone," hiroto said, getting back on topic.

"you always like someone, hiroto," y/n laughed stiffly.

despite y/n's best efforts at lightening the mood, hiroto could tell that he was still tense.

"is it karma?"

"what? are you absurd?" y/n asked, bewildered. "how did you even come up with that?"

hiroto shrugged as he licked the juice of the popsicle that had fallen down his arm.

y/n paused, watching what was happening.

"what's up?" hiroto asked once he noticed that it was oddly quiet for a while.

"i should get back to the main building," y/n said immediately, snapping out of his trance and scrambling to grab his backpack. "see you later."

"yeah... see you later..." hiroto said as he watched y/n run down the hill, suddenly remembering something about his best friend.

"y/n hates hiking... did he come all this way just to see that guy?"

"y/n didn't say no..." hiroto sighed. he was the last person left in the classroom, and he didn't even know what he was still doing there.

"didn't say no to what?" karma asked from the door of the classroom.

"akabane? i didn't know you were still here," hiroto said in bewilderment.

"i forgot something. what about you? what are you doing here?"

hiroto could only shrug.

"what did y/n not say no to?" karma asked again.

hiroto paused. he wasn't even sure of y/n's feelings for karma, and even if he was, was it really his business to be spreading it around?

hiroto settled for asking karma a question instead.

"how do you feel about guys liking other guys?" hiroto asked. he tensed. he hadn't thought too much about that topic before.

"i don't care," karma simply shrugged. "what's that got to do with anything?"

"what if... what if a guy liked you?" hiroto asked. he felt awkward and anxious. he didn't know what answer he was expecting.

"well, i wouldn't care," karma shrugged.

"what do you mean?" hiroto pressed on.

"well, say, if y/n were to like me..." karma started, making hiroto subconsciously hold his breath. "well, i wouldn't mind."

"like... like like?" hiroto almost audibly gulped.

karma laughed at his words. "we're not in kindergarten anymore. you should know what i meant."

the thought of y/n liking karma made him sick to his stomach, and it made him feel terrible. he didn't know that he felt that way towards homosexuals, and the idea of these disgusting bigoted thoughts getting in the way of his and y/n's friendship made him disgusted with himself.

"do you... like him?" hiroto asked.

"why would i tell you?" karma laughed. "i should get going. see you tomorrow."

hiroto wanted to bang his head against the wall.

hiroto was now forced to face this conflict in his life that he had never in his life thought he would have to face.

he himself couldn't believe that y/n liking karma bothered him so much.

"i swear i've never thought of homos like that," hiroto groaned as he slammed his head on his desk. everyone else was outside, as they were awarded free time until the end of the day.

"homos?" rio nakamura almost laughed when she heard hiroto. "i knew you were a playboy, but i didn't know you were a homo."

"i'm not a homo," hiroto frowned. "i wasn't talking about myself."

"yeah, i figured. you flirt with girls too much for that," rio let out an amused smile. "what's bothering you?"

"how do you know something's bothering me?"

"we could start with the fact that you slammed your head on your desk just now."

"oh... yeah," hiroto nodded. "it's just... god damn... i never thought homos bothered me, but now i just don't know... i think my friend likes this guy, and whenever i think about it it makes me queasy and mad. i never thought i was bigoted..."

"who's this guy?" rio asked.

"akabane," hiroto groaned. "i think akabane likes him, too."

"so? good for them then," rio shrugged.

"i know! i don't know why i can't just be happy for him... he's my best friend," hiroto groaned.

"isogai?" rio asked in disbelief.

"no," hiroto shook his head. "not isogai."

"y/n?"

"yeah," hiroto's frown deepened. "i don't know why he would like akabane... you know, he's never talked about who he liked. maybe it's because he knew i would react this way... hell, even i didn't know i'd react this way... that's why he's my best friend. he's always known me so well... maybe even more than i do."

"are you sure you're bigoted?" rio asked.

"what else is there to explain how upset and angry i get at the thought of akabane and y/n being together?"

"sounds like you like y/n more than anything."

"what?" hiroto almost shot out of his seat.

"are you an idiot?" rio laughed.

"no way!"

"why?"

"he's my best friend!"

friend...

"if i don't even like them as a friend, how am i gonna like them as a..."

"yeah... friendship is my key to a relationship, but... y/n's..."

"a guy?" rio raised a brow.

"yeah! stop talking like that doesn't mean anything!"

"if that bugs you that much, why not just let karma have him?" rio shrugged.

"no!" hiroto said with so much aggression that he even surprised himself. hiroto's eyes widened, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. he hurriedly ran out of the classroom.

rio burst out laughing. hiroto was stupid on a whole other level.

hiroto was a fit guy, but he had forgotten his limits while running down the mountain that led to the classroom of 3-e.

he panted heavily as he made it to the front of the main building. he saw that there were students pouring out of the school, seeing as school had just ended a few minutes ago. the familiar face immediately caught hiroto's attention, and hiroto ran as fast as his tired body would let him in order to reach his best friend.

his body nearly slammed into y/n's, and he pulled y/n to the side.

"woah, hiroto, what're you doing here?" y/n asked, noticing how exhausted hiroto looked.

"i--" hiroto breathed, obviously needing a second to catch his breath.

"sit down first. you look like you just ran for your life," y/n said as he guided the two of them to a bench.

"i--" hiroto tried again. "i li--"

"you what?" y/n asked.

"i like you!" hiroto finally managed out, his heart caught in his throat both because of the physical strain he just put himself through and the fact that he had just confessed to his best friend. he had never felt this way because of someone before. maybe this is what y/n meant. maybe this was what you felt when your feelings for someone exceeded that of which you would feel for a friend.

"what?" y/n asked in complete disbelief. "i... thanks?"

"no," hiroto shook his head, taking another gulp of air. "i like you!"

"you're confusing your feelings like you always do," y/n shook his head.

"no, i like like you," hiroto said, regaining his composure only to lose it immediately. "the thought of you liking akabane... i can't! i can't deal with it. you're the only one that has ever made me feel so jealous and protective and possessive before. i can't stand the idea of you liking someone else, which has never been a problem for me before because you had never shown any interest in anyone before, and i only realized now because of your feelings for akabane."

"idiot! i told you i don't have feelings for akabane," y/n said with a bright red face.

"then why wouldn't you tell me who you--"

"it's you, you idiot," y/n said, unable to look hiroto in his eyes.

was this really happening? girl after girl, y/n could only sit there and observe as a heartbroken side character. was this real?

hiroto sat there in disbelief, finally having time to regulate his breath for good.

y/n cautiously looked back up at hiroto, tensing at the lack of response.

once their eyes met, hiroto didn't waste a second to smash his lips against y/n's.

they all asked him the same thing.

"do you even like me?"

"i like you, y/n," hiroto said with the biggest smile he had ever smiled, leaning his forehead against y/n's.

"i like you, too."

a/n; posted on my Wattpad, ao3, and deviantart. wanted to post on here too because I wanna get back into posting on tumblr i guess

[renee-writer]

Roommate Wanted Chapter 59 Trouble

AO3

They take Óri out to a restaurant when he is six months old. Still almost exclusively nursed, they will try him on some porridge as a way to celebrate his half year. They walk in together, Jamie carrying Óri. The lasses enter first, holding hands. A hostess approaches, carrying menus. “Table for three with a high chair.” She leads them there.

“A waitress will be right back to take your orders.” Jamie slips his son in the high chair, securing him firmly. He starts to bang his hands on the top. An older couple sitting by them, smiles.

“He is a bawl laddie. How old?”

“He is six months old today.” Jenny replies with pride.

“A brawl lad indeed. Takes after his daddy.” the auld woman continues.

“Yes he does.” Claire reaches out to stroke her son’s hair.

“Which one of you is the mam?”

They take it as a question from an intrusive if sweet lady. That is their mistake.

“We both are. I gave birth to him but we are both his mam’s.”

“I told you Earl, dinna I? When they came in. There was something about them. Lesbians and raising that sweet baby. Tis a shame.”

“Now Betty.” Her husband pats her hand, trying to calm her.

Jenny stands. Both Claire and Jamie reach for her but her anger has already propelled her to the couple. “A shame! A shame! No, the shame is the bairns without a mam or dad, left to fend for themselves because their parents are on drugs, or those beat or buggered. That is the shame. But me, my wife and,” She stops a minute relishing how the bigots will respond to this, “her husband, my brother, raise our son?” Her blue eyes flash as her hands fist on her hips.

“What?” the husband, Earl, chokes out.

“Yes, we are legally married. They are hand fast. Means the same as far as we are concerned. She and we, fell in love. Our son is being raised with three parents that love him. He is a very blessed little boy. Now do you two have anything else to say?”

“It is an abomination.” Betty says.

“No, that there are still people that think like you, in this day and age is.” From the tables around them come the sound of clapping. “and they agree.”

“Come Betty, let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t let the door hit you.” Jenny calls out as they lay some pounds on the table and leave. Claire and Jamie stand to hug her and the applause gets louder. A man approaches.

“Hello, I am John Grey, me and my partner, Hector, own this restaurant. Your meal is on the house.’

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Jamie protests.

“Please, the courage and fearsomeness your sister showed deserves to be honored.”

“Well thank you.” He sits down with them and learns all about their unique family. By the end of the meal, they have a new mate and Óri has his first taste of porridge, which gets a mixed reception as he spits over half out. They call it a success.

[issamhysa]

Blood, Blood, Gallons Of The Stuff

Pairing: Beth x Reader

Summary: After a successful “hunt”, Beth visits her girlfriend to be taken care of.

Warnings: Blood, language, mentions of injury, mentions of murder

A/N: It’s Halloween and I had to write this, okay?

Beth’s fist rapped three times against the door, her bruised knuckles leaving bloody prints on the white wood. Drawing her hand back, she shook her head at the side, both in an attempt to soothe her pain and also rid her hand of the excess blood, which had now splattered everywhere.

She sighed wearily, tilting her head up towards the cloudy night sky.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The door swung open a minute later, and Beth tilted her head to look at you, who stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Holy shit, B. What the hell happened to you? You get run over by a fuckin’ train?”

With a pause, your eyes scanned up and down Beth’s body, no doubt taking in her miserable state; from the blood soaking her clothes and staining her hands and face, to the crowbar in her hand, which she quickly tossed into the bushes a few feet away from her.

“Twice?”

Despite the genuine concern in your tone, Beth could tell you were trying hard not to laugh. The way the corner of your lip twitched upward gave you away every single time.

“Are you gonna let me in? I’m freezing my dick off.”

You finally laughed, stepping aside to let Beth in. Beth brushed past you with a muttered “thanks” and marched up the stairs with heavy steps. As she made her way down the hall, the door to your sister’s room began to open, but before it could fully do so, Beth grabbed the handle and pulled hard. Slamming the door shut, she ignored the young girl's protests and continued her towards your room.

By the time you had managed to catch up, Beth was already naked in the tub, scrubbing at the red stains on her skin under the scalding stream. Her clothes lay bunched up in a bloody heap by the bathtub, filling the bathroom with a metallic scent.

Gross.

“So, B, are you gonna tell me what happened?” You asked over the sound of the running water. By the way your voice echoed throughout the small bathroom, Beth assumed you were somewhere near the sink, trying to escape the suffocating steam. “You get caught?”

“No, I didn’t get caught!” Beth spat out bitterly, watching the remnants of the blood on her skin mix with the water and swirl down the drain. “He’s dead, I just… Underestimated how prepared he was.”

“Beth—” You started, prompting Beth to roll her eyes.

“Oh, no. Y/N, for the love of God, not the speech—”

“— it’s Halloween! And you know how paranoid everyone in this godforsaken town is, especially during this time of year!”

Ugh!

Beth let out a loud groan, banging her head twice against the glass. She considered sliding down the glass door for effect, but decided against it, wanting to get out of the steam as soon as she could. “Can you just get me a towel?”

“Fine,” you huffed. Beth heard the door open, but you spoke up again, “anything else?”

“Bandages. Lots and lots of fucking bandages.”

With a snort, the door clicked shut.

***

“Beth, I swear to God, if you don’t stop moving I’m gonna fuckin’ tie you down.”

“That a promise or a threat?”

“You really wanna find out?”

Beth didn’t answer, opting to stay still and quiet as you wrapped the bandage around the smattering of cuts and bruises that covered her chest. She winced when you nudged at her left side to confirm your suspicions. With that, you tied the bandage off and sighed deeply.

“How the hell did he crack your rib?”

“He… didn’t,” Beth murmured, sitting down on the plush mattress when you gently pushed her by the shoulders. “I tripped over a fucking root."

It was a lie. The bastard had caught her off guard with a left hook to the ribcage.

"Shit hurt like a bitch."

You chuckled quietly after sitting down next to her, now working on carefully bandaging the gash on her arm. “Yeah, I can imagine,” you teased. The two of you were silent as you finished covering Beth’s knuckles with what was left of the roll of bandages. Tossing the empty roll over your shoulder, you took Beth’s face in your hands and turned her head in your direction.

Beth stared straight at you as you brushed your thumb over the crack on her lower lip, which stung at the touch, causing Beth to wince again. With a short apology, you dabbed at the split lip with a gauze, tossing it in the bin when you were done.

“Do you still have those pajama pants you let me borrow last week?” Beth asked, watching you clear out the bed so that she could lie down. You turned to her with a small grin and a quirked eyebrow, opening your mouth to speak. Before you could, though, Beth quickly added, “yes, the orange ones with the little bats on them.”

Giggling, you pressed a kiss to the grimacing girl's cheek and moved to dig through your drawers, fishing out Beth's fuzzy pajama pants and tossing them in her direction.

Beth reached out to catch them, sliding them on carefully with a pained hiss when she was forced to lift her hips off the bed to put them on properly. Settling back against the pillows, Beth huffed, extending a hand out in your direction.

"Yeah, yeah," you said with a smile, crawling into bed with her. Beth immediately curled up into you with a yawn while you played with your hair and trailed kisses along her jaw. "You didn't have to kill my dad for me, though. He got you pretty good, B."

"Yeah, but he's dead," she shrugged, looking up at you and nudging your nose with her own. "Plus, he was a total fucking, homophobic, bigoted son of a bitch. He had it coming."

"True."

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 5

MASTER LIST found here

SUMMARY: A new dilemma has risen in Lydia that she takes to the only one she can talk to about it.

SOLIDARITY

B**TLEB*BES DNI

(TW mentions of J*no, mentions of murder(no murder tho), mentions of bullying, mentions of the wedding death scene)))

Another day of school, another day of Lydia having complex feelings bubble up in her stomach. This was getting borderline exhausting with all the thoughts she kept bottled up inside. Even though she had become more comfortable with her therapist, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to just spill her guts out about these thoughts. Closing the front door behind her, she swung her backpack off while exhaling a long groan. No one was home yet except for the Maitlands, of course. They were probably upstairs since she didn't see them after scanning the living room. Rummaging through her backpack on the table she pulled out things she needed for homework then sluggishly retreated upstairs. School wasn't engaging and often times left her yearning for more. The Maitlands had recently found a way to help make her learning more simulating through their ghostly powers. They were still learning themselves. They tried learning more from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. However, as Adam put it, it 'read like radio instructions'. Lydia didn't have too much of a hard time understanding it personally. Though that probably was because she loved deciphering the nonsensical text.

Should she let the Maitlands know she's home?

She usually would announce herself. Yet, that feeling wasn't leaving her stomach. It dampening her mood. Lydia didn't want to bother the ghostly couple with her problem. Since she still didn't understand it entirely herself. It was days like these she wished her mom was still alive. Regret wove itself in her every once in a while for leaving the Netherworld. Missing her chance to reconnect with her mother again. She knew deep down it was for the best. She would've also liked it if Delia and her dad had waited for a while before getting wed. She understood though they felt the fleetingness of life and wanted to make the best of it as long as they both were breathing. That would be another can of worms for Lydia to tackle another day. Lydia tossed her things on her bed when she entered her room. Closing the door behind her then took off her shoes. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her when she walked over to her mirror and gazed at herself.

"Why are feelings stupid..." She muttered. Grabbing a hair tie off of her stand, she ran her fingers through the raven locks tying it up.

"That's because you breathers have too many feelings; It makes shit complicated." A gravely voice chimed in. Lydia flinched for a moment then turned to scowl at the older man.

"I told you that you couldn't come into the house yet!" She snarled at him. Lydia began rubbing the pads of her forefinger and middle in circles against the temple of her head. Beetlejuice snorted then crossed his arms.

"You ain't exactly the boss of me kid. I do what I want. Within reason of your dumb rules. Besides, I was bored waiting in the stupid cemetery. There weren't any breathers to mess with today so I couldn't get anyone else to say my name." Beetlejuice rambled on, giving Lydia a shrug. The young teen threw herself face first on her bed. She thought over for a moment how risky this was.

"You didn't let Barabara and Adam see you, right?" Lydia questioned, sitting up a little on her elbows. Beetlejuice hummed while pulling his eyes out from their sockets.

"Nope, not a peep!" He snickered while tossing them in the air like a pair of die. Lydia looked on unamused before rolling on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The demon popped his eyes back in.

"Oh boy, are you having one of those angsty teen moments again? Am I gonna have to leave while you recite goth poetry or some shit?" He floated up from the ground then whipped over to her. Lydia inhaled deeply before giving a loud groan.

"Go away if you're gonna be an ass." Lydia reached out for a pillow to grab. Beetlejuice tensed up as he knew it was meant for his face. He deflated a little when he saw her hug then bury herself against it. Just as the teen hated when he would get moody, he felt the same about her. Though it was strange, the past three months now that they've been hanging out he has started to feel something he never had before. Was it that gross thing called empathy? He sighed deeply while busying himself with picking at his nails. This was going to require some finesse.

"Alright, you twisted my arm Lyds. What's bugging ya? What can your ol' pal Mr. Betelboose do to, ugh, 'help'?" He peered from the corner of his eye to see if she'd budge. She did not. He did get a grunt in response. Some progress was a win for him. Lydia flailed her legs a little as a muffled groan rose from her. The demon patiently waited for her to speak.

"As bizarre as it is to say.." Lydia dug her fingernails into her pillow as she pulled it away from her face finally. Her features scrunched up, her lips pursed. Relaxing after a moment of what looked like deep contemplation from Beetlejuice's perspective she finally spoke. "I think you might be the only person I can talk to about this." Lydia softly spoke.

Now, this was interesting.

She was actually being vulnerable to him. He only saw her do that once and that was when she summoned him back from the Netherworld. That was because of everything that built up from before. This seemed to be a new dilemma on the young girl's mind. He waved his hand to let her know she could continue.

"Beej. When did you discover that you had feelings for guys, too?" Lydia drawled out while shiftily gazing around the room. Anywhere other than making eye contact. Beetlejuice stroked his scruffy chin while trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was there a boy she liked? Did his stoic bratty friend actually have sappy feelings as well?

Wait.

"You're asking how I knew I was into more than just women? Well, first off, there is one thing ya gotta know about the Netherworld. Most folks swing both if not all ways." Beetlejuice jokingly conjured up a baseball bat and took multiple swings in different directions with it. It earned him a snort which he grinned at before continuing.

"It kind of came as an easy realization for me. I know that the stupid shit you breathers go about here on the mortal plane carries off into the Netherworld sometimes. It doesn't stick for long cause who the hell are you gonna complain to? No one." He rolled his eyes remembering all of the bigoted folks that would come through and get their panties in a twist at how the rest of the Netherworld was. While he wasn't the biggest fan of staying there all the time it wasn't always horrible there. The world of the living was more of a party for him.

"How did you really know, though?" Lydia hugged the pillow closer to her while sitting up. Beetlejuice plopped himself onto the bed next to her. Lydia had a surprisingly smart melon in that goth head of hers. He was curious why she was doubting herself so much.

"Probably when I made out with that one famous painter." He picked at his teeth. Lydia arched a brow.

"Which one?"

"You know me, scarecrow, don't kiss and tell." He grinned at her. Lydia gently smacked his knee.

"Oh BS, you always name drop famous people." She snorted. Beetlejuice snickered, moving his hands behind him then slid back more on the bed.

"You're right, I just don't remember the guy's name right now. Listen. I guess I get it. I've been observing you breathers for almost a millennia. Feelings are gross. But I know when it comes to this stuff it can be hard. Especially for kids. If there's something ya gotta blab to me about." He tilted his head in her direction while making sure he had her attention. She gave a slow nod for him to continue, "Then I'm listening."

Lydia inhaled deeply. This was nerve-racking. She just didn't know how to even express herself.

"I... I might have." Lydia banged her head into the soft pillow and gave a small whine. "I might.. like a girl at school." She spoke barely above a whisper. Beetlejuice leaned over since he could barely hear her. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the smell yet allowed him to do so.

"What was that kid? Gotta speak up." He gave a coy smile. Lydia scowled at him then looked away.

"I said... That I might like a girl at school. I'm not repeating myself again." Her cheeks were heating up at how embarrassing this was. Not so much expressing her feelings. It was more talking about a damn school crush to her stupid demon friend she was starting to make amends with. She looked over to him after a moment of making sure he wasn't going to tease her then noticed him grinning wide.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. HA. Of course, you're into girls! Look at you, you're tiny, snarky all the time and goth." Beetlejuice yammered on as he elbowed her side.

"Ha-ha, is this amusing to you or something? I just spilled my damn guts out." Lydia frowned, her cheeks flushed. Beetlejuice shook his head.

"Eh, maybe a little, I just find it funny that widdle Lydia has a crush. Always figured you were too feral and hated people too much for that." He pinched her cheek. She was close to snapping her teeth at his fingers. She opted for batting his hand away. Lydia wiped her cheek with her sleeve. He snickered in response then rested his elbows on his knees.

"Call me 'widdle' again and I'll throw you off the roof as I did before." She stuck her tongue out at him then took note of him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nuthin'. Just weird seeing you actually act like a teenager instead of your usual dry, deadpan self." He patted her hard on the back to which she grunted at him. "Good for you! Better to be your real self than locking that shit away. Dolores and Chuck'll probably be. I don't know, what's that word you breathers use now? 'Woke'? About this. I know the Maitlands will be. Ugh, they are just soooo supportive it's disgusting." He gagged at his last sentence to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell anyone. At least not yet." Lydia softly spoke as she played with the pillow resting in her lap. Beej quirked a brow at her then snorted. He gave a soft bap on her head with his fist.

"Listen. I don't normally give pep talks that aren't about scaring, murder or crap. I guess I can try to understand. Daphne might be too intrusive about it. Chuck might just be super awkward about it and say something embarrassing. The other nerds are definitely gonna dote on you." Beetlejuice picked at his teeth. "Eh, take your time if you wanna. Just know that the Netherworld when ya shed your meat-sack body is gonna be fine with who or what yer into. Fuck what anyone else thinks." He let out a long yawn then stretched a little. "Trying to be nice makes me wanna take a nap or doing something nasty. Or hurl. Can't decide, this is gross."

Lydia looked over the demon while taking note of his words. She snickered at him dramatically pretending to upheave then shoved him.

"Stop being gross for five minutes." Lydia snorted then sat back on her bed finally letting go of her pillow. "Honestly.. My stomach is in a knot still. Part of me kind of wants to tell her however I don't want people to.." Midway through Lydia trailed off into a soft whisper. "I just don't want more of a reason for people to target me at school. I can handle myself for the most part. Just kind of hard when they gang up on me." She tugged at the edge of her school uniform. Without skipping a beat Beetlejuice responded.

"Want me to kill 'em for ya? I mean, if they're that big of lil assholes I'd probably be doing their parents a favor." Beetlejuice grinned while taking out a knife from his sleeve. "I'll 'cut' them down to size!" He cackled while swishing the knife around. Lydia ducked down then snorted.

"No. Murder isn't the answer to everything, BJ. Those girls are jerks but they aren't the root of the problem. Kids don't naturally act like bigoted brats. It's probably coming from their parents or something, to begin with." Lydia grabbed his arm to make him stop swinging the knife. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue then thought over what she said.

"Alright. Kill the parents and the brats. Two for two-plus no sad little orphans!" Beetlejuice hovered off the bed in glee while throwing his arms up into the air. "It'll be a real scream Lyds! Just let me loose on 'em! Come on! I haven't killed anyone since Juno!" He flexed his fingers while looking to her like an overjoyed child in a candy store. Lydia raised her hand up with a shake of her head.

"Didn't I just say murder wasn't the answer to everything?" She answered dryly while quirking a brow at him.

"I don't know, you murdered me pretty fast to try and kick my ass into the Netherworld," Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia inhaled deeply through her nostrils then slapped his thigh with her pillow.

"I'm serious. No murdering people on my behalf. I appreciate the enthusiasm but I don't want the cops on me. Making people suffer is more fun anyway." Lydia dropped the pillow then stretched her legs out. Beetlejuice floated back down to the bed then gave a little pout.

"Bah. Thought you were more fun than that, kid. Though torture also sounds like a blast." He stroked his scruffy chin. The goth teen kicked her feet against the edge of the bed.

"I was thinking more about pranking." She chuckled. "You know.. I might try talking to that girl. Just not yet." Lydia lulled her head against her shoulder to peer back at the demon. "I hate to stroke that big ego of yours. I wanna tell you that I kind of appreciate you talking to me about this. It's nice to talk to someone else who is attracted to the same gender." She took out her phone then opened the browser.

"Plus I see myself as more than one gender. Though that's a topic for another time, kid." He waved his hand as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lydia swung her head up to stare at him.

"Oh; does that mean you're genderfluid?"

"Gender what now?" Beetlejuice quizzically stared at her while scratching the top of his scalp. Lydia quickly brought something up on her phone then showed him.

"You identify as more than one gender. See?" Lydia began scrolling through a website about the LGBTQ+ community while Beetlejuice crossed his arms and tried reading over it.

"Huh. Well shit. Guess so? Then what's being attracted to more than one gender?" He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand to look over it more.

"Well, that is a broader category. You could be either Bisexual or Pansexual." She sat up on her knees as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the screen. Slowly she scrolled back up on the browser and pointed out the two. Beetlejuice hummed then plopped the phone back into her lap.

"Learn something new every day!" Beetlejuice grinned. The two froze when they heard the familiar voice of a woman echoing through the house.

"Lydia?? Are you home? We can get started on your homework if you want!" Barbara's hand began phasing through the door. With that Beetlejuice flung himself out the window as Lydia swatted grave dirt he left behind on her bed.

"Coming Barbara!" Lydia called.

She couldn't keep hiding him forever.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

II

February 3, 2278.

Some of the Brotherhood came over to gawk again. A simple growl made them back off, but it doesn’t stop them from throwing an insult about my skin. Not that it fazes me. I must say, I don’t care. Percy though? If she were awake right now, she would’ve mauled those tin cans.

The doctors put Percy in an induced coma. One of the scribes said that being awake for her now would be painful for her.

It’s been six days since the purifier, and I remember an explosion from inside the chamber knocking me back, the glass flying everywhere. When I came to, I saw her lying there, her armor damaged and glasses shattered from the impact, some of the glass piercing her skin. I hauled her out of there. Didn’t let anyone near her, not even Dr. Li. I must’ve looked like a yao guai refusing to let go of their kill to these Brotherhood bigots.

There are holes in my memory, but I remember seeing blood on the floor when they tried to wrench her away from my grasp. If the blood belonged to me, or to one of the tin cans, I can’t recall. My ears were ringing, but I know someone was shouting, telling the power-armored assholes to give me a wide berth.

It wasn’t until Li told me that my partner would probably die if I didn’t let them administer medical attention that I reluctantly laid her body down on a gurney. I stayed by Percy’s side as they wheeled her to the emergency room. The scribes told me to get lost, but a cock of my shotgun made them cease their pestering.

As they hooked her onto life support, I sat down at the ground near the foot of the bed. I barely moved an inch since. The doctors made blood transfusions, pumped her with RadAway, injected a cocktail of chems to keep her sedated, anything to keep her alive.

The worst part was the seizures. I don’t think I can burn those memories away, watching my partner’s body convulse and thrash against the bed.

From time to time, Dr. Li and a few of the scribes who weren’t bigots would send me food and water as they checked on Percy’s condition. With her father dead, there was no next of kin, but they knew how I stuck by her side, they shared the prognosis with me. They mentioned some terms like leukopenia, hypotension, and other terms I couldn’t understand.

All I know is she’s unwell and I can’t leave her.

Tonight, Li approached me and brought some news. Percy is stable, for now. To my surprise, she sat on the floor beside me, and pressed her hands against her face before letting out a nervous sob.

“I barely got to know her and she could be gone anytime. And to think I tried to push her away. God. Not like this...”

I let her continue mumbling.

“I should have known better than to let her in. I shouldn’t have let myself care for her. But that girl is persistent, isn’t she?”

That, I can agree with. Percy wormed her way into my heart, too.

“You,” she spoke. I look in her direction, but she’s looking straight ahead, her thousand-yard stare familiar. “You got her out of that chamber in the nick of time. A few more seconds inside and she… she could’ve ended up like James.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing.

December 26, 2277.

I was watching Percy’s back as she took care of the intake pipes when the Enclave’s vertibirds came flying in.

“Charon. I have a bad feeling about this,” I remember her saying.

The image of the black machines landing near the memorial stirred a feeling of dread. A pressure on my neck choked me despite the lack of anything constricting it. Before I knew it, the dull pressure in the back of my eyes made me pull what’s little left of my hair. My chest hurt like a bitch and it felt like my rib cage was going to explode.

Percy was quick to notice my distress.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” she cooed in a soothing manner, placing my ruined hands against her soft cheeks to stop me from hurting myself. “Breathe, Charon. Focus on me,” she continues, squeezing my hands. She leads me through the grate to remove me from the situation and turns on her Pip-Boy light.

“Remember what we did in Megaton? Can we do that?” she asks me; it wasn’t a command. “Yes,” I manage to rasp out. My head was spinning, but I focused on her voice to stop myself from blacking out. I won’t let myself black out. She’ll need me .

“Five things you can see?” she starts, and I comply, trying to speak though it feels like I’m choking on mole rat shit. “I see the metal gate. My hands. My feet. The Pip-Boy light. You.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged me, digging inside her pack. “Four things you can touch.”

“I feel the fabric of my shirt,” I continue, sweating hands palming at myself. “I can feel my shotgun,” I rasp, grasping at the barrel. “Warm, right? Like how you like it?” Percy breathes, and I see that she found a bubble gum wrapper and placed it in my palm, before gently closing her hands around my fist. “Yes. I can feel the bubblegum wrapper,” I continue. “I can feel your skin,” I say at last.

“Three things you can smell.”

Her hands stayed on mine. I unclenched my fists, held them, delicate against mine, and pressed them against my ruined cheeks. Percy draws a little closer, her eyes searching mine.

“I think I can manage now,” I exhale, lucid once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain.”

“What triggered it?” she asks me, and I let go of her hands to fetch my shotgun.

“Vertibirds. Enclave. Your father might be in danger.”

Panic replaces the questioning look in her eyes. “We have to help dad.”

We were running back when one of the Enclave soldiers fired plasma rounds at us. I manage to shield my mistress from the onslaught and the hot plasma burns through my armor, exposing my arm. Taking the opportunity, Percy crouches, disappears, and takes out one of the soldiers with her Gauss rifle. I covered her while the panicking soldiers searched for her. We managed to barrel our way through a platoon, and I can hear her sigh of relief when we reached the door to the rotunda.

It was too late when we arrived.

A man who introduced himself as Colonel Autumn was inside the purifier, along with more soldiers in power armor. James was inside, with another scientist in their team. My mistress runs up to Dr. Li, who watches with wary eyes from the other side of the glass.

A shot rang throughout the rotunda. Autumn killed the other scientist.

With no hesitation, Percy and I ran to the entrance of the purifier. She bangs against the glass, calling to her father.

“Dad! Let me in,” she pleads, begs, but her father doesn’t acknowledge her. Gun still pointed at his head, James walked over to the control panel, pressed a few buttons, and then all hell broke loose.

She tried her damn best to pry the blast door open when James locked himself in with the Enclave colonel and radiation started to seep out of the damn chamber. He let his daughter watch as he died a slow and painful death from the radiation, just so she could get away.

She pounded her small fists and threw her shoulder against the glass, but it didn’t budge.

The wild, desperate expression etched on her face will haunt me.

Is that how I looked like when I pounded against the glass?

Was I that afraid to lose her?

February 4, 2278

I was shaken back to reality when the doctor spoke up once more.

“Look, I don’t know about the nature of your relationship with Persephone. I will not pry, and it is not my place to judge, especially after you saved her life. I- I thank you.”

I grunted at her in acknowledgment, and watched as she stood up to glance at Percy one last time.

“Excuse me, I need a small break,” she almost rasps, fatigue evident in her voice, and she shuffles out the door.

Time passed for I don’t know how long, and with a groan, I stood from my usual place at the foot of Percy’s bed and checked the time on her Pip-Boy. She taught me how to operate it in case she gets incapacitated. 00:03. Already past midnight. My legs fell asleep sitting all day, so I walked around in the room. As I pass by the door, I can hear voices on the other side.

“Patient Persephone Zhou’s test results are abnormal,” I hear a scribe say. “Cellular regeneration is remarkable despite lethal radiation exposure. No …”

I press my ear hole against the door upon hearing my partner’s name. I didn’t dare make a single sound.

“She’s being healed by it.”

“Healed? Do you think she’s undergoing… eugh, ghoulification?” one of them says with disgust.

My breath quickens. I wouldn’t wish this… this condition on anyone I cared for. Especially Percy. Not Percy. Rage replaces my anxiousness at the tone of one of the bigots. It has become clear to me that despite all the things my partner did for the Brotherhood, the moment she turns into a walking corpse like me, they’ll be more than happy to dispose of her. I wanted to send the door flying open and strangle the bastards.

But I only kept listening.

“It’s too early to tell. Ghoulification can take years, but at the dose she was exposed to, if it happens, it should be instantaneous. There is no tissue necrosis, and her initial burns are almost healed. We can’t rule it out yet, but there are no symptoms.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“We need to acquire tissue samples. Run tests.”

Footsteps. They’re getting louder. I stop leaning on the door to plant myself firmly on the ground I stand on. The doors swing open, and the scribes almost jump out of their skins when they see me.

“Step aside, ghoul,” one of them spits. The small tremor his hands made while holding the clipboard tells me he’s scared shitless.

“No.”

I take one step towards these bastards and they’re already shouting for backup from the tin cans. Two arrived, but I stood my ground, shotgun in my hands.

“Let the scribes in, zombie,” one of the armored soldiers hissed, pointing her laser rifle at me. “We won’t ask again.”

“What is going on here?” Dr. Li. I lower my shotgun. She’s just in time. I wouldn’t have hesitated to open fire if she didn’t come.

“We’re just here for nightly rounds on the patient-” one of them starts, but Dr. Li waves her hand, dismissing them.

“I am responsible for the well-being of Miss Zhou. The Brotherhood only lent you scribes to assist me, and I don’t need assistance right now. Now please, stop disturbing my patient,” she snaps, the authority in her voice making the haughty scribes back off. I couldn’t help the small, upward tug at the corner of my mouth. Serves you bastards right.

“Call me on the intercom if they pester you again. I need to take Persephone’s blood pressure.”

“They said something about taking samples from her,” I spoke up, and the doctor’s head whips towards my direction.

“Damn them,” she mutters. “Thank you for telling me. Do not, under any circumstances, let them.”

One of my eyebrows cock at the doctor’s orders. “Is there anything I should know?”

Dr. Li stops, sighs, and turns to face me. “With James gone, I know she has no one else but you. I’d prefer if Persephone is lucid and away from this place if I was to breach this topic. Please, you have to understand. It’s unsafe here.”

I nodded at her, and she exhales slowly, unwrapping a pack of bandages to tend to what little burns Percy has left on her.

As I watch the doctor tend to Percy, her words play over and over in my head.

“She has no one else but you.”

[anxresi]

Chloe’s Last Straw

Synopsis: 

Chloe is guilty of many things in her life. But not this. Never this. So when her mother says something unforgivable to a person she'd usually consider an enemy, it's up to her to put things right. Grab your popcorn folks, and get ready for a roasting. Written for Blackout Tuesday.

..............................

Caline Bustier sighed in exasperation, wondering how her once promising career as an educator had stuck her with this… the most ill-disciplined, out-of-control bunch of students she’d ever had to guide since her formative years as a kindergarten coordinator.

But even those young rapscallions had some level of respect for their elders, whereas the current batch of alleged ‘maturer’ teens…

They couldn’t even raise their heads for role-call in the morning.

“Max! Stop playing with that flying toy this second ! Mylene, Ivan… you can kiss each other during recess! Return to your desks now ! Nathanael! Put down those pencils and listen to me! Lila, I know you said you suffer from ADHD, but until I see a doctor’s note, I expect you to respond immediately when I call your name! Honestly, it’s like trying to herd cats! And where on Earth are…”

“I’m here! I’m here!!” As if in answer to her request, Adrien Agreste bustled in just then, out-of-breath and apparently with a ready-made excuse to explain his absence. “Dawn fashion shoot… then piano recital… early morning practice… stop me falling behind. A-Apologies Miss Bustier… you know how it is with my father…”

“Hmm, yes… I’m afraid I do .” The frowning teacher gave an understanding nod, for Gabriel Agreste’s huge expectations for his son often led to constant late arrivals for his son. “I would say ‘try not to let it happen again’, but something tells me it’s out of my hands. Oh well, at least you haven’t missed any actual lesson time this week. Go and sit down, please. Now I wonder where…”

“ Argh ! S-Sorry Miss! Mom got sick… and usually she handles the morning deliveries… so I had to take a quick detour on my way here… and…” bang

At least, that’s the sound effect there would’ve been, if a stumbling Marinette Dupain-Cheng hadn’t been caught by Adrien on her inevitable descent to the floor. Right place, right time.

Still didn’t stop her blushing like a stoplight though.

“A-Adrien!! Gulp. H-Hi. ” The blunette gave a passable impression of a fish out of water.

“Hey there! F-Funny the places we run into each other, isn’t it?” Adrien seemed equally struck for what he wanted to say.

“ Ahem !” That was the sound of an impatient teacher, who obviously had no romance in her soul and was eager to restart the headcount. “If you two are quite finished with your impromptu act, you can save it for the talent show next month. Take your respective seats so we can get on. Wait…”

Glancing at Adrien And Marinette’s chairs had revealed something unprecedented in the recent history of this hallowed halls of education. In fact, so unbelievable was it, Miss Bustier had to rub her eyes twice just to make sure what she saw wasn’t just another product of her espresso-infused imagination.

For it would appear as though young Agreste and Dupain-Cheng, by some measure the most tardy pupils Caline Bustier had ever known, were not among the last ones to arrive that incredible day.

No, that dubious honor belonged to none other than the students the aforementioned pair shared a desk with, namely Nino Lahiffe and Alya Cesaire.

W-What the… the panicking teacher’s look of astonishment was completely forgivable, as both Marinette and Adrien made good their escape. I’ve never known anything like this to happen before. It’s most unlike them. I just hope they’re okay. Maybe, if they’re not here soon, I should ask the headmaster if…

Miss Bustier’s short soliloquy was interrupted by an unpleasant shrieking noise as a familiar pair strode in. The high-pitched noise made the hairs on her neck stand on end and shattered the formerly serene atmosphere of the classroom once and for all.

“ Dahling . You know I wouldn’t go back to New York without saying goodbye to my precious Coraline, don’t you sweetheart? I might be away for quite a while this time, even past Christmas, but you understand, right? If I’m not there to personally introduce my new range of spangly negligees to the world at Fashion Week, my competitors might steal my thunder! I might even be bumped off the front page of Vogue! And you remember what I’ve told you every day, since the blessed occasion you were born, whenever that was…”

“Yes, mother. ‘If you’re not somebody, then you’re nobody.’ I get it. But do you ‘get’: my name isn’t ‘Coraline’, it’s Chloe . Coraline is that so-called kids movie we saw years ago, the one that was so scary I nearly wet… you know what, n-never mind.”

The loud screech of Audrey Bourgeois’s voice was almost enough to give poor Miss Bustier a migraine, as if the prospect of trying to teach her disruptive daughter good manners wasn’t difficult enough. Why did this have to be the one day I forgot to bring my aspirin to class with me? Tell me, what did I do to deserve this? Did I walk under a ladder yesterday? Did I crack a mirror, or step on a gypsy’s foot by mistake? Please, if I am cursed for whatever reason, let me know how I can fix it. For the love of…

“Mrs Bourgeois! What an unple… u-unexpected pleasure!” The rapidly unraveling teacher put on her fakest, friendliest face to welcome the surprise guest. “How are you? When was the last time we met? I seem to recall it was at the salon…”

“What was that? Who is this strange person heckling me, dear?” Audrey pulled down her shades to stare closer, as Chloe whispered in her mom’s ear. “Oh yes, your public school educator. Still with the red hair I see, ugh . Yes, I remember… I told her to dye her roots blonde like me if she wanted a better job than the impossible task of instructing these degenerates. Because as we all know: ‘blondes have more fun’. Isn’t that right, Chlorine?”

Whether Chloe was still sore from Audrey getting her name wrong twice now, or just plain embarrassed by her female parent’s condescending behavior, who knows. She didn’t repeat her mother’s mantra again like last time though, and instead stood there nervously with her hands in her chino pockets, portraying quite an un-Chloe lack of confidence.

“Well anyway, if you simply must know Miss… Bustier, was it?” An uninterested Audrey inquired, proving the rumor true that her daughter’s name was the only one she regularly forgot. “I was just seeing my precious off, before catching the afternoon plane to uptown New York. It’s just wonderful there in the summer, with all the glitterati in attendance for the various functions. You really must try it, darling… oh sorry I forgot: on your meager salary, it might prove to be an impossible dream. Still, we can’t all be as ridiculously wealthy as me and my husband, can we?”

“Y-Yes, I suppose so.” Miss Bustier desperately kept her sentences as short as possible. She didn’t want the dreadful woman to stay there a second longer than absolutely necessary. “W-Well, I don’t want to keep you, if you have things you need to…”

“So, these are the local children you go to school with, dear?” Deciding she was tired with Miss Bustier’s ‘rambling’, a bored Audrey fixed a critical eye over the classroom. “Well, I must say, I’ve seen far better. A poor crop if ever there was one… why your father refused to let you be privately educated is beyond me. I suspect it’s because he wants to boost his election prospects by letting you ‘mingle with the common folk’, but is it really worth it? I hate to think the effect such distasteful surroundings must be having on your delicate young mind.”

Outraged gasps erupted from all around the room, and if Chloe could’ve jumped into a fifty-foot hole never to emerge, she likely would’ve done so with relish. Alas, this was not an option, and so once more the twitching girl was forced to deal with the consequences of her mother’s shameless arrogance and total lack of volume control.

But just as even the usually docile Miss Bustier was about to say something stronger to defend her visibly irritated students, the last two attendees emerged through the door, puffing and panting as they arrived at long last. Also noticeably, covered in what can only be described as black oil stains.

First up was Nino Lahiffe, who paused slightly to catch his breath and adjust his cap. Then came his girlfriend Alya Cesaire just behind, who despite being pretty exhausted herself, began to speak “N-Nino’s dad gave us a lift, but the car broke down. We had to help him fix it…”

Suddenly Audrey Bourgeois, obviously on a roll, glanced behind her with a pronounced sneer. Upon seeing the pair in question, her expression of disapproval grew even more pronounced…

And what she said next was truly shocking. Except, maybe not her.

“Who might these ‘people’ be, then? While I think it’s laudable you’ll let just about anyone into these types of schools Bustier, I hope you realize some individuals can’t be taught. Just look at those hopeless youths, for example. Obviously from a rough neighborhood, probably down to one parent each, deprived of everything to judge by their filthy clothing, and they can’t even be in class on time. Probably wasting their lives on the street listening to ‘wrap’ music, or whatever it’s called. As if this sort even need an education, in their future careers as minimum wage cleaners or drug-dealers. Really dear, you’d be better off kicking them out and investing in school uniforms instead…”

“ That’s enough !!”

Stunned faces all around. Jaws dropping to the floor. A few people on the verge of fainting, at the identity of the person who uttered those two screamed words.

It wasn’t Miss Bustier, who was prepared to declare her response by more physical means (a hard fist to the face of an unrepentant bigoted snob, if you must know).

Not Alya, who looked just about ready to burst into tears, being held by her apoplectic boyfriend  in his arms (otherwise, he might’ve formed an unstoppable tag-team with his teacher to kick some serious a**).

The surprise shouter was none other than Chloe Bourgeois, who having finally been pushed to her absolute limit at her mother’s complete lack of respect for anyone besides her own reflection, had finally snapped.

And boy, was it something to behold.

“Mom, as I’m sure anyone who isn’t you would agree, I’ve put up with a lot over the years. The insults. The dirty looks. Long absences. Always getting my name wrong. Never telling me you love me. Raising me to think ‘sacking’ anyone who disagrees with you is permissible behavior. I can tolerate all this and more, but there is one thing where I must draw the line. You want to know what that is?”

“ Must we get into this now, dear? You know I like first pick of the best VIP seats…” There Mrs Bourgeois went again, thinking this was just another conversation where she could brush off her daughter’s genuine concerns.

Well, in this case, she was about to get ‘schooled’ (pun not intended).

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s racism Mom, plain and simple, and I won’t stand for it! Whatever problems I might’ve had with Alya and Nino in the past, and believe me there’s been plenty, I’ve never treated them differently due to the color of their skin! How shallow can you get?! And coming from me, this is the biggest of big deals!”

It was as if someone had lit a fuse underneath Audrey’s designer shoes, as the formerly unflappable woman suddenly recoiled in shock. “W-What… well I never ! How could you say such terrible things to me, Chlorophyll? Why, if you weren’t my own flesh and blood, I’d sue you on the spot! I’ll have you know, some of my best workers are blac…”

“Yeah, ‘workers’. You just made my point for me. That’s all they are to you, aren’t they? I’ve seen the way you treat them differently to even our other staff, calling them ‘tanned’ and ‘colored’ right to their faces. They don’t say anything because they don’t want to lose their jobs, and shamefully neither do I because frankly, you scare me sometimes. Well, that ends this second . The instant you behave that way again, I’ll be on you like a ton of bricks. Also, do you wanna know something else?”

“H-Huh?” Audrey’s demeanor had abruptly switched from coolness personified to utter confusion. Being called out so blatantly in front of a bunch of ‘underprivileged ragamuffins’ by her petulant child was not on the itinerary today.

“I’ll spoil it for you again. Father hates your attitude even more than I do! Whenever you finish treating the staff like the dirt under your feet, he goes to each one in turn to apologize personally. As well as give them a few extra euros that month, as if that’ll make up for the abuse they have to suffer. But look who I’m talking to! The woman who thinks Chinese and Japanese people are practically the same! And people wonder where I got such a stupid idea from…”

‘I-I…” For the first time in her life, Mrs Bourgeois was completely lost for words. All she could do was stare dumbly and numbly at her irrepressible daughter, as the young girl finished her extended lecture with a flourish.

“Finally, I suppose I should let you know about the head cook at our hotel. You know, the one who you think makes the best meals around for Daddy and his clients at short notice? Or when you have to entertain people, and she puts on a spread that’ll put any other caterer in the city to shame? That’s Mrs Cesaire, the mother of Alya over there. How do you think she’s going to feel, when she hears you racially insulted her daughter so terribly in front of her entire class? I don’t know, but if I were you I’d check my food for signs of saliva for a while. Also, put your lawyers on stand-by, because I think it may be heading for court. And if you want to know who’s side I’ll be on, here’s a clue…”

At this juncture, Chloe put her mouth to her now trembling mother’s ear to whisper sharply:

“...It won’t be yours!”

That was all it took for Mrs Audrey Bourgeois to collapse on the floor, in such a comatose state that not even the strongest smelling salts around could revive her in the foreseeable future.

...Not that anyone really wanted to do that, of course. Even the school nurse balked at helping someone who’d been so vile to the innocent students there. So, in an unconscious heap on the floor she stayed.

In the end, she missed her flight and the free expensive champagne on offer. Oh dear. How sad. Never mind.

As for Chloe, having said her piece and blithely sauntered over to her seat next to Sabrina afterwards, she was most surprised by the deafening cheer that subsequently erupted, as well as the much better treatment she got for an entire week afterwards by everyone present (even from Marinette).

As unusual as her newfound popularity was though…

She could quite easily get used to it.

If only she could master this whole ‘being nice’ thing.

..............................

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Remember everyone, having White Privilege isn’t just about paying lip service to the concerns of minorities and posting black squares and hashtags one Tuesday to show you care…

It’s about using your advantageous platform all year round to speak up to defend those in need, whoever they are. After all. if activism was just listening to others whilst doing precisely nothing to change the world outside the confines of social media, how are we gonna change the world?

Food for thought. Hope you enjoyed the story, which (I hope) got the point across well enough. Whatever you think, let me know… and thanks for reading! :)