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littlemixnet · 3 years

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To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

#jade thirlwall #lgbt

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ilikefandoms · 4 years

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Family Dinner - Robby Keene

Request - Hi, it's me again. You could write something in which the reader and Robby are in a secret relationship and Daniel notices that boy's passionate gaze and is curious to know who the mysterious young woman is who was leaving him like this, then asks him to invite her to a family dinner . It turns out that Daniel didn't even imagine that this girl was the golden student of Cobra Kai, almost as relentless as Tory and Samantha's number one rival. Throughout dinner, the reader does her best not to provoke a scene, even with Sam's indiscreet insinuations about her being a bad person and to make matters worse, a conversation about sexual orientation arises in a very prejudiced way from Louie and she is extremely offended after a prejudiced comment about bisexuality (she is bisexual, Robby knows and accepts this), Daniel ends up being faster and goes after her, the two talk very cute (almost father and daughter) and the two end up giving each other very well . Anyway, after all that mixture of emotions that was the night, Robby takes the reader home which leads to a lot of affection and kisses on her part (deep down, under that badass exterior she is just a big monster of affection ❤). Sorry if it took too long hahaha.

Pronouns used - She/Her

A/N - Disclaimer: I do not agree with anything that Louie says in this, it is purely for the storyline. I also kinda made Sam look like a bad guy...sorry Sam.

Warnings - Louie being a biphobic asshole, language

Word Count - 1593

You and Robby had a somewhat 'secret relationship'. You had both decided not to tell anyone, considering the rivalry between your respective dojos. Anyway, you were enjoying spending time with Robby alone.

Daniel had begun to get suspicious though. He had noticed that Robby had been acting different than usual, smiling at his phone, and getting home later. Daniel had made the fair assumption that Robby was in fact, seeing someone.

He had not-so subtilty brought up the question in conversation, taking Robby aback. Robby had admitted it though, and Mr Larusso had asked to meet this ‘Mystery Girl’, and asked Robby to invite you to family dinner.

So, here you were standing outside the Larusso’s house, having just texted Robby that you were here. You didn’t want Sam answering the door.

Robby opened the door, “Hey babe, why didn’t you knock?”

“I didn’t want Sam or someone opening it to see me,” you shrugged, “I’m just nervous I guess, what with mine and Sam’s rivalry, with Cobra Kai. Everything,”

Robby wrapped his arms around you, “It’s gonna be ok, alright. If it ends up being too awkward or whatever, we can leave,” he reassured.

“Thank you,”

He kissed your cheek, “Anytime. Ready to go in?” you nodded. Robby placed his hand in yours, and you walked in.

The Larusso’s house was beautiful, it had off-white walls, a mixture of hardwood and patterned flooring, and large windows. It was probably one of the nicest houses you’d ever been in.

“Hey Robby,” Amanda Larusso approached you, “This must be your girlfriend. I’m Amanda,”

“Y/N,” you said.

“it’s so great to meet you, Robby’s told us so much about you!” She said - even if this wasn’t true.

“No he hasn’t,” you said, with a weak chuckle.

“Okay, well... that’s true, but I hope to get to know you more today. Okay, we are eating outside today as it is a lovely night. Everyone else is already out there, make yourselves at home, and dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she said, smiling.

You both thanked her, before heading outside to where everyone was talking. “Hey everyone,” Robby made your presence known.

“Hey Robby!” Daniel greeted, before laying his eyes on you, when his smile faded. It was no secret that you were the Golden Student of Cobra Kai, you had even been known to take Miguel and Tory in fights, and of course...Sam.

“What is she doing here?” Sam exclaimed, gesturing towards you.

Your grip on Robby’s hand tightened. You had expected this, so you decided to stand your ground, “I was invited,” you asserted.

“Who would invite you here?” Sam asked with narrowed eyes.

“Sam,” Robby said, in an attempt to calm her down.

It was at this point that her eye’s travelled down to where yours and Robby’s hands were enlaced. “Don’t tell me you’re actually dating this bitch,”

“Sam!” Daniel scolded, and just before an argument could come out, Mrs Larusso arrived, holding trays of food.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, her eyebrows raised.

“No, mom. We’re fine,” Sam said, partially through gritted teeth.

**********

There had been evident silence since dinner had started, it was starting to get annoying, how Sam was giving you death glares from across the table. Anthony was doing the same, although he was just probably copying what Sam was doing.

Amanda then decided to break the silence, asking you a question “So, Y/N how did you and Robby meet?”

“We met at the skate park. Robby was tried to do a new trick, but it went wrong and his board ended up flying in my direction, he apologised, we started talking, and...here we are,” you replied, giving her a smile.

“Oh that’s sweet, and from what little Robby has said, you do karate?” she questioned.

“Yeah, I do,” you said, purposefully not saying your dojo’s name - even if Sam and Mr Larusso knew, you wanted to keep the dojo rivalry to a minimum.

“She’s top of her class as well,” Robby added, “She can easily beat me in a fight,”

“Only because you fight dirty,” Sam uttered underneath her breath.

You ignored her, “I wouldn’t say easily,” you protested, “But, yeah I can totally kick your ass,” you said, letting out a small laugh. Sam rolled her eyes

“Wow, that’s really impressive. What dojo do you go to,” Mrs Larusso asked.

“Oh, um, Cobra Kai,” you said, somewhat trailing off towards the end.

“Oh. Okay, is this why this dinner is being so awkward?” she said, and no-one answered, “Obviously it is,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t they the dojo that dislocated Robby’s shoulder?” Louie asked.

“Technically that was just Hawk,” Robby defended.

“Still doesn’t excuse their shitty teaching methods,” Sam said quietly.

Your hand balled into a fist. Her snarky comments were starting to fuel your anger. Robby placed his hand over yours, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles - an action that he knew calmed you, and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Y/N, are you new to town? I can’t recall seeing you anywhere,” Amanda questioned, seemingly ignoring her daughters comments.

“Yeah, I only moved here 6 months ago. My mom got a new job,” you explained.

“Oh, what does you mom do?"

“She’s a real estate agent,” you replied.

“Oh, that’s cool,”

**********

Conversation slowly picked up from there, although that didn’t stop Sam from making remarks. It was like she was trying to get people to think you were a bad person, saying stuff like ‘Dad, I’m glad that you taught me and Robby the right way of karate’.

It was honestly taking a toll on you, you had to work hard to make a good impression, and not act out and make a scene.

“Mom, did I tell you that Moon has a girlfriend now?” Sam asked her mother.

“Oh, that’s lovely,”

“Yeah, it’s this Piper. She’s nice,” she explained.

“Moon is the girl that was dating that Hawk guy?” Louie butted in.

“Yeah,”

“Was she just gay all along then?”

“No, she’s just bisexual,” Sam said, furrowing her eyebrows at Louie’s question.

“Sam, come on. Bisexuality isn’t real,” you fists balled as Louie continued, “People are either gay or straight, you can’t like both, that’s just... unnatural,”

“Fuck this!” You yelled. You rose from your seat, and stormed out of the back yard.

“Louie, what the fuck?” Sam, and Amanda said in unison. Robby sat there glaring at Louie for a few seconds, before standing up to go after you. Daniel put a hand on his shoulder, and muttered an “I’ll go,” and went after you. Meanwhile, Amanda was kicking Louie out of the house, using language she would never use in front of her kids in any other sort of situation.

Daniel ran after you. “Y/N! Wait,”

“What do you want?” you said, wiping tears that had escaped.

“Look, I’m sorry for what Louie said. If it’s any consolation, Amanda is shouting at him, and kicking him out,” he stated.

“You can’t control what he said. It’s not your fault,”

“I know, but I’m still sorry, and I’m also sorry for what Sam has been saying. I know you two have your rivalry...thing, but it shouldn’t have come up,”

“Yeah, thanks,” you nodded.

“You did well for handling it as well as you did, had that of been me, I would’ve thrown hands,” he said, impressed.

“Oh, trust me I wanted to. It just doesn’t give off a good impression if you beat the shit out of the people your boyfriend’s living with,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, well I guess not,” he smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well like, I’m a part of Cobra Kai. I’ve been in fights with your daughter, I’m not what people call the best ‘influence’ on people. Need I say more?” you said

“I see your point, but Robby trusts you. I’ve seen him improve since you two have been together, he seems happier, and if he trusts you, then I do too,” he explained.

“Thank you Mr Larusso,” you said, smiling at him.

“No problem kid,” he smiled back, “Now, if you want to stay for dessert, we have ice cream,” he offered.

“I think I’d just rather go home, if that’s okay,” you said.

“That’s totally fine, alright? I’ll go get Robby to take you home?”

“Yes please,” you said, “Thank you,”

“Your welcome. I’ll see you soon,”

“Bye”

Robby came out a minute after Daniel had left, and immediately hugged you, “Are you okay?” he mumbled.

“I will be. I just want to go home,” you replied.

“Okay, lets go, yeah?” he asked. You replied by nodding your head, yes.

**********

You and Robby had arrived at your house, and he walked you up to the front door. “Can you stay with me?” you asked.

“Yeah of course,”

You both made your way up the stairs and into your room. You grabbed some comfy clothes, and changed in the bathroom, before coming back to Robby.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.

“A little. Can we cuddle?”

He just laid down in your bed, and opened his arms for you to lay in. You positioned yourself in his arms so your head was on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart beating.

Robby kissed the top of your head. You shifted your head to look up at him. He kissed your lips.

You knew that this boy would be the death of you.

@blackoutgirx

#robby cobra kai imagine #robby keene x reader #robby keene imagine #robby keene #robby cobra kai #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai #daniel larusso #sam larusso #amanda larusso #miyagi do

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trilliastra · 3 years

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[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

#sterek #eternalsterek #teen wolf #my fic #HELLO GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH A STEREK FIC #IT ME #surprised? me too

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certain-as-the-sun · 4 years

Text

Desire

Desire: Companion piece to Hey Jealousy and Love Me Anyway. Inspired by “Desire” by Ryan Adams

Two hearts fading, like a flower And all this waiting, for the power For some answer, to this fire Sinking slowly, the waters higher Mmm, Desire Desire

So much had changed. Adam was back. Adam was sober. And she was happy. Belle was excited about the future for the first time in nearly six years. They had agreed that for the first three months of their newly reformed relationship they would not spend the night together. When they said goodnight at the end of their night they would go to their respective homes. Even Dr. Porter, their therapist, agreed that making intimacy boundaries would be in their best interests. She recommended that they treat their new relationship as if they were back in the Regency period. Belle giggled at the thought of dating at their age with a chaperone. Lumiere was more than happy to act in that role.

“Pop, you don’t have to sit directly behind us like we’re sixteen,” Adam said when they went to a movie. “You can sit a few rows back.”

Another time they were snuggled on the sofa watching TV and Cogsworth tapped Adam on the head with a flyswatter. “Break it up. Leave room for Jesus.”

Their antics annoyed Adam, but to Belle it was sweet. It also made her sad to know that her own father wasn’t there to give them grief. Maurice hadn’t always liked Adam but he did believe that the boy would one day get his head on straight. It took some time but it seemed like he had finally gotten his shit together. Maurice would be so proud of him.

Belle decided that morning that tonight was the night. Three months had passed since he came back into her life. Three months of twice a week sessions with Dr. Porter, one with Adam and one without. With Dr. Porter's help, she was able to let go of some of the deeply ingrained anger she felt towards Adam. She loved him. That was an undeniable fact. But letting him back in all the way didn't come as naturally as it had the first time. He'd left scars behind, and as much as she wanted to pretend they weren't there, she had to work through them before opening the door again. Talking with Dr. Porter had been so healing. She was ready.

There was a giddy excitement about tonight, and she had a few things to do to get ready for it.

Her first stop was to the mall. She stood in front of the small lingerie shop. Belle wore modest and practical undergarments most of the time. Nothing too flashy or fancy. The only person she wanted to see her in her skivvies hadn’t been a factor for years. Now he was back. Now she needed something that was so unlike her it would make his heart stop. Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath she stepped inside.

Unlike Victoria’s Secret and the other “trashy” lingerie shops Belle was familiar with, Madame Garderobe’s shop was filled with soft colors and vanilla. Belle browsed the racks unsure of where to start. An older woman stepped out from behind the curtain and smiled at her new customer.

“Ah cherie, welcome,” she said. “How can I help?”

“Well, um, it’s my—it’s a long story,” Belle stammered. “It’s the first time my boyfriend and I are going to be together after a long separation.”

The older woman looked Belle up and down. “I see. And what look are we going for? Seductive temptress? No. Smoldering sin? No that’s not right either.” She fussed around a display and came back with several items that Belle couldn’t name or figure out how they went on.

“Since this is your first time in a long time,” she said, a delightful French accent giving her voice a delightful air of sophistication. “He must work for his prize. Come, come.”

Without a second to process what was happening, Madame had Belle in the large dressing room. “We want to mimic the first time he saw you in this way,” Madame said, helping Belle out of her dress.

“It was a perfect moment in time,” Belle said. “Adam, he was my first. My only.”

With no secrets, no obsession This time I'm speeding, with no direction Without a reason, what is this fire? Burning slowly, my one and only Mmm, Desire Desire Desire Desire

They had been dating exclusively for nearly three months. Signs for the spring formal had been popping up for the last week. Parties and school dances had never been something on Belle’s radar. But now that she was with Adam, she thought it might not be so bad. She didn’t want to come straight out and tell him she wanted them to go to the dance. She wanted him to figure it out on his own.

It took a bit. Subtle hints from his dads. Walking past signs in the hallway she made casual conversation about the dance. About two weeks before the dance was to happen, it finally clicked.

“Hey Pop?” Adam asked Lumiere. “What’s the best way to ask Belle to the spring formal?”

“Looks like Hatter wins the pool,” Cogsworth laughed from behind his newspaper. “We have been nudging you to ask Belle for weeks.”

“Am I too late?” Adam asked.

“No, but you need to ask her soon,” Lumiere said. Then he brought Adam under his arm and whispered, “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Adam met Belle outside the library where she spent most of her morning before classes started. He had cut six roses from Cogsworth’s garden and made them into a small bouquet with Lumiere’s help. Two red, two pink and two yellow wrapped in green florist tape and accented with a yellow ribbon.

“What are these for?” Belle asked, putting them to her nose.

“Because I’m an idiot,” he said, taking her hand. “Belle, would you do me the great honor of allowing me to escort you to the spring formal?”

Belle smiled and burst into giggles at his formal request. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Most girls at their school had been planning their spring formal looks since Christmas. So there wasn’t a lot to choose from at the various dress shops in town. She drove to the next town over and in a small bridal shop she found her dress. It was made of soft yellow gold silk. The bodice had a deep plunge, the modesty protected by a lace of off yellow that sat off the shoulders and down to elbow length sleeves. The skirt was full and had two layers; one to form a base and the other flounced and fluttered when she spun. A belt of hand embroidered flowers sat at her waist. It was far too grand a dress for a high school formal. But Belle loved it. It fit perfectly and wasn’t out of her price range.

The dance was held at the local country club, where several of the upper class students’ families held memberships. For an extra fee, students could arrive early to the dance and enjoy a sit down dinner and dessert before the party got started. Never a fan of fancy food like what would be served, Belle and Adam chose to eat at a local place they loved. It was owned by a friend of Hatter’s who only hired people who needed a fresh start in their lives. It wasn’t a fancy place but it was theirs.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Adam said, kissing Belle’s hand. “I’m so glad I can call you mine.”

Belle shyly smiled and looked away. No one had ever called her stunning before. People said she was very pretty, beautiful even. Before she and her father had moved to Molyneaux she had been approached by several people claiming to be talent agents and wanted to sign her to modeling contracts. She never took them up on them because one, they were likely scams and two she couldn’t bear to be away from her father.

Because of Adam’s issues, as his dads called it, they didn’t like him driving. It had taken a great deal of convincing, promising, and reassurance from Adam that he would never endanger Belle like that. For Adam, Belle meant more to him than his addiction. Cogsworth trusted his son to behave himself for the night, and allowed Adam to drive to the dance. Producing all the gentlemanly qualities that Belle’s literary romantic heroes possessed, Adam offered his arm to her when they stood up from the table. When she shivered slightly stepping out into the night air, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. He opened the car door for her, assisted in making sure all of her dress was free of the door before closing it.

The Spring Formal was already in full swing by the time Adam and Belle arrived. The ballroom of the country club was decked out in blue and golds, the school colors, tables surrounded the dance floor centerpieces of yellow and white roses. The lights were low and the live band made it seem all the more magical. Adam and Belle claimed spots at a table and made their way around the room to take in everything. The Spring Formal was the last big event for the seniors before graduation. Teachers guarded the punch bowl like it was holy water. Given his reputation, Adam never went up to the bowl alone. Not that he would spike the punch. He may be an alcoholic, that didn’t mean he wanted to ruin the night for everyone else. That didn’t stop people from coming up to him asking if he brought anything.

A slow song began and Adam took Belle’s hand and they took a spot on the dance floor. Having gay dads, one who was literally a cabaret owner and professional ballroom dancer at one point in his life, Adam had learned to dance and dance well. While he was content to just stand with Belle in his arms, her head on his chest as the rose in her hair tickling his nose, he did have some moves.

Belle, a lover of old movies, was more than willing to try something more than their peers were doing. Sweeping her across the floor, careful to not collide with other members of their class, they danced. He loved the way she felt in his arms. He didn’t know when he fell in love with her but he knew he had. He loved her.

Belle kept waiting to hear her alarm go off. That this night with Adam was nothing more than a wonderful dream. He held her close to him, not wanting to let her go. He was so sure of himself, so unlike him. Adam was dear and unsure of himself most of the time. She knew what a struggle it was for him to maintain his sobriety. As they got annoyed with bumping into people, he held her close. She rested her head on his chest, easy to do as he was so tall and broad. How right this all felt.

They retreated back to their table for water and to just be with each other. Belle had never been one to venture out for school activities. She was studious and serious. Adam was her first serious relationship. She loved being with him. She knew he had a past, who didn’t. But his past was darker than any she had known. They spent hours cuddled together just talking. Adam loved having someone to talk to that wasn’t at a meeting, a therapist, his sponsor Hatter or his dads. Belle was so kind and gentle while she listened to the horror stories he had in his life. Her life was a walk in the clouds compared to his.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Adam asked, taking her hands. “I know you’d rather it just be us. We can go to the park or back to my house. The dads are at some function. We’d have the place to ourselves.”

“I’d like that,” Belle said, smiling. “Let me freshen up and I’ll be right back. Then we can go.”

Adam sat at their table watching the others when Gaston slid into the seat next to him, taking a silver flask out of his jacket pocket.

“You look like you could use a pick me up, buddy,” Gaston said, holding out the flask. “Can’t be easy with that stuck up bitch.”

“Belle’s not a bitch,” Adam said. “Don’t call her that.”

“Touchy,” Gaston laughed, taking a drink on his own. “It’s Stoli.”

“Not tonight,” Adam said watching for Belle.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone dry again. Man, that bitch has her claws in deep.”

“I’m not going to tell you again, Gaston. Don’t talk about her like that. Belle is my girlfriend now and I won’t sit by and listen to you call her names.”

“There was a time when you were calling her all sorts of things. Talking about how you’d do it once you got her where you wanted her.” Gaston was baiting Adam now. He knew how his former friend ticked. It wouldn’t take long. “You were quite vivid.”

“That was before,” Adam said. He knew what Gaston was doing. He wouldn’t fall into it. “Belle’s different. She’s not like the other sluts we used to fuck.”

“You certainly have taken your time with this one. By now you’d have loved and left them. What are you waiting for?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?”

“Come on man,” Gaston continued to prod. “What’s the scam?”

“There’s no scam, you dick.”

“With you, there’s always a scam. Seriously, though. You have fucked her right? A girl like that must be a nasty little freak between the sheets.” Gaston looked up and saw the golden goddess walking towards Adam.

“Oh totally,” Adam said, his voice deadpan, thick with sarcasm. “You should hear how she screams my name with every thrust. Can’t wait to hear it tonight.”

Gaston’s face fell and he started to hold back a laugh. “What is so goddamn…?” Fuck. “She’s standing right behind me?”

“This is going down as one of your best fuck ups,” Gaston exploded in laughter. Too bad there weren't more people around to hear it.

“The only thing you’ll be hearing tonight, Adam Benson is the sound of your right hand arguing with your left!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. She had never been so humiliated by anyone like that in her life. Lifting the hem of her gown she started to run, sort of, out of the ballroom.

“You asshole,” Adam scowled at his former friend. “Belle! Belle, wait!” He ran after her and caught up with her in the corridor between the ballroom and foyer. He took her elbow trying to get her to stop. “Belle, please. That wasn’t what it sounded like.”

“Don’t touch me!” she yanked her arm back, wrapping herself in a hug. “How dare you talk about me like that? What is wrong with you?”

“Belle, please. He was being an ass. I only said that to shut him up,” he stood in front of her and ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean a word of that.”

“Certainly sounded like you meant it!”

“Belle, baby, no. I can still feel the sting of the slap you rewarded me with when I got fresh.” He needed to close the gap between them. Make this right. “I would never treat you like that. You mean more to me than anything. I...I love you.”

Wiping the tears from her face. What did he just say? “You love me?”

“This wasn’t the way I planned on saying it,” Adam said, reaching for her hand. “But yes, Belle. I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice, the hope in his eyes. He really means it. He loves me. Unsure of her own feelings, she stepped closer and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, and she felt like she was home.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he whispered in her ear.

He kept his arm around her waist as they walked out to the car. This wasn’t how he wanted their night to go. Why had he let Gaston get his goat like that?

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked once they were in the car.

Belle looked out the window before answering. “No. I’m sorry I overreacted. I know you. You and Gaston used to be friends, he was trying to get to you and chose me as bait.”

He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Gaston’s an idiot. I’m just sorry you got dragged into it.”

Belle held his hand the entire drive from the country club. Is that what Adam is expecting tonight? “Adam?”

“What is it?” he answered.

“What do you expect to happen tonight? Once we reach your house?”

“Nothing that you don’t want,” Adam answered. “I love you, Belle. I would never do anything that you don’t explicitly ask for. It’s not how I roll.”

Belle wasn’t convinced. He seemed all too at ease talking the way he had with Gaston. But then her mind went to his actions. He never put his hands on her unless he asked first and she agreed. They had their boundaries and he never crossed them. She could trust him with this. She couldn’t always trust other choices he would make but being intimate with her, it felt right.

Cogsworth and Lumiere were still out when they got back to his house. He parked the car in its spot and helped Belle out of the car, making sure not to step on her dress. They came into the sitting room, as Cogsworth called it. Adam took off his suit jacket and laid it across the top of the antique Queen Anne chair. He squatted down in front of the fireplace and flipped the switch that ignited the flames, adjusting them so they were just right. With nothing more than the firelight to cast a glow on Belle in her golden gown, Adam felt his breath hitch at the sight.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

There was a time when being called “mine” by a boy would have sent a shiver down Belle’s spine. She wasn’t raised to believe all she was worth was to belong to some man. With Adam, the way he claimed her as his, made her feel safe, protected. She could take care of herself and she could trust he’d know just when to step in.

You know me, you know my way You just can't show me, but God I'm praying That you'll find me, and that you'll see me That you'll run and never tire

She laid on the chaise lounge looking so much like the cover of a cheesy romance novel. He sat on the edge like a knight in shining armor and bent over her. “A kiss for you, milady?”

“But of course,” she smiled, playing along. She lifted her head to meet his kiss. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and deepened the kiss. Pulling him down on top of her, drinking him in. Wrapping him in her arms, they closed the gap between them. Adam rested on his elbows on either side of her, his body covering hers.

He pulled the rose from her hair when it poked him in the eye. He then disentagled the headband from her perfectly curled hair. He drew his hands down her arms, the lace tickling his palms.

“Help me out of this dress,” Belle said, breathlessly. “I want you, Adam.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted her up into his arms and with a practiced ease he found the zipper of her dress and gently pulled it down. Kissing down her neck and collarbone he eased her arms out of the sleeves. They stood together and he gathered the layers of the skirt in his hands and eased it over her head to not mess up her hair too much. He laid the gown over the Queen Anne chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

Belle shivered, standing in front of Adam in nothing more than a long line bra, panties and her shoes. Shyly she used her arms to cover herself, stepping out of her heels and pushing them away. “Would it help, if I took off some layers too, ma cherie?”

“Immensely,” Belle answered, licking her lips. She stepped closer to him, her fingers undoing each button of his vest and then to his shirt. Each muscle of his chest stood out. Running her hands over him, she couldn’t believe he was real. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders she pressed kisses to his chest. She loved the feel of him under her fingers and the shivers he gave when she kissed him. She traced her fingers over his stomach and down to the distinct V of his hips. Her hands settled on his belt and paused.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this,” he whispered into her hair. “You can wear my shirt and we can just lie together.”

She silenced him with another kiss, undid his belt and opened his pants. “I want all of you Adam Benson.”

Their touches ignited a passion in them that has only simmered and licked at them before. He shrugged out of his shirt and vest letting them hit the floor. Then he gathered Belle into his arms, holding her close as their mouths explored each other. She drew back and moved his hands, placing them on her chest. “Touch me.”

It took some fiddling but he managed to unhook her bra and let it slip off into the pile of clothing on the floor of the sitting room. Guiding her back to the chaise lounge, he laid her down and covered her with his body, shielding her from the world. Her knees instinctively parted for him. He still had too much on. She pushed at the top of his pants. She needed him to be as bare as she was. His pants and the simple, plain black boxers came down with them, freeing his growing hardness.

He’d been with other girls before but none filled him with such passion as Belle did. The others had sparked a lust that burned out as soon as they had finished. Belle had a beauty to her that shone through. The golden gown had only enhanced that in her. But bare beneath him, her gasps of pleasure as he touched her, only intensified the feeling.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his hands on her hips. “Belle?”

“Make love to me Adam,” she whispered, guiding his hands to remove the last article of clothing she had on. “Love me.”

He slipped the underwear off. His hand traced her folds, how he loved her. Belle spread her legs more, to allow Adam to explore her at his leisure. She let a soft moan escape her lips as his fingers traced the soft skin of her most secret place. He knew he was going to be her first and he would take it nice and slow for her. Kissing her and slowly inserting a single digit inside her, he captured her small gasp with a kiss.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

She stared up at him. “I’m okay,” her small voice said.

He played with her center for a time, loving how she clung to him, her pants and moans driving him to near madness. But it wasn’t about him. It was about her and making her feel like she was the most important person in his life, because she was.

She kissed him, his hand between her thighs bringing her to a place she had never imagined going. Her mind swam with emotion and desire. She raised her hips to meet his hand. She could happily live like this for the rest of her life. Her vision went white and she cried out with a shake and shiver she’d never been able to reach on her own.

“Oh Belle,” his voice reached her ear as she came back down. “Was that for me?”

She took a moment to recover, breathing heavily as the wave of sexual energy left her. She kissed him hard, stroking his cheek. “That was -- fantastic.”

“Are you ready for more?” Adam asked, adjusting himself over her. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Belle said, her hands on his hips. “I want you.”

He entered her slowly, listening to every sound she made. He was slow and gentle, tracing the curve of her face as she stared into his eyes. Gathering her into his arms he sat back and held her in his lap as he moved inside her. It didn’t take long after the change for his face to contort as the need to release overtook him. Holding her tight to him, he came inside her. They laid together in bliss for a moment. She was the first to move. She gathered up his shirt and pulled it around herself. She padded through the house to the bathroom. Adam put his boxers back on and found a blanket for them. He laid back on the chaise lounge waiting for her to come back to him.

She splashed water on her face after cleaning herself up. The trace amount of makeup she wore washed away with the post-coital sweat. She took the rest of her hair down, letting it fall around her shoulders. His shirt, smelling so deeply of him, was three times her size. She came back into the living room and they laid together, covered in the blanket, the firelight dancing on the walls. Their breathing evened out, matching the other and they slowly fell into a rapturous sleep. And that’s how Cogsworth and Lumiere found them when they came home.

Snapping back to the present, the words of Madame brought Belle's attention to that matter at hand.

“We’ll just have to find you something as fantastic as that gown,” Madame said after Belle showed her the gown from the Spring Formal. “Gold is such a perfect color for you.”

They settled on a white satin and lace overbust corset that Madame laced for her that all Belle had to do was use the hooks in the front to put it on. A matching set of garter belt and panties, silk stockings and a gold silk robe from the 1940’s.

“When he sees this, the past will be the past,” Madame Garderobe said, boxing everything up in tissue paper.

Mmm, Desire Desire Desire Desire

#beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast fan fic #desire #companion to hey jealousy and love me anyway #inspired by music

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 3 (Branjie)- Blackhighheels

(Read at AO3)

Three

Jose knows it might not be the best idea to come to this run down bar, but he is bored and he needs a drink. Since he left Los Angeles he hasn’t been to any clubs or bars and this shack is the only thing nearby in the middle of motherfucking nowhere.

The offer is somewhat limited and so he orders a whiskey, since that seems to be the only thing they have beside shots and beer. He remains sitting at the bar and the woman behind it, Lindsey, is a hoot and he likes talking to her. From what she’s telling him she used to be the queen bee around here, about forty years ago, until she got pregnant too young and out of wedlock and found herself working in this bar to keep a roof over her head and care for her son.

He’s so engrossed in Lindsey’s stories that it takes him a while to realise that a couple of guys by the pool table are talking about him. The words ”Faggot”, ”Gay” and ”cocksucker” are a dead give away and he doesn’t think they’d say that about anyone but him around here.

”Hey, assholes! Got a problem with my gay ass?” He yells at them. It might be the alcohol or simply his frustration about the town and what it does to people, but he isn’t willing to just take it and keep him mouth shut. And he’s not afraid of them. He’s had his share of fights in his life, both because of the area he grew up in and also because of him being so obviously gay.

The four men, or boys, come closer and he can already smell the cloud of beer that surrounds them.

”Did you faggot just call us assholes?”

”If you’re the assholes who just talked smack about me, then yeah, I did.” He turns around in his bar stool and is glad that it gives him a bit of a height advantage.

”You better watch your mouth you filthy cocksucker.”

”Mmmh…. Sucking dick’s only filthy when it’s done right. You ever tried it?”

Jose expects a punch or kick, maybe something thrown his way. He doesn’t expect one of the guys spitting right into his face.

”Guys like you are dirt and god will take care of you,” the smallest one says. He seems to be believer amongst them.

Jose doesn’t want to talk anymore though. They just spit at him. He’s done talking. Before the god-fearing idiot has even finished speaking, Jose smacks the fucker who spit at him right across the face with the back of his hand.

”Imma end you, you motherfuckers. No one spits at me, bitch! You got hands, show me! Show me!” he yells, as blood drips from the drunken teenager’s nose.

”Hey!” Lindsey grabs him from behind. ”No fights in my bar. House rule. If you really wanna beat each other up, take it outside. But I’d advise all of y’all to just leave it. You four shouldn’t even be in here or drinking, and you,” she turns to Jose ”better not make more enemies than necessary while ya here. This is a small town.” Jose looks at the four teenagers in front of him, then throws a couple of dollars on the bar and leaves. So much for grabbing a drink and enjoying a night out.

***

Brock walks out of the stable when he hears a voice he would recognise everywhere. He also knows the car parked in their driveway.

”Fuck,” he curses quietly and hurries towards the house, wiping his hands on an old rag as panic settles in his stomach. This can’t be happening! Also, he is painfully aware that his hair is a mess, he is sweaty, dirty and his clothes are stained. Usually when he sees Jose, he at least gets a chance to shower beforehand.

For the last two weeks Jose has driven Rachel and him home after each dance practise. Sometimes they stop for ice cream or food on the way back. Brock is aware that Jose only makes little bets with Rachel, bets he always loses, and then has to invite them to whatever it is he promised her. Brock wouldn’t be able to buy ice-cream and take-out three or four times a week for three people.

The time he spends with Jose and Rachel has become the highlight of his life. He doesn’t mind walking half an hour to a dance studio and then watch for nearly two hours in the overheated studio as his niece prances around the room with other girls. The short drive back with Jose makes it all worth while.

He is the funniest and kindest guy Brock’s ever met. It feels a bit like having a friend, a real friend for once, and Jose is probably the only person he can really be himself with. He can giggle when he feels like it, talk with his hands and even admit that he likes colourful sprinkles on top of his ice-cream.

However, none of it explains why Jose is here now, parked in front of his parents’ house. It’s already too late, Brock realises when he makes his way around the front-porch and find both his mother and father standing on the porch talking to Jose.

”Aw, that’s too bad you can’t tell me. Thought I’d save them the long walk, now that I’m in town anyway.”

”Sorry, we can’t help ya,” his father says in a brusk tone.

”Ok, never mind. Thanks anyway,” Jose turns around to leave. That’s when he spots Brock. Immediately Jose’s face lights up. He is looking really good today, wearing a white wife-beater, a short black and red flannel shirt and tiny black shorts. ”Hey Brock!”

”Hello,” Brock replies as neutral as possible and it takes a lot not to return the smile. He is very aware that his parents are watching their interaction with stony expressions. ”What are you doing here?”

”Thought I’d ask you and Rachel if I should drive you to dance practice today. I have to take care of some shit here in town and could take you back with me. Don’t think ya got your car fixed yet, huh?” Jose still smiles and casually leans against his Porsche. He looks like someone straight out of an ad or a tv show. Already Brock’s stomach tightens because he knows what he has to do.

”I’m sorry Sir, but that’s not necessary. Rachel and I can manage on our own. Thank you for the kind offer though,” he declines and watches the smile melt off Jose’s face when the icy tone of Brock’s voice registers with him.

”Brock! You know him?” His mother asks. She sounds surprised. What did she think? That some stranger would just show up and offer driving him and Rachel?

”This is Jose. He is Rachel’s dance teacher for the next couple of weeks. Jason hurt himself.” He informs both of his parents.

”You done with the hay?” His father stops any further explanation.

”No, not yet. I just heard voices and thought I’d check on ya.”

”I don’t need ya checking, that’s what we got guns for. I need ya working!” His father barks.

”I better get going,” Jose says quietly and his eyes appear to be so large and defeated that Brock nearly drowns in them.

”Thank you again for the offer but we can manage,” he says and softens his tone. He doesn’t want to decline. If he had a choice, he’d gladly drive around in Jose’s car all day and talk to him about everything and nothing. But it’s not an option he has.

He can’t move, he can’t do anything when he watches Jose get into the car and then drive off, leaving dust and a hint of cologne in the air.

”Don’t ya have work to do?!” his father asks him from the porch and snaps him out of his daze. Quickly he hurries back to the stable to work, to hide and to hopefully forget about the scene he was just a part of. He swallows a couple of times to keep the tears inside that his stupid overly emotional heart wants him to cry for how he just treated Jose.

***

”Care to tell us what that guy wanted today?” Brock’s father asks as soon as he sits down at the table for lunch.

”I told you, he’s Rachel’s dance teacher and I know nothing more than you do. He wanted to drive us to her dance class.”

”How’d he know your car’s broken?”

”We were late a couple of times,” Brock sighs and takes a piece of bread, rips a piece off and stuffs it in his mouth so the words he really wants to speak won’t burst out.

”I don’t like ya hanging with that folk! It’s bad enough that Ada allows Rachel to take dance lessons at that place. You being around these faggots a couple o’times a week… ya know what the people in town gonna say if they see this gay guy here? Ya know what the minister’s gonna say? You stay away from them, ya hear me!” His father is basically yelling at this point.

”I take Rachel to dance class because no one else has the time to do so, not because I wanna hang out there. I don’t know this guy any better than I know Jason, so what’s the big deal? He is a good teacher and Rachel likes him.”

”Stop eating before we said grace!” His father slaps the bread out of his hand, which drops to the floor. ”And Rachel shouldn’t be anywhere around these faggots, this music or these whore dance moves! It’s not right! Their lifestyle and everything they do’s offensive to the lord and every god fearing Christian. They don’t belong here and I want none of my family have anything to do with them. If you wanna hang out with these sinners you get your ass out of my house and better never come back.” Now his father is really yelling.

”How else is Rachel supposed to get there? By the time the lessons are done it’s dark out. It’s too far for her to go on her own. It’s not safe!”

”If I had a say in it she wouldn’t go there at all! But ya sister is letting her kids do whatever! If she lets them run with the wrong crowd, they should know what’s waiting for them!”

It’s nothing Brock hasn’t heard before. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen or felt before. He knows if he speaks another word now the fight will most likely become physical. Brock has never raised a hand against his father, but for a while now he’s taken to defending himself and his mother when the beer gets to his father’s head again.

He hates how he judges Jose without even knowing him. He even hates him for judging Jason. For a split second he wants to scream at him that he’s a sinner himself, gay like them and that even all the beatings he got as a child and teenager didn’t take it out of him.

Then he glances at his mother and her wide, scared eyes let him bite his tongue and lower his head. ”I’ll tell Ada I can’t take Rachel anymore.” He leans over and picks the bread up off the floor and uses the second to wipe his face clean of any emotion. Fury is still burning in his gut, nearly making him sick as he swallows it down and nearly chokes on it.

This is not the time though, not the time to risk it all for nothing. Jose will be gone again in about three weeks and their tentative friendship will become only a memory. What does it matter if he stops it all now, goes back to life how it was before Jose got here and starts living his harsh reality again three weeks earlier? His father probably just saved him a lot of pain and heartache. Brock knows that Jose and his friendships means too much already and he’s gotten too used to it.

”Good. Brock, can you say grace?” His mother ends the discussion with a grateful look and Brock knows he’s made the right decision.

***

”Hey, uncle Brock,” Rachel greets him after the mass on Sunday, when they are all still standing in front of the church.

”Hey honey,” he smiles.

”Can you take a look at my bike? The breaks’ not working and mommy can’t fix it,” she asks him and of course Brock follows her to her bike on the other side of the lawn. He doesn’t care that his good pants get dirty as he kneels down beside the small bike. It’s more important that his niece has a functioning bike, now that she has to ride it to dance practise and back. Brock doesn’t like it. He worries about her constantly, but there is nothing he can do.

”It’s just a bit loose, honey, that’s easily fixed,” he assures her.

”Thank you!”

”Do your lights work? I don’t like you riding your bike in the dark after practise, so we have to make sure at least these are working.”

”Can I tell you a secret?” Rachel whispers after checking that they are alone.

”Always.”

”I’m not driving back on my bike. Vanjie takes me until we reach our house and then waits with the lights turned off until he knows I’m safely inside.”

Brock feels a warmth spreading through him that nearly knocks him on his ass. He grasps the bike to keep his balance. He should have known Jose would make sure Rachel is safe. It’s so much like him that Brock feels like weeping. It’s only been three days, but he already misses their talks so much and hearing about how he cares for his niece only makes him miss Jose more. If only he could just talk to him sometimes.

”That’s very nice of Vanjie. He’s a very good guy,” Brock tells her just as quietly as she told him her secret.

”Then why do you hate him?”

”What? What makes you think I hate him?” he asks surprised and slowly gets up.

”Vanjie asked why you not taking me anymore and if you’re sick or something. I told him ‘bout the stuff grandpa said and that you can’t take me ‘cause they’re offensive and sinners and you don’t wanna be around him and can’t be his friend.”

Brock nearly crumbles to the ground for real this time. ”Rachel, how do you know about that talk?”

”I wanted to see you but then I heard the yelling through the open window and ran off. I don’t like grandpa when he’s mean like that.”

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his curls. There are so many things wrong with what Rachel just said and what she overheard. But there are also things he can maybe fix.

”Honey, I don’t agree with grandpa. Vanjie is a very good and nice guy and don’t let anyone tell you anything else about him or Jason, ok? ” Rachel nods her head. ”The only reason why I’m not taking you anymore is because grandpa gets very upset about these things and he’s scared that people will say mean things about me in town.”

”Like the things they say about Jason?”

”Yeah, like that. And he doesn’t want that for me or any of us. And I don’t want to make grandpa angry.”

”Uncle Brock? I like Jason and Vanjie.”

”That’s good. Make sure you tell them. They sure need to hear it.” He strokes his hand over Rachel’s strawberry blond hair.

”Will you tell them, too? Vanjie was really sad that you not there anymore. He said, he thought you was his friend.”

”I’ll tell him,” Brock agrees.

”Promise?” Rachel goes in for the kill.

”Promise,” he says and knows he now really doesn’t have choice but to talk to Jose. Rachel will know.

***

He waits until his parents are in bed and then sneaks outside to the orchard behind their house. It’s far enough so he won’t be overheard, dark enough so he won’t be seen and close enough to the cellphone tower so he’ll have reception.

Jose has given him his phone number the first week, but he has never used it and he hasn’t given him his own. It simply hadn’t been necessary. Jose said to use the number if he needed a ride or if Rachel couldn’t come to practise. Brock had no such excuse for giving him his number.

He takes a couple of deep breaths and then finally brings his thumb down on the dial button.

”Hello?” Jose picks up after only a couple of rings.

”Hey, uhm, it’s me, Brock,” he stutters and feels stupid already.

”What’d ya want, Sir?” Jose’s tone is snide and Brock knows he deserves it.

”Rachel told me she talked to you and I think I need to clear some things up.”

”You made it more than crystal yourself what you really think about me. Ya don’t need to drag Rachel into this.”

”I’m not! I just think, like… it’s not what it seems.”

”So you not avoiding me like the plague ‘cause your father’s a bigot asshole who thinks just talking to me will sully your reputation?” Jose is yelling at him through the phone, then he suddenly stops. When he continues his voice carries the hurt he must be feeling. ”God, I hate this motherfucking town and all of y’all religious lying assholes.”

”I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You’re so nice to Rachel and to me and helped us out so much and just…I’m sorry.”

”If you’re really sorry you’d have come here and told me this shit in person like a man. But I guess you just as much of a weaselly liar as the rest of these fucked up wanna be cowboys in this town. Grow up, start thinking for ya’self and learn how to make an apology real.” Jose hangs up on him and Brock stares disbelievingly at his phone.

At first he is shocked and sad. He’s just lost the only friend who really knew him. Not only that, but he also thinks badly about him now. How can he think that Brock agrees with his father? He must know that he doesn’t have a choice, right? He thought Jose knows… That’s when Brock gets angry himself. He is so sick of all of these people and their opinions about him and his life and what he is supposed to do and to think. He’s used to it from his family and the town and the parish. But Jose? How dare he!

Before he really knows what he is doing, he has run inside, grabbed his mother’s car keys and is on the way to the dance studio. Jose wants him to talk to him in person? He can have it!

***

Brock bangs on the front-door and his hand is still in the air when the door is ripped open.

”What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?”

”You told me to talk to you in person, didn’t you?” Brock raises his voice as well.

”Aaaah and of course the good little christian boy always does what he is told,” Jose sneers. For a second Brock wants to punch him. Instead he pushes past him into the apartment. Jason or whoever else is around, really doesn’t need to hear this conversation.

Jose lets the door falls shut and crosses his arms over his chest. ” Say what you gotta say, then leave.”

”Why are you acting like this?”

”Acting? Acting bitch! Imma show you who’s acting! You lucky I’m not kicking your ass right now for pretending to be my friend, acting all nice and cute while we eating ice cream and then you suddenly stabbing me in the back, pretending you don’t fucking know me and stop talking to me without any explanation. I don’t need any more backstabbing hoes in my life.”

”Do you have any idea what my father would have done, if he knew we were hanging out after dance practice? If he knew we were so much as talking on the regular? I don’t know who he would have shot first, you or me!”

“I’m not scared of your asshole father. I don’t give a shit about him! But I give a shit about loyalty. And you not who I thought you were! You not fucking loyal! If you’d been at that fucking bar last week, you’d have spat on me too and tried to beat me up, just ‘cause you scared of your father. You pathetic!” Jose is full on screaming at him now.

”So you got a taste of what it’s like to live here for one night? Do you know what it’s like to live here every fucking day of your fucking life? When they beat me up as a kid ‘cause I was too girly, my dad beat me up again when I got home. They threw rocks at me, spat at me and slapped me all the way through school. I couldn’t tell my parents, the teachers didn’t care and I didn’t even understand what the fuck was wrong with me!” Brock starts pacing in the small living room.

”You’re the only person who knows. The only person who knows that I’m…” he can barely get the word over his lips. ”…that I’m gay.” There, he’s said it out loud for the first time in his life. Well, yelled it at Jose. ”And you know what happens when that gets out? When only a rumour will spread? What you experienced at the bar will be my life every fucking day and worse. My parents will kick me out, I’ll lose all of my family and I’ll have nothing, NOTHING left. Maybe that’s what I deserve for being that way, maybe that’s really god’s way of punishment. But I’d rather live a lie every day for the rest of my fucking life than to lose the little I have left.” Tears are dripping from Brock’s chin by the end of his confession. He’s laid it all out now to Jose, a guy he barely knows and just because he’s the first one who has shown him any kindness. Fuck! What if… what if he tells people? What if he is so angry he will take revenge and..

”Hey, it’s ok. I understand,” Jose is suddenly standing in front of him and places his hands on his upper arms. That’s when Brock realises he’s shaking. ”It’s ok.” Jose tries to wipe his tears away with the back of his hands, but they fall faster than he can wipe them off. ”Come here, boo, sit down. You still shaking like a fucking tree,” he says. Brock has to laugh about the mishap.

”Leaf,” he corrects through his tears and hiccups.

”Smart ass. Imma get you some water,” Jose smiles and disappears for a moment, before he comes back with a bottle of water and some tissues. Brock takes the water and drinks it down, before he accepts the tissues and dries his face and his eyes.

He feels stupid now for getting so upset, for crying, for yelling all of his secrets at Jose and for coming here in the first place. ”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” he starts but Jose stops him.

”You know what, boo? You look like you need a hug. That ok?” Jose asks him with a tender and worried look.

”I’m not good at hugging,” Brock shrugs self-deprecatingly and looks down.

”You lucky, ‘cause I’m the best at giving hugs.” A moment later Jose slowly pulls him in his arms and hugs him tightly. It’s a strange feeling for Brock and he can’t remember when he has ever hugged anyone other than his sister or his nieces and nephews. Then however, he slowly relaxes against Jose’s warm body and lets the last couple of tears fall.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks. It’s nice and soothing, comfortable and exciting. He feels safe and cared for. Jose starts running his hands up and down his back and if Brock could, he would start purring like his favorite kitten. He closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling.

After a while, he turns his head, his nose bumps against Jose’s neck and the scent of cologne gets stronger. Jose’s hand slides up his neck and into his hair. When Brock looks up and their eyes meet, it only takes a split second and then Jose brushes his lips against his. It’s not even a peck, more like a butterfly like touch, but Brock wants more. He stops thinking as he leans up and captures Jose’s mouth in a soft kiss.

When he pulls back his brain suddenly starts working again and he jumps back. ”Oh my god!” he covers his tingling lips with his hand and stares at Jose.

”Please tell me that’s not been your first kiss,” Jose begs, equally wide eyed.

”No! But.. Like… we can’t do this. I can’t..not… here… I’m…”

”It’s ok, Brock. It don’t gotta mean nothing. You can go back to ignoring me now. I get it, I promise. No hard feelings.” The hurt in Jose’s voice tells Brock something else though.

”I don’t wanna ignore you.” He tells him honestly. ”But I can’t… do this here. It’s too risky.”

”Alright. Friends then?” Jose smiles.

”Friends,” Brock nods. ”Just… no one can know.”

”‘Cause I’m too fucking gay for this town, I know, Miss Thing. Then you better get your secretly gay ass outta here, before anyone sees you.” The words are harsh, but the smirk on Jose’s face and the hug he gives him, let Brock know he really means it.

”We could get ice cream again some time?” Brock suggests when he is already halfway out the door.

”Text me tomorrow if you still feeling that typa way and we can do that.” They smile at each other for a moment and if Brock wasn’t such a coward he’d kiss him again. Instead he quickly leaves and vows to himself that he will text Jose in the morning and make sure he won’t lose the only friend who now really knows all of his dirty secrets and still likes him. Despite it all. Maybe because of it.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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justgottafinishthischapter · 6 years

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Tips on Writing LGBT Characters

As LGBT+ rights continue to make great strides in becoming normalized and accepted by widespread culture, LGBT people have started to pop up far more often in different forms of media. However, because LGBT people can vary wildly in experiences, locations, and beliefs, it can be tricky for someone to really have a good idea of what makes for good representation. Some would argue that it simply being acknowledged is enough, while others would argue that it needs to be a present part of the character, while others argue that it shouldn’t be the focus of the character and that their other traits should be emphasized on more. So, where should one start? Here are a few tips to lead the way.

If You Are Not LGBT, Do Not Make Your Story About Being LGBT - I’m not saying you can’t write an LGBT character if you yourself are not LGBT. A white person can’t really write a story about what it means to be black because it is an experience of life they have never experienced for themselves. If you want to write a story with an LGBT character, or better yet, a protagonist, that’s wonderful. But their sexuality, sex, or gender should not be a focal point of the narrative unless you know the experience first hand.

Not All People Use the Same Labels - Although the term queer is being reclaimed by some people in the LGBT community, there are those who still do not like the use of the word, and the same goes for other slurs. Like with the ‘n’ word for black people, some LGBT people feel fine using terms such as queer and fag when referring to themselves or friends who they know it doesn’t bother, but most LGBT people are mindful to remember that not everyone feels the same way about these harmful words.

Don’t Bury Your Gays - In the cinema that emerged from Hollywood following the censorship laws of the Hays Code in 1930, characters that were coded as homosexuals or otherwise ‘deviants’ from the social norm were punished, often with death. Themes of self-loathing were common, and it became extremely common for one or both members of a suspected homosexual couple in a movie to be killed by the end of the story, if not be portrayed as a sick monster or villain by the end. If they weren’t gunned down, their self-loathing boiled over and they took their own lives. So, if the only LGBT character in your story dies, consider killing off a different character, due to the particularly dark and troubled history of this trope. On a related note, if you’ve written a villain to be campy and effeminate in order to make them funny or look silly, you are once again playing into harmful stereotypes due to the frequency with which stereotypical homosexual behavior is used to code villains in order to make these behaviors look wrong and villainous.

Understand the Difference Between Stereotypical and Nuanced - In the public eye, the stereotype of the gay male is that he is campy and effeminate with a lack of interest in traditional masculinity, and that the lesbian female skins wild animals and fixes broken appliances with the same vigor she plays softball and chugs beer. However, it is fair to point out that some of this is truth in television, and there are people in the world who are just as stereotypical if not more-so than these depictions. So, where is the line between stereotypes and realistic characters? The difference comes in how it is intended. If the audience or reader is meant to laugh at the character because oh ha a man shouldn’t act like that, then the portrayal is harmful and stereotypical. If the only defining characteristic of the character is that they are LGBT, then that is not a well-written character. Being LGBT does not dictate one’s interests or hobbies. But don’t feel compelled to write the exact opposite of the stereotype either. Effeminate gay men are people too, and although they flood the media perception excessively, there’s still a difference to be found between a character written to be gay, and a character who just happens to be gay.

A Character’s Surroundings Will Impact Who They Are - Two gay men could be completely identical in every single way but end up extremely different due to a simple change in hometown. Aside from universal experiences such as coming to terms with one’s sexuality or the coming out process, not all LGBT people are going to be met with the same challenges or the same opportunities. Take for example a gay boy in high school. Imagine him going to a public school in New York City or Los Angeles where the mindset tends to be more liberal and the population size is far larger. In a school with a student body of 300,000 students, he’s far more likely to go to school with other LGBT people based simply on population density and statistics. He’s far more likely to get a boyfriend from his own school, be part of an at least decently sized Gay Straight Alliance, and can probably come out with less fear of rejection on the whole. Now compare and contrast to someone living in a small town in Wyoming. On the whole, Wyoming is one of the least populated states in America. That exact same gay boy may now find himself one of only maybe a small handful of LGBT people. If there’s only one other guy in his school or even worse, his town who also likes boys, the two may very well almost force themselves into a relationship in order to satisfy a need for physical or emotional intimacy. By the time they go away to college, they may have already clung to each other so much that it’s easier just to keep the relationship going than to try to find somebody new. Skip ahead a few more years, and they may have a very rocky marriage held together on the sole grounds that at one point in their lives, they were each other’s only options for romance, and that them both being LGBT was not enough to hold a relationship together. Taking these kinds of elements into consideration when constructing a narrative with an LGBT character can yield compelling stories if examined under the right circumstances.

The Pitfalls of Dating - As if backlash from society, faith, and media portrayal aren’t bad enough, one of the most annoying parts of being gay can be finding a partner. Continuing with the school example from before, imagine that in a class of 180 that 13 students are LGBT, of those, 6 are males, your gay male character and his only five options for a potential boyfriend. Factor in the possibilities of incompatible interests, physical attraction, and even popularity, and of those five options, he may only have eyes for one guy in the entire school. Then, what can he do when he finds out the only guy he’s interested in is already with someone else? Well he’s left with three options: try a different school, hope someone comes out of the closet, or get comfortable with being alone. This can also put a lot more pressure on the anxiety of asking someone out. If a straight guy asks a girl out, even if she rejects him, he’s got another 60 girls he could pursuit. When there’s only 5 guys available, and there’s a realistic chance that the ones he finds attractive won’t be interested in him, there’s a lot more lost if he dares ask his crush out and gets rejected. There’s also the fact that especially straight men may get angry and possibly even hostile should a gay guy express romantic interest in them, to the point where some gay men may feel afraid to ask a guy out unless they can either get a good feel for whether he’s likely to respond that way, or a clear sign that the man is a homosexual.

Coming Out Is A Deeply Personal Decision - A sort of unspoken cardinal rule among LGBT people is essentially, “Thou Shalt Not Out Thy Community”. Outing someone else is a taboo within LGBT culture, due to the sensitive nature of the topic, and because some may be at risk of their home lives or work lives being compromised by this information getting out, and others just don’t feel like sharing this aspect of their lives with others. Thus outing someone else, especially intentionally, is considered to be a very egregious offense.

Transgender and Drag are not the Same Thing - A transwoman is a woman who was Assigned Male At Birth and a transman is likewise a man who was Assigned Female At Birth. A Drag Queen is a man who dresses in women’s clothing as a form of entertainment. A Transwoman is a woman. A drag queen may use female pronouns on the stage, but when the dress comes off, the man underneath is still a man and still identifies as man. A Transwoman is a woman no matter what kind of clothes she’s wearing or what she looks like.

#writing tips #writing gay #gay writing #gay characters #gay rep #gay representation #lgbt #queer #writing advice

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence.

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it.

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face.

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go.

#book recommendations #recommended #recommendations #may #june #books #bookworm

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katecarteir · 6 years

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ask me to stay. | chapter one | 6k.

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

chapter warnings: minor depictions of violence, gay slurs. it’s the 90s man.

click title to read on AO3!

The final bell rang through the class, and it took every inch of self control that Eddie Kaspbrak had not to toss the papers on his desk up in the air and cry out with joy. Richie Tozier, it seemed, had much less self control than Eddie did- and Eddie had Richie’s papers landing on his desk and Richie’s shouts in his ears.

“ Mr Tozier,” Ms Campbell, their junior AP English teacher, gave him a long withering look but Eddie could see her fighting off a smile. Richie seemed to be the only person in the world who’d mastered annoying and amusing somebody at the same time. “I can still give you detention for this afternoon.”

Richie gave her a small half smile. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re just as excited as I am to get out of here, so you probably won’t.”

Richie Tozier was all things that a good girls’ daddy would warn them about. His hair never laid flat on his head, and his clothes were always rumbled with wild patterns and mix-matched styles. He still forced his feet into the same pair of Dock Martens from freshman year, even after growing up them back at the beginning of the year, and it gave him a permanent skip in his step. He wore braces on his teeth even at sixteen years old, and the grudging white women down at the salon always seemed to have something bad to say about the Tozier family.

Eddie wasn’t like Richie. It sometimes felt like Eddie’s mother still dressed him, even if he technically chose out his own outfits every morning. Eddie Kaspbrak was similar to Richie in one way; he was also the kind of boy that men didn’t want around their daughters. No man wanted their daughter running around with a boy who dressed like a faggot. Eddie may not choose his clothes, but that didn’t make all of their claims untrue.

Ms Campbell shook her head, fully smiling now. “Get out of here, Richard.”

Richie let out another excited noise, slightly quieter this time, and grabbed hold of Eddie’s hand. Eddie barely had enough time to grab up his own things before Richie was dragging him from the building. He seemed to not have any regard for his own belongings that were scattered all over the classroom. Eddie had known Richie Tozier for pretty much as long as he could remember. A real sandbox love, and Richie had been this obnoxious ever since Eddie could remember. Richie had been a messy child, loud, and Eddie’s mother had forbid him at four years old to ever see the boy again. Being friends with Richie Tozier had been the first time Eddie had ever disobeyed his mother, and every time since had been Richie inspired.

Richie openly pranced into the hallway, slipping and high fiving some random person that Eddie barely recognized. He looked ridiculous in his too small boots, and jean overall matched with a Hawaiian print shirt that lost what little fashion cred it had back in the early 80s. Richie quickly returned to Eddie’s side, tossing an arm around his friend shoulder and pulling Eddie into his side. “Eds, my love, I have a feeling that this is going to be the best summer of our lives. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Don’t call me that, dick,” Eddie shoved at Richie, but not enough that they actually broke contact or that Richie would pull away. Richie just grinned down at him. “You say that about last summer and then I spent the whole six weeks with a cast on my wrist. Thanks to you, I might add. So, sorry if I maybe don’t take your word for it.”

“Eds…” Richie sighed, shaking his head. “I’m telling you. This is the summer of Losers.”

Richie dropped his arm from around Eddie’s shoulder and skipped towards the doors to freedom. Eddie slowed his steps and watch Richie move, a small smile growing on his cheeks.

→ → →

Beverly Marsh tucked her hands into the pockets of the much oversized jean jacket that she’d stolen from Richie, and watched Bill Denbrough upend his pack into the green garbage can outside the school. She was pretty sure at least three calculators and an actual full-sized novel fell out and into the garbage, but she didn’t make a peep.

“Don’t you think you’re going to need those things?” Ben Hanscom asked as he approached. Ben had always been a cute kid, Beverly remembered when they first met in the seventh grade. He had been, for a lack of better word, fat. He’d hit a good growth spurt the year before, and gone out for the football team with Mike Hanlon in sophomore year and it had slimmed him out a little bit. His sandy brown hair still flopped all over his face, and his cheeks still pushed out with chub, and Beverly wouldn’t have had any other way. She would never tell anybody, but she thought that out of all her friends Ben Hanscom was her favourite.

Bill Denbrough looked up and smiled. This past year, Bill had started letting his hair grow out and it now tickled at the back of his neck, and fell well into his eyes. Richie hadn’t yet managed to convince Bill to tuck it back into a ponytail, and Beverly often wondered how Bill even saw. He glanced down at the bag, seeming to think about it for a moment, then tossed the whole bag into the garbage behind his belongings.

Mike walked up to them, still wearing his red-and-white letterman jacket that Ben would never be seen wearing outside of game days, and grinned. Mike Hanlon was definitely the nicest jock that Beverly had ever met in her life. The Hanlons were on the of only black families in the very town of Derry, Maine and they lived out of the outskirts on a beautiful farm. Beverly practically lived out there when she could. Mike had been homeschooled through their elementary school days, and she’d only known him through reputation until then. He’d fit right in their little group of Losers immediately, and they’d all been inseparable since.

“That was overkill, Billy, don’t you think?” Beverly asked, pulling out the package of cigarettes from the pocket of the jacket and lighting one up. She supposed technically they were Richie’s, but she told herself that Richie would never have started smoking if it hadn’t been for her, so that made them partly hers. “You really didn’t need to throw out the whole bag, dude.”

“I don’t want to th-th-think about school for the next s-s-six weeks!” Bill announced, cheeks turning pink the way they always did when his stutter came through. It was remarkably better than it was when they were children- the speech therapy his parents had been taking him to Portland was working wonders- but it seemed to slip through just often enough that he couldn’t quite live down the nickname of “Mush Mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not going to need that stuff next year, man,” Ben said with a laugh. In the past few months, it had seemed that Ben Hanscom had been trying pretty hard to give himself a newer image. His sentences got shorter, he’s words got rougher, and his little black notebooks stopped appearing in his hands. Beverly figured that he was still writing poetry- or at least, she hoped he was- but Ben had effectively been shutting himself out the last few weeks.

“What are we talking about?” Richie’s voice carried over to them, wrapping an arm around Beverly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Junior year had done wonders to Richie’s height factor, springing him up almost a foot and prompting him to finally catch up to the other boys in their grade.

“Bill here thinks that because the school year is over that he can just throw out all of this stuff from this year- backpack included.” Ben informed Richie, reaching into his own bag and tossing the curly-haired boy a PEZ dispenser that had Daffy Duck from the Loonie Toons on it.

Richie caught it without concern, grinning a little sheepishly as Eddie Kaspbrak came up to them. He was a little wheezy from trying to keep up to Richie’s larger steps, but had that same mischievous grin on his face that he always did. “That’s nothing,” Eddie said with a cocky wiggle of his eyebrows. “ Richard here tossed all his shit up into he air once the bell rang like they were graduation caps, and then left them laying around the classroom.”

Beverly and Mike burst out laughing in the same moment, turning Richie’s slightly embarrassed grin to the genuine smile that always came out his friends laughing. Eddie looked at Richie’s smile, and the sound of Bev and Mike’s laughing sort of dimmed in his ears.

“Where the hell is Stanley?” Bill finally asked, looking around as the court yard quickly emptied around them. Most days the courtyard would be filled for hours after school let out, with clubs and teams all loitering around for meetings, but nobody wanted to stand around on school property once summer had officially started. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“He had a meeting with the counsellor after school, said it wouldn’t take long.” Richie said, popping out three of candies and popping them into his mouth.

“Probably discussing a way to get Stan valedictorian over you,” Mike said with a smirk. Richie clicked his tongue and winked at him.

Eddie’s gaze moved towards the loud rumbling of a certain Chevy truck that was moving down the road towards the school and his chest hitched. “Oh, shit. Incoming.”

Beverly groaned, quickly reaching down to tighten the laces on her combat boots. “Don’t they ever get tired of harassing innocents?”

“Nah,” Richie said, looking towards the truck with the few expression of true disgust that he owned. “People never get tired of the things that get them off. Why did you think I spend so much of my time picking fights with Eddie’s mom?”

“Oh my GOD!” Eddie squeaked, whacking Richie on the air. “You’re so fucking gross, Tozier, I swear-“

“Okay, we gotta move,” Mike said suddenly, reaching out and taking hold of Bill’s arm. Bill had already squared his shoulders, readying up for the fight as he always did at the sight of Henry Bowers and his gang. It was sometimes like there was a tiny part of Bill’s soul that burned for getting his ass handed to him by bullies twice his weight.

“What about Stan?” Eddie asked hesitantly, glancing back at the building. The last thing Eddie wanted was to be caught in any sort of altercation with the Bowers gang that he’d so carefully avoided since they’d graduated from Derry High the year before but he also wasn’t the type to leave a man behind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie said, patting Beverly between her shoulder blade and ushering her towards Ben. “Patty boy and I have an understanding. You guys just get out of here.”

Eddie’s chest clenched slightly, and he noticed the same panic settled over Beverly’s face. “Babe, we can all go. We don’t even know how long Stan is going to be in there, we don’t know that they’ll even still be around when he’s done.”

“I don’t know,” Richie said in a voice sung with false confidence. “I’ve sort of missed them. It would nice to have a reunion with our old pals.”

“You’re on your own feeling that way,” Mike said with a nervous laugh. The truck was approaching rather quickly, and he pressed an arm around Beverly’s shoulder. She ushered her away, Ben right on their heels. The truck started to honk, and Eddie squeezed Richie’s wrist before taking off after the others. Richie turned slightly, making eye contact with Bill, who grinned back at him. Richie lowered his hand slightly, and Bill met it with a low five.

Patrick Hockstetter was jumping out the passenger door before the truck had even skidded to a stop. His black hair was longer and greasier than Richie remembered it being, and his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed since the last time they’d seen him. His boots were caked in mud, and it was definitely the same flannel that had once been oversized. He grinned at them wolfishly, actually going as far as to lick his lips. “Well, well,” Patrick said with a chirp. “If it isn’t my two favourite Losers. Where are the rest of your gang?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Richie asked, raising his brow and matching Patrick smirk for smirk. “Seems the end of days has finally come. Everybody else was raptured up to Gods playground and we’re the only poor bastards left on Earth.”

Bill snorted and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. As Patrick limbered closer, Richie realized that he was actually the same height now and he couldn’t control the pride that settled in his chest.

Henry and the other two minions that mattered a whole lot less all came strutting out of the truck and towards them. “Huh-huh-huh-huh-hey buh-buh-buh-Billy,” Henry Bowers exaggerated stuttered as he approached. It was weak and overused means of teasing, but it still made Bill clenched his fist and grind his jaw. “You guys all alone here?”

Richie exhaled hard, with an overdramatic roll of his eyes. “We’ve been over this. If you’re going to show up late, at least have the courtesy to be quiet.”

“Oh, Trashmouth Tozier is telling me to be quiet? That’s rich.” Henry stepped towards Richie, a good several inches shorter now. For the first time in his life, Richie Tozier felt he might have the upper hand in a situation. Until Patrick opened his mouth again.

“Hey, Tozier, where’s you’re little fairy friend?” Patrick slurred over to him. Richie’s posture stiffened and he heard Bill let in a small inhale behind him. “I wanted to give him a special hello if you catch my drift.”

Richie saw Patrick grabbing at his crotch from the corner of his eye, and forced a smile onto his face. “You know what I love about bigots.” Richie said, forcing laughter into his voice. He could practically feel Bill vibrating behind him. Richie turned quickly from Henry to Patrick, socking the bully directly in the nose. “Nothing.”

“OH SHIT!” Bill shouted behind Richie, grabbing at his friend’s arm and pulling. Richie stumbled slightly as they took off in the opposite direction of the school.

I picked the wrong day to wear shoes that don’t fit, Richie thought to himself. He could hear the angry shouts of Patrick and his buddies as they chased the two of them through the crowded Derry Park. Richie took a running jump over the park bench, and laughed breathlessly when he heard the distinct thud of Belch Huggins running into it.

Bill took a sharp left and slid underneath the singing out legs of a child on the swing, and nearly fell when he heard Vic Criss shout when the girls feet landed directly in his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Hockstetter mad dive forward and tackle Richie into the sandbox. Wincing, Bill turned away as Patrick began to rub Richie’s face into the sand.

“You ever going to learn to watch that fucking trashmouth of yours?” Patrick growled at him, pressing his face angrily against the dirt. Richie flailed, but he knew it was no use. He and Patrick may be nearing each other in height these days, but Patrick had always had superiority upper body strength. Or really, all types of strength except possibility intelligential but given his recent actions- maybe even there. “Always been a problem for you, hasn’t it, Tozier? Never, never learn.”

Richie could dimly hear how Henry and the rest of the goons were cheering Patrick on, but he was pretty sure he was getting sand in his eyes at the moment so he couldn’t make out any words. Patrick’s words, he could still hear nearly clear as day. “Are you really this stupid? Is that what this is? Or is it because I made fun of your fairy friend there? You protective of little Kaspbrak?” Richie thrashed all the harder, even though he knew that it was only going to make things worse for him in the end. “Oh, ho ho! Did I hit a nerve, Tozier? Should I go find him, maybe? Do you think that you could save him from me?”

Richie managed to push himself onto his back, fighting at Patrick’s chest and trying to blink through the sand that had settled all of his over face. Patrick was grinning down at him and there was something hard that was not a knee pressing into Richie’s side, but he couldn’t think about that right now. It seemed like Henry was gone- bad news for Billy – but Richie had to focus on Patrick right now. He’d take the most brutal beating Patrick Hockstetter had in him if it meant that he’d leave Eddie alone.

Patrick was practically drooling, so if that was any sign to what Richie was in for then this was going to be a long couple minutes. Richie spit out a mouthful of playground- possibly peed in, oh god, was there pee in this? – at Patrick and scowled up at him. “Why don’t fucking pick on somebody your own size, Hockstetter? Afraid to loose?”

“Last I saw, Tozier.” Patrick’s breath smelled like the worst kind of mixture of marijuana and the Orangesicile smoothie down at the Prince’s on main. Richie’s stomach churned, and he had to fight not to turn his face away. “We are the same size.”

Richie’s last thought before Patrick’s fist came falling towards his face was- predictably- fuck. He didn’t know how long it went on, could have only been a few minutes but it easily could have been hours. But the next thing he knew, Patrick was pulling back and kicking at Richie’s side. Richie groaned and curled into himself.

“Be seeing you, Tozier.”

Richie laid there for a short moment before Bill seemed to appear from thin air and help him up to his feet. “You’re a piece of shit friend, you know that, right?” Richie groaned, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at the blood underneath his nose. “Just let ‘em beat me.”

He wasn’t serious, and Bill’s laugh sounded that he knew it. “Hey. N-not all of us are guh-g-gonna go Huh-huh-Hulk to defend suh-suh-somebody who isn’t even h-h-here.” Bill said, letting Richie move to stand on his own. “P-p-pick your b-b-battles, Rich.”

“I pick plenty of battles,” Richie shot back, winking at Bill even thought it definitely hurt his rapidly bruising eye. Bill rolled his eyes.

“Pick fewer battles, Richie.”

→ → →

Eddie rubbed his hands together, and looked up out the window of the Denbrough’s kitchen. Eddie had always thought it was weird how Bill’s kitchen faced out onto the street, growing up neither his, Richie nor Stan’s had been placed that way, but he was thankful for it right now. Every year on the last day of school, starting way back in the second grade, they had always had a sleepover at Denbrough’s house to celebrate the start of summer. Throughout the years, the sleepover had gotten larger, then smaller again last year when Bev’s aunt had deemed it inappropriate for her to be sleeping over with so many boys.

Eddie was fretting, and he knew it. Bill and Richie weren’t back yet, and it had caused a deep anxiety to settle itself in his gut. It had been nearly a year since Eddie Kaspbrak had needed to use his inhaler, and it had been three years since he- with the help of Richie’s overly enthusiastic support – had started weening himself off it. At thirteen, Mr Keene down at the pharmacy had told him that all of his medication were actually falsehoods brought up by his mother. Misted water and sugar pills, all of them. It had broken Eddie, for a long time. He was sure that he’d never be the same person again, that he would never trust the same way again. He was better now, stronger he believed, but if Richie and Bill didn’t show up soon- Eddie might regret not bringing his inhaler.

"Why don’t you wake outside, Eddie?” Georgie Denbrough asked from he kitchen table where he seemed to be doing some sort of homework despite school being over for the term. “It’s the perfect kind of summer night you love. The kind where you have to wear a sweater.”

Eddie smiled softly. Bill had been complaining for the last few months that Georgie had become a pain in the ass, going through some sort of angst-y teenager phase that was annoying to Bill and his parents alike, but Eddie had never seen that sort of behaviour from him. Anytime Eddie was around, Georgie seemed like the same sweet child to Eddie.

Eddie picked up his hoodie from the couch on his way outside, nodding at Stan and Ben who were sitting on the couch. He walked out the front door and hummed to himself as the soft summer wind hit his face. There was a chill to it, but Eddie sort of like the sting it brought to his skin.

He walked across the Denbrough’s lawn, that was sort of getting a little overgrown and no doubt Bill would be roped into mowing in within the next few days. He looked up to the big maple tree on the front of the lawn, and grinned to himself. A good hundred times a year, Eddie could have to yell at Richie to get out of it before he’d hurt himself. Last summer, he’d finally let Richie convinced him to go tree climbing with him- and it hadn’t been a normal sized maple in their friend’s front yard.

“I made soup.” Bev and Mike both startled and looked down at Eddie.

“What did you make soup for?” Beverly asked, still giggling slightly and Eddie shook his head. Richie and Beverly had been together so long that Eddie could barely remember that days before their relationship. Dim memories of believing that Bev and Ben were going to be together, even dimer ones of the days when Bev and Bill were childhood sweethearts. Yet, sometimes Eddie believed that he knew Richie better than Beverly ever even tried. But maybe that was just wishfully thinking.

So Eddie just shrugged, and contemplated it for only a second before scaling up the tree himself. He wiggled himself in between Mike and the trunk, looking down at the ground a little nervously.

“It’s not that high,” Mike said with a small smile. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie cast him a dark look, frowning deeply. “Last time somebody said that to me, I broke my fucking arm.”

“I…” Mike cleared his throat then nodded. “Okay, yeah. That definitely happened.”

“Why are you guys in the tree?” Stan called up to them, Ben standing beside him. Stan had shown up at the Denbrough’s house not long after the rest of the Losers had gotten there. He’d been quiet since he’d gotten there, more so than usually, and kept worrying his bottom lip. He hadn’t given up any sort of information about his meeting with the guidance counsellor, and Stanley Uris wasn’t the kind of person you pushed. (Unless you were Richie Tozier, who pushed everybody.)

“We’re waiting for Bill and Richie,” Eddie and Beverly answered in unison. They quickly pointed at each other and shouted “JINX!” and then burst out laughing. Mike smiled and looked back out to the street, tuning out Eddie and Bev’s continue attempt at jinx through their giggles. He saw Bill and Richie making their ways down the street before anybody else, and Richie wasted no time coming forward and slapping Stan on the shoulder.

The boy looked a little worse for wear, dirt and blood streaked on his cheeks, eye already seeming to be bruising. But he was smiling none the less, a regular old Tozier grin, and he looked up at his friends in the tree. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

Beverly giggled but Eddie jumped out the tree as though he had some sort of Spider Man powers and hadn’t just been fretting about the height. Mike crinkled his brow, as Beverly jumped down from his other side.

Eddie touched the cuts on Richie’s cheeks and his lips tugged down in a worried frown. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked in harsh words that didn’t match the concerned tone of voice.

“Patrick beat him up in the sandbox.” Bill came practically skipping up onto the lawn. “It was like being seven again, which i-i-isn’t something I thought I n-n-n-needed but I really enjoyed.”

Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “The only thing you enjoyed, Denbrough, was chatting up that weird newspaper girl in the park.”

“That’s n-n-not true,” Bill challenged, but the flushing of his cheeks implied that it was at least a little bit true. “I also enjoyed you p-p-p-punching P-P-Patrick.”

Richie grinned and nodded but Eddie let out a horrified squeak. “You punched Patrick? Have you lost your absolute goddamn mind, Richard? What could be possibly say that would make you do something so stupid?”

Richie and Bill exchanged a quick look between the two of them, almost a silent conversation, before Richie was reaching out and ruffling up Eddie’s meticulously styled hair. “Awe, don’t you worry about it, Eds. Just trust that he deserved it.”

“Of course he deserves it,” Eddie snapped but he was starting to smile. “Doesn’t mean you should be stupid enough to actually do it. Now, come on. Let’s get those scratches cleaned before you get an infection and they have to cut your dumbass head off.”

Richie wrapped an arm around Beverly and grinned as Eddie pulled him towards the house by his hand. “Did you at least make soup? You know I love soup after getting my ass handed to me.”

→ → →

Richie was rested on the Denbroughs kitchen counter, as Eddie rummaged through the cupboards and complained about how ill stalked it was. Mike chuckled into his bowl of soup, knowing that all Richie really needed was a some soap and hot water. Toss the lanky boy into the shower, and he’d be good as new.

He turned to where Ben and Beverly were both sitting, talking quietly to each other and seemingly blind to Eddie’s frantics not three feet away from them. They all snapped to attention as Bill and Stan came into the room. They both seemed a little knocked off kilter and Mike felt concern settle into his gut at the sight of them.

He didn’t seem to be the only one, Richie shifting to sit up straighter on counter. “What happened, dudes?”

“Somebody is m-m-m-moving into the old Gr-gr-Gray house.” Bill stumbled through his words. “A f-f-family, I guess. There was a g-g-girl…”

Richie waggled his eyebrows and grinned deeply. “A girl, yeah? Is she hot?”

Beverly grabbed one of the bread rolls off the dining room table and wiped at Richie, nailing right in the head, at the same time that Eddie whipped him with the dish cloth in his heads. Richie yelped, rubbing at his arm and pouting. “DAMN! Forgive a man for asking a damn question.”

“You’re not a man,” Stan told him dryly. “You’re an extremely tall, skinny infant that was somehow cursed with the ability to speak.”

Richie blew him a kiss, and Stan rolled his eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Stan moved over to reached past Eddie to the rubbing alcohol that was on a shelf just out of Eddie’s tiptoe’d reach. Eddie tried to force himself to sound grateful as he accepted it.

He moved back to Richie and took his chin between his hands. Looking the marks over. It wasn’t as bad as it had looked outside, a singular black eye and some scraping on the side of his cheek. Richie had winced when he’d jumped onto the counter, which likely meant his ribs were bruised but Eddie saw no point in fussing with them just now. Richie had been walking fine, so they weren’t broken.

He still couldn’t help but frown as he dabbed Richie’s cuts with the rubbing alcohol. Richie let out a louder cry than was necessary, and Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Aren’t you getting a little old to be running around getting into fights?”

“Aren’t they a little old to still be beating up kids?” Richie challenged with a smirk that quickly turned into a wince as Eddie dabbed at his slit lip.

Then Bill’s voice broke through and shattered the moment, and Eddie tried not to be annoyed. As soon as the moment was over, Eddie had to question if there had even been a moment at all. “Did you m-m-manage to convinced your aunt to let you stay, Bev?” Bill asked, no doubt knowing what the answer would be. Almost immediately after Beverly’s fifteenth birthday, sleepover with the boys permission had been yanked. Eddie wasn’t sure what her aunt been trying to stop from occurring, as Beverly already been dating Richie for years. It certainly wasn’t stopping her from having sex, if Richie’s jokes were anything to go by, and Eddie knew from personal experience that if Richie wanted into somebody’s house… he got in.

“Nah,” Beverly responded with an eye roll. “Got her to let up and extend my curfew. 12:30. Which means if I’m not home by 1, I’m dead meat.”

“I’ll walk you home, babe.” Richie said, popping his lips. He dropped his hand, letting Eddie’s wrist fall from his grip and down to Eddie’s side. His skin was cold where Richie’s touch had just been and it felt him feeling unsettled.

Stan scoffed from where he was leaning against the counter at Richie’s side. “Please, Tozier. We’d have to be way more concerned about you out in the night than Bev.”

Richie pouted for a moment before breaking into a large grin. “Okay, then Eddie and I will both walk Bev, and my Eds will make sure we both make it back here to Billy’s safe and sound.”

“Don’t call me Eds!” Eddie snapped, ignoring just all too many things lately. “And who the fuck said I agreed to that? Why would I leave a perfectly comfortable house to go baby-sit your ass in the middle of the night?”

“Because you love me?” Richie suggested with a toothy grin. Eddie pursed his lips together to keep back his smile. There had never really been any doubt that Eddie was going to walk with Richie and Bev, and he tried to ignore the little thrill it gave them that Richie was inviting him along when he easily could have been using it as an excuse to be alone with his girlfriend. He cursed himself for being so weak.

“Oh, Eddie, don’t bother pretending.” Stan said, waggling his eyes at Eddie from Richie’s other side. “We know you’re going to do it.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at his friend and tried to ignore how he was flushing right down the back of his neck. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and leaned closer so that Eddie could resume wiping at his face.

It didn’t help Eddie’s whole blushing issue.

→ → →

The dark streets were a comfort to Richie. He’d always preferred night over day, it made him free in a way that he could never been when the sun brought light down on all of his actions. He could more himself at night. He could put down his walls, remove his false face and be just a little bit more true.

Not very many got to see how Richie got under the darkness of Derry’s street. Derry felt endlessly safer at night, when the peering and judgment eyes of his snobby neighbours had gone to bed. Sure, he had to worry about Henry and his goons but he had to worry about them just as much in the light of the day so it couldn’t be a bother to him.

He looped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder as he guided him down and away from Beverly’s house. It wasn’t the best part of town to be hanging around in, he knew that, and it was far from where you wanted to get yourself stranded or cornered. And even so…

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Richie said, quieter than he would usually speak. It just felt a little wrong to be breaking the soft stillness of the night. He felt Eddie stiffen for a moment, before he learned into Richie’s touch. “Let’s go to the Quarry.”

“I am not swimming in the middle of night!” Eddie squawked, a little predictably. Richie chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder to keep him from pulling away when he felt his friend start to squirm. ”Don’t laugh at me, jackass! Even if it’s kind of warm out, you can still get pneumonia! And die! Do you want to die?”

Richie pursed his lips, shaking his head a little bit. “Can’t say I want to die right at this moment. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe.” He could feel Eddie’s startled and concerned expression pouring into them and Richie wanted to shut this possible emotional moment down before it started. “I didn’t mean swimming, Eds. Let’s just go and... sit at the end of the world for a while.”

Richie glanced down at Eddie, finally, and found his best friend looking back up at him with an expression that Richie couldn’t read. Eddie seemed to realize that Richie was trying to get inside his head, because he wiped the look from his face and replaced it with a soft smile. “That’s pretty profound, Richard. What are you thinking?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What was Richie thinking? God, wouldn’t it be so much easier if he knew. As it was, Richie was more confused now than when they first introduced Algebra into his life. Sighing, he kept his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and guided him to walk towards the Quarry in the opposite direction of Bill’s house. Eddie slipped away from Richie’s hold, and they walked side-by-side, not touching, the rest of the way. Richie supposed that it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was never awkward with Eddie, always comfortable.

They hiked up the cliff and moved to sit with their legs dangling over the edge. Richie tilted his head back to stare up at the stars- always more visible out here than anywhere within town. He wanted to put his arm back around Eddie, missing the warm weight under him. He’d learned better, though, in the past few years. He’d stopped chasing Eddie after the boy pulled away, knowing it often only lead to a fight. There was only a few times that Eddie would pull back but want back under Richie’s touch- and he always made it clear.

Like now, when he pressed up against Richie’s side when they were settled and seated. Richie pressed his lips together sharply to hold back his smile, and let his arm drop around Eddie’s shoulders once more. “I’m thinking of breaking up with Beverly,” Richie blurted out in a typical-Tozier fashion. Eddie blinked at him, tilting his head back.

“What? Why?” Eddie didn’t sound as though he felt one way or another about it. Or maybe he did, and he wasn’t letting it show. Didn’t make Richie feel any better, and it sure as hell didn’t give him an answer to Eddie’s question.

“Why?” Richie asked with a bit of a nervous chuckle. Then he hummed, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Why… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I guess? I’ve been with Beverly so long, and I never really… planned on it at all. We just kissed at that party, and suddenly- you know? Bev and Rich. Rich and Bev. And it’s been… years, yeah? And I just… I don’t know if I see myself being with Beverly for the rest of my life.”

Eddie was looking at Richie very seriously, a little softly, and Richie could get lost his Eddie’s eyes in this moment. And he felt a little guilty about it, and he had to look away. “Like, I love her. Obviously. But I don’t know if I’m… actually in love with her. You know? Sometimes it just feels wrong.”

Eddie swallowed loudly enough that Richie could hear him. For a long moment, it was just the two of them breathing. So close together that they shared air, and Richie’s heart was thrumming with anxiety. “You need to do whatever makes you happy, Rich.”

Rich just hummed, and dropped his head down on top of Eddie’s and stared back out to the endless water.

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #amts #scl tag #if you read signs of life #you want to read this bc i scrapped sol and decided to do just reddie #so this has some of the same scenes #but also other scenes that werent in sol #thank ily

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readyourimgaines · 5 years

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Chapter Four: Deeper Truths

I’m still getting notes on these so I’m going to keep posting them until someone tells me to stop. I plan for chapter five to be a light, filler so there won’t be drama in that on. Always, thank you to @thatbarricade. And the tag-list: @iamnotbrianmay @board-certifiedbastard @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood

“I think you’re the only person I know that actually drinks Snapple.” Grantaire handed the bottle to the blond and placed his own ice tea in the cupholder.

“I don’t always drink it. It’s good though, like an odd mix between tea and juice.” Enjolras took the cap off the bottle. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grantaire started his truck and pulled out of the gas station parking lot. “How’d you feel about the Musain?”

“Well, the work went better than I expected, so that was great. The people are friendly. I don’t think I’ll mind working there. I just can’t stand the sound the steam thing makes though. It’s so high pitched.”

“Yeah… You’ll get used to that. It takes a bit, but after a while, it’s just another instrument in the whole symphony, you know?”

“Did you want to talk about something, or could you just not sleep?” Enjolras glanced at R as he took another sip.

“I did want to talk about something with you. Kind of like a little boost. There are going to be times when you feel alone, given the circumstances, and I want you to know that you don’t need to feel that way.

“Yeah, you’re living in a house with other gay men who are constantly hosting a bunch of other gays. That’s all great, but there are going to be times when you feel out of place. When Ferre’s mom calls him on his birthday or whenever; Courf’s brother coming to visit from out of town. It’s going to feel lonely.”

“What are you-”

“Remember when Bossuet said he bet my father regretted the boxing classes he signed me up for?” R asked.

“Yeah.” Enjolras nodded.

“My coming out story wasn’t too much different from yours. My father drank a lot so I had the-the ridiculous idea that coming out to him when he was drunk was going to be easier than coming out to him when he was sober. Because then he might have forgotten, and then if I ever had a boy over I could tell him that I’d told him and he’d forgotten.

“He tried hitting me but couldn’t really because of the boxing classes I’d been going to since I was... fourteen? I was sixteen at this point. He kept trying to hit me and...and I knocked him out so I could get out of there without getting beaten. I was gone by the time my mother got home from work, and she was able to piece things together. Haven’t heard from either of them since.”

“Shit,” Enjolras breathed.

“I’m not- I’m not telling you this to scare you. I promise that’s not what I’m trying to do, alright?” Grantaire’s grip on the stick shift tightened, his knuckles turning white. “I’m telling you so you know that whatever goes down with your parents, whether they take you back or not, send you a Christmas card, whatever the fuck happens, you aren’t going to be alone. If Ferre and Courf spend a holiday with Ferre’s family, we can stay and hang out, go on a road trip or something. Just you and me.”

“You haven’t been alone like this, have you?” Enjolras’s eyes were wide.

“Nah. Feuilly doesn’t have a family either. He wasn’t disowned or anything, his family was just as unlucky as the Kennedys.” R’s chuckled was forced. “Yeah. He and I have spent a lot of time together. Eponine, Gav, and I usually have our own little Christmas and Easter celebrations, too. We don’t exactly have faith in that stuff, Gav’s just ten so we want him growing up with the stuff we didn’t get to but all our friends did.”

Enjolras slowly nodded. “I only thought stories like ours happened on Degrassi or in Troy Sivan music videos.”

“I thought you were sheltered.” This laugh was natural.

“I have a phone.” Enjolras laughed. “I might not know much about magic and all that, but I did my reading before coming to the conclusion that I’m gay. I’m only gay in theory, anyway.”

“Have you seen Glee?”

“Too many times. It’s still Jehan’s favourite show. They found it through their friend, Cosette, and they showed me because Kurt’s gay and they fell in love with Unique and Coach Beaste.”

“How amazing would be if everyone’s parents responded to their kid’s coming out like Burt did? I mean, shit. Just ‘ya sure?’ and that’s it? I wish.”

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not too broken up over my parents kicking me out. I know I should be, I just… I’m not. I’m not their picture-perfect dress up doll anymore. No more posed family pictures in front of the fireplace, then my father yelling at my mom the second the cameraman's out the door. I don’t have to be tucked under the covers watching MacDoesIt with earbuds in and praying to God my father doesn’t walk in.

“If they hadn’t kicked me out, I wouldn’t have this job, I wouldn’t have met the...four I did... I’ll remember their names in like ten minutes. I wouldn’t have met you. Forget my parents. They lost a son and I’ve got new friends so, honestly, they lost. I didn’t.”

“That’s the way I try to look at it. I met Feuilly at a shelter...thing…and he introduced me to Joly and Bossuet. Joly introduced me to Ferre, Ferre was already dating Courf.”

“How do you know Eponine?”

“Her parents owned my dad’s favourite pub. My mom worked there with them.”

Enjolras let out a laugh that was more of an exhale. He felt something akin to disbelief, yet another weight was lifted off his back.

“It’s weirdly relieving to know I’m not the only one. I-I feel bad because I wish you didn’t go through all that, but…”

“No, no. I get you’re saying. It’s why I told you. Sure we haven’t known each other for long, but we’re more alike than you’re probably willing to admit. I’m all kinds of fucked up and, no offence, but you probably will be too. But the friends we’ve got? They don’t care and they make the shitty things in life manageable. Somehow.”

“I don’t know, R. I think we’re doing pretty good for a couple of ‘fucked-up’ kids, don’t you? I’ve only had one panic attack since I was kicked out. You aren’t drunk all the time trying to force yourself to forget.”

“No. I’m never touching that shit. I saw what it did to my parents and I just- No. I’m 19, almost 20, I’d rather not have liver failure by the time I’m 40.”

“Then yeah, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

Testing his luck, trying something new, he rested his hand on R’s, which was still tightly gripping the stick shift. A smile tugged at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth and his knuckles relaxed, returning to their natural colour.

*****

Combeferre woke from his slumber and looked around the dim bedroom. He lifted his phone from the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen. 4:32. Untangling himself from Courfeyrac, he took a few seconds to pat the other’s untamable curls, trying to soothe him back to sleep when he stirred. He slipped his phone in the pocket of his shorts— the pair he’d never wear outside the house- and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Walking into the hall, he smiled to himself when he noticed the small moth by the hall light. The smile only widened when he entered the living room and saw Enjolras sound asleep on the couch, his arm hanging over the side. Grantaire was lying on the floor against the couch, their hands almost touching.

Combeferre retrieved his phone from his pocket and quickly snapped a picture of the two before going to the closet and drawing out two pillows and blankets. Enjolras would probably have his head if saw the picture, but, Combeferre thought to himself with a smile, it was totally worth it.

He knew Grantaire would claim he was fine without a pillow, but the artist’s neck would be destroyed in the morning even if he never spoke up about it. The sandy-haired man gently wormed a hand under R’s head. The instant his head was off the floor, his eyes snapped open.

“It’s just me.” Ferre flexed his fingers, softly scratching R’s scalp as he placed the pillow under his head, and eased his head back down. “I can move Enjy to his bed. You can have the couch,” he offered.

“I’m good here,” R muttered, eyes fluttering. “Thanks for the pil…”

Ferre brushed the curls back from his friend’s forehead before laying the blanket over him.

He stood and placed the second pillow under Enjolras’s head, the boy nuzzling his nose against it. Ferre was about to lay the blanket over his friend when he noticed the sneakers still on his feet. He plopped the blanket on the back of the couch and unlaced Enjolras’s shoes, setting them in the corner. Then he laid the blanket over the blond.

Enjolras opened his eyes as Combeferre adjusted a rumpled corner of the blanket that was falling off his shoulder. “Ferre?” Enjolras rubbed his eyes.

“Just woke up to get some water. Wanted to check on you.” Ferre said, his voice calm and warm. “When did R come in?”

“I don’t…one, maybe?” Enj covered his mouth as he yawned. “I swore last night.”

Ferre breathed laugh. “Tell me about in the morning. You’re tired.” He rubbed Enjolras’s head, the strands of hair sliding between his fingers like liquid gold. “Goodnight, Enjy.”

The blond leaned his head a little closer to Ferre as he kissed Enjolras’s forehead with a smile. Going to the kitchen, he took a water bottle from the cupboard, filling it at the sink before walking back to his room.

Sitting on his side of the bed, he plugged his phone back in, took a swig of water, and lay back down. He slipped back under the covers and curled into Courf’s side.

“Ferre?” Courf hummed.

“I’m here.” Combeferre smiled fondly when towards him and their noses and foreheads touching. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He flung his arm blindly, trying to find Ferre’s hand. Ferre, more awake, caught his boyfriend’s hand and entangled their fingers. “What time is it?”

“Early. The sun’s not up yet. I got up to get some water. R and Enj are sleeping in the living room. I need to show you this.” He unlocked his phone and opened the photo gallery. “I’m calling it now, they’re gonna be together before the middle of September.”

“You do know he’s 19, right?”

“So? Two years isn’t a big deal.” Ferre held the phone out to Courf.

“Okay, that is adorable,” Ferre admitted. “I’m still gonna give him shit for pinning after a minor.”

“I know you will,” Ferre chuckled as he put his phone back on the nightstand. “They both have a pillow and blanket.”

“You’re such a mother hen.” Courf wrapped his arm around Ferre’s waist and pulled the sandy-haired man closer to him, there noses touching again. “You’re amazing, though.”

“You are, too.”

*****

Enjolras woke up to his phone ringing. He patted around the couch, finding it by his hip where it had fallen out of his pocket.

“Hello?” His voice was gravelly with sleep when he spoke.

“Where are you?”

“Jehan?”

“Yeah. Where are you? I stopped by your parents’. Your father slammed the door in my face, then your mom called me and said you weren’t living there anymore. What the hell happened?”

“Oh, god.” Enjolras sat up, the blanket falling to his hips. “What time is it?” He brushed his bangs from his eyes.

“Almost nine-thirty.”

“Do you just wanna come over?”

“Where are you?”

“Do you remember where Combeferre lives?” Enjolras tilted the speaker of his phone away from his mouth to cover a yawn.

“I think so, yeah. The house on White Street?”

“Mhm. 229; the tan one. I-I’d rather explain things in person. I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, the last couple of days have been a whirlwind, you know?”

“When should I come over?”

“10:30 sound okay? I gotta get dressed and all that, tell Ferre you’re coming over. I don’t even know if he’s up.”

“I am,” Ferre called from the kitchen.

“I swear Jehan, he doesn’t really sleep.” Enjolras chuckled.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Just-just be safe, alright? I care about you.”

“I know. I promise I’m fine. Careful on your walk over. It’s a calm enough neighbourhood, but people are the worst.”

“You’re saying this to me, Enjy? I’ve got it. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jehan.”

“What’s going on with Jehan?” Ferre appeared in the doorway, a towel over his shoulder.

“They know something’s up. They stopped by my parents’ and freaked out a little… They’re coming over in a bit so I can explain everything.”

Combeferre winced at the mention of Enjolras’s parents. “They’ll understand, you know that.”

“Yeah. I’m glad R and I didn’t wake you up last night. I was hoping we wouldn’t.”

“Where’d you guys go?”

“For a drive,” R grunted from where he laid on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, face in his pillow. He sighed. “What’s the time?”

“Roughly nine-thirty,” Enjolras repeated.

“That’s gross.”

A knock sounded on the door just as Enjolras was towelling off from his shower.

“I got it!” Courf opened the door. “Jehan, right?”

“Yeah. You’re… Other ‘c’ guy that isn’t Ferre.”

“Close enough.” Courf stepped away from the door, allowing Jehan in. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“I know I’ve seen you before,” Jehan addressed Grantaire.

“Probably. I’m Grantaire.”

“Hi.”

“Enj just got out of the shower. He’ll be a minute.” Grantaire scratched the back of his neck.

“That’s cool.” Jehan shrugged. “How’s graduation treating you?”

R shrugged. “Better than high school, I can tell you that. I’m pretty excited for classes to start actually. People taking classes because they actually want to be there? I’m in.”

“That does sound better. My art classes are sort of like that, but they can still be naggingly annoying.”

Grantaire nodded sympathetically.

“I hope college is better than high school. The university has an actual library and everything,” Ferre pitched in.

“You’re still going to be buying everything you read, though,” Jehan laughed.

“That’s probably true, yeah.”

The bathroom door opened, and Enj stepped out from the hall.

“There you are.” Jehan captured Enjolras in a tight hug.

“I told you I was alright.” Enjolras returned the hug.

“Never know with you. What happened?” Jehan took a step back and looked their friend over with weary eyes.

“Let’s talk in my room.” Enjolras took Jehan’s hand and lead them into his room, closing the door behind them. “Remember, I promise I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you; things have just been crazy.”

“I know, I can see that. I’m not upset, Enjy.”

Enjolras gave a recap of the last couple days, starting with the fight he had with his parents and ending with him and Grantaire returning from their drive, though he left out their conversation.

“And you haven’t called CPS?” Jehan’s eyes were wide.

“No. And we aren’t going to. I turn 18 in a little under a month so I’m laying low. Besides, by the time all the paperwork and everything else went through I’d be 18 anyway, so it’d be out of their control. I’d just be placed in a group home for a month. The whole thing would be a waste of time and money for everyone involved.”

“That’s...that’s… I don’t have words for this, Enj. I’m just-”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything. I know it’s a mess and everything is up in the air for now, but I’m okay and I don’t mind how things are going. I’ve made new friends, I’m away from my father and I’m openly out now.”

“Oh. The ah...that curly-haired one? Grantaire, I think he said his name is? You know he’s totally into you, right?” Jehan smirked.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just a friendly guy, that’s all.”

“Courfeyrac and Ferre are together, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Grantaire looks at you the way Courf looks at Ferre. He’s into you, man.”

“I’ve got work at one,” Enjolras quickly tried to change the subject. “You should come check the place out. It’s a pretty chill place.”

“Where are you working?”

“Café Musain. It’s a little coffee shop on the college campus. I think you’d like the place.”

“I’ll go with you, sure. Now come on, I wanna watch this guy check you out more.” Jehan laughed at the face Enjolras made.

“He’s not into me. I’ve known him for three days.”

“Doesn’t matter. Love is a weird thing.”

*****

Enjolras’s phone dinged and he slipped it from his pocket, checking the message. “I don’t work today, apparently.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Eponine texted and said it’s too dead for me to bother showing up.”

“I can get that with the heat,” Courfeyrac called from the kitchen. He was filling cups with ice water.

“It wasn’t this hot yesterday,” Grantaire said. “Or this morning.”

“It is July,” Combeferre reminded.

“Enj, can I get your help with something?” Jehan pulled Enjolras up from where he sat on the floor, tugging him into his room.

“What’s wrong?” Grantaire looked to Ferre when the door was closed.

“I have no idea.” Ferre shook his head. “I’m going to freeze yoghurt so we can have popsicles later.”

“Why haven’t I ever thought of that?” Grantaire flopped over on the couch so he was laying on his front again.

“Oh! R, I heard you have a crush.” Courf called with a grunt.

“You heard that from me, ya dingus.” Grantaire ruffled his curls, trying to get some of the heat out from the black mess.

“You know it’s illegal to have se-”

“Woah, Courf-” he sat up- “I never said anything about that.”

Courf laughed. “I’m not letting you live this down. He’s not even 18, man.”

“I’m hardly two years older than him. Two years isn’t a big deal. I’ll just wait ‘til he turns 18 to say anything, so you don’t lynch me in the back yard or some shit.”

“Two years isn’t bad at all, R,” Ferre encouraged.

Enjolras and Jehan came out from Enjolras’s room. Enjolras was holding a couple of bandanas, Jehan donning one of Enjolras’ baggy T-shirts.

“Can I get to the sink for a second?” Enjolras requested of Courf. The older stepped aside and Enjolras let cold water run for a few seconds before soaking the bandanas under the water flow.

“Tie this around your head.” Enjolras handed one to Courf, Jehan, and tossed the last one to Grantaire. “Keeps your dark hair cooler.”

“You’re amazing.” Grantaire sighed blissfully as he tied the knot at the nape of his neck. “Oh god does this feel good. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. It’s one of the few useful things I ever learned from my father.”

“Oh, my god.” Courf bounced on his toes. “Let’s contact the others, have Joly or Feuilly bring water-balloons and let’s fuck each other up.”

“I’m texting Joly!” Grantaire’s fingers were already flying across the screen of his phone, the pads of his fingers leaving little smudges from having tied the almost dripping bandana.

#snafu and freddie's imagine shoppe #read your imagines #les mis fanfic #modern les amis #enjoltaire #courferre #bossuet #jehan prouvaire #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #courfeyrac

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

Text

OC Interview - Terasas Feldspar

The rules are simple: pick an OC, and then answer these interview questions in-character for them. Then tag five more people to keep it going!

I got tagged again by @melissagt so I wanted to do two more: one for Terasas Feldspar, and one for Tyar Kiht. Since I don’t think people know a lot about Terasas other than what I’ve vaguely mentioned of him in previous posts, I thought I’d start with him.

Like with the Raz interview I picked a particular point in time in his life to answer these questions, which for the sake of clarity I’ll make it the same as when I answered Raz’s questions. Terasas would be 33 at this time.

Tagging: @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @athiefswarwriteblr @nusaran @kunoichi-ume @francestroublr

1. What is your name?

I’m Terasas Feldspar.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

It’s similar t’ my pa’s name, which was Tessir.

3. Are you single or taken?

I just got married t’ a wonderful gal named Mynai. I’ve been infatuated with her since I met her back when we was teenagers, but she was with my best friend back then. It’s really something else that not only is she back in my life, she’s now my wife.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

I’m a pretty decent swordsman, and good enough with a bow t’ go hunting on occasion. I don’t really fancy myself as being anything particularly special.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I don’t know what that is.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green.

7. How about your hair color?

I in’t got any hair, but my fur is sorta this reddish-brown color.

8. Have any family members?

I’ve got my daughter Ariya, whom I had with my late wife Valika. My little girl is my world. I’d do anything for her and t’ protect her. She was a surprise definitely...Val and I weren’t married when she was conceived, but I can’t think of life without Ariya. The first time I held my daughter I... I can’t even describe the sort of love I felt.

My parents aren’t around any more. I wish Ariya could’ve met her grandparents. She looks so much like my ma, and I think the two really would’ve gotten along well.

Like I said before I just got married t’ Mynai, and I consider myself a really lucky man. I didn’t think I’d find love again after Val died, but here I am... here we are. I’m not sure if or when we’re gonna have kids of our own; it’s come up, and we’d both like t’, but right now Mynai wants t’ just adjust t’ being Ariya’s stepmother.

I’ve only got one sibling: my half-sister Dirna. She’s also Raz’s half-sister, so we’re kinda like brothers in that way too. My ma was her mother, and Raz’s pa was hers too.

Speaking of Raz, he’s like my brother. He hasn’t always been there when I needed him, but he’s getting better about it. He helped Ariya and I get t’ safety when true night returned t’ the world, and came back when there was a killer here in New Coalfell and helped put a stop t’ it. Even with small things he’s getting better, like he helped watch Ariya while Mynai and I were off on our honeymoon. My friend needs t’ stop being so hard on himself. He’s a better person than he thinks he is.

9. Oh? How about pets?

I in’t much of a pet person. Besides, until recently I was a single father, and I couldn’t’ve handled looking after my child and a pet.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

I in’t a big fan of most alcohols. Wine just about does it for me.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I like t’ go hunting and fishing when the stars align. My pa used t’ take me if he ever won a big hand at cards when I was little when he’d have enough coin t’ be gone for a day or two. Fishing is really calming. I like just sitting by the stream for hours without much care.

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

I try not to, but everyone’s made mistakes. I’m no exception.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

Yes. Before becoming guard captain I was a guardsman like any other, and unfortunately that means sometimes I’ve had t’ use lethal force. There was a bandit attack when I was living in Brightscale that I helped defend against, and I killed some bandits during that raid, including the bandit captain leading the attack. That was my first really big battle.

14. What kind of animal are you?

I in’t an animal...

15. Name your worst habits?

When I fall deep asleep I tend t’ snore pretty loudly. Val used t’ joke about smothering me in my sleep just so she could get some sleep of her own.

I’ve also been described as having a “savior’s complex.” Like, I just want t’ help people. I don’t mean it in a bad way, but some people’ve responded less than favorably t’ me tryin’ t’ help.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Raz. My friend is trying so hard t’ make things right that he doesn’t realize he has already. I’m not sure I would’ve been able t’ step away from the life he was leading if our lives were switched. It takes a lot of willpower t’ stay away from stuff like that after falling into it.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I’m straight.

18. Do you go to school?

No. When Raz and I ran away as teenagers that was the last I’d gone t’ school.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I never want t’ marry again now that Mynai’s my wife, and I in’t losing her.

We’ve talked about having kids, and we both want to, but we’d have t’ be careful about when we do. Ariya’s normal has already been changed once in a pretty drastic way, and I’d want her t’ be ready and understand that she’d be having a little brother or sister. So, for now, Mynai and I are being careful t’ not conceive until everything’s right.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

None that I know of, but I do get t’ meet some grateful people around New Coalfell. They help the job feel rewarding.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Anything happening t’ my family. I went through the pain of losing one wife, and I couldn’t do it again. I don’t even want t’ think about losing my daughter.

22. What do you usually wear?

Just a white collared shirt and trousers at home. When I’m on patrol I wear my guardsman uniform with chain mail armor underneath. It’s good protection, but gets really hot in summers.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

Okay, so Val used t’ own a bakery, and she used t’ make this one meal that I hadn’t heard of before her. It was, like, this dough that had tomatoes mashed into a sauce on it with cheese and some meats, all baked in a stone oven. Not really a pastry, and not really bread either. It was divine.

24. Am I annoying to you?

*shakes his head*

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Okay.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Middle I guess? We in’t struggling with our money, but we couldn’t buy some of them nicer places out there either.

27. How many friends do you have?

I’ve got a nice handful of friends; a strong community around me here.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Val and I would make pie in her bakery on days where I was off-duty sometimes.

29. Favorite drink?

Apple juice.

...oh, like alcoholic? Red wine.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Our home back when Val and I were living in Brightscale. It was a total wreck when I first showed up there, and Val got a lot of people t’ help me rebuild it after the bandit attack. It was right by a river, so when we were drifting off t’ sleep we could hear the water rushing by. We were also separated a bit from the rest of the town, so it was like our own small piece of paradise as a family. I loved the walk back t’ it from work.

Unfortunately Brightscale became a ghost town after the plague hit, and Ariya and I were forced t’ leave it behind when all the survivors migrated t’ Boulder. Val’s ashes are buried there. Sometime I’d like t’ take Ariya back, but I don’t know what that area’s even like anymore. Could be bandits in the area, or predators, or anything. I’d want t’ make sure it’s safe first.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

*Terasas points to his wedding ring*

32. That was a stupid question…

A little bit, no offense...

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Lake.

34. What’s your type?

Uh, my type? Honestly I in’t been with enough women t’ have a type, but if I had t’ say it’d be intelligent women who are outspoken. Confidence goes a long way for me, but not arrogance. She has t’ be kind too.

I tend t’ first notice a woman’s eyes first. I don’t know why, but a woman with beautiful eyes seems t’ be what catches my attention.

35. Any fetishes?

F...f-fetishes? N-no...I mean, everyone’s got things they enjoy doing in bed, but I don’t think it counts as a fetish...

Wait, what am I saying? None of this is your godsdamned business! No one needs t’ know I like doggyst...- wait, I didn’t say that before! Delete this part! Delete this p-

36. Camping or outdoors?

*Terasas straightens himself, brushing down his ruffled fur while clearing his throat* What was that? Camping or outdoors? Ooh, what a great, perfectly normal question like all the other ones you’ve asked so far.

Camping. When I feel like it’s safe out I like taking Ariya out for a few nights like my pa used to when I was little. She in’t a big fan of the hunting part of it, so I usually do that by myself along with the skinning and cleaning of the meat afterwards. We have a good time sitting around the fire afterwards eating together. I hope she enjoys it too. I know those memories of my own father mean so much t’ me, and I hope it’s the same for her.

#terasas #terasas feldspar #catfolk #khajiit #oc interview #tabaxi #coalfell #rogue: the razimarr quartz story #rogue #my writing #ask about my ocs #my ocs

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kalis-scribbles · 6 years

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Fan Character: Evander Lynn Aguilar

The First Solomon Fan Character is here and submitted by @flomaker778800

Bio data

Name: Evander Lynn Aguilar Age: 14 ~ Birthday: November 11th Ethnicity: Mixed, White/Mexican ~ Nationality: American Gender: Trans Boy/Non-Binary, Assigned Female at Birth Sexuality: Bisexual Pronouns: Mostly goes by He/His, but some days likes to go by They/Them.

Kali’s Note: I’m putting the rest under the cut because it’s quite an elaborate entry.

The Magic Stuff

Previous Practices: N/A - Has never practiced magic but has enjoyed books about magic and loves learning about the various gods and magical creatures. Has very little knowledge about the Practitioners world.

Would like to Practice: Really anything would be great, but has a particular interest in charms and runes. He hopes to use them to bring luck and prosperity to his friends and family, and maybe learn a few hexes… just in case.

Consort: A garden snake with small, blunt horns named Freddie. He’s a piece of the ancient god Aengus from Celtic/Irish Myths. He is dark shades of green and grey eyes, with the small horns sticking up just behind his skull. He’s very clever, charming, and silly, often making himself grow/shrink/disappear/reappear instead of gesturing when he talks. He’s the piece of Aengus linked to young love, youthful exuberance in general, and poetry so he has a tendency to ‘ship’ people at (Seemingly) random and then proceed to tease them in an overly poetic way, even if he’s not very good at it.. Although he may not be the most social Consort at first, he can be very open and chatty when he gets to know someone.

Relationship with Consort: Best Bros

Boon: The ability to balance the energies surrounding any creature or human. To align their Energy (Aura,Chi,Qi, basically chakra balancing.) At it’s most powerful it can fully heal a person of energy related diseases and bring mental clarity and calm. In small cases it can ease anxiety and can temporarily alleviate most types of depression/anxiety and dissociative disorders, giving the afflicted time to process and better understand their condition.

Price: You cannot deny your feelings or run from them. Ignoring your thoughts to appease others or avoid things is strictly forbidden and will result in headaches/migraines, hot/cold flashes, white-out vision, and in extreme cases fainting or blacking out. If you hate something you must admit that you hate it to yourself. If you love something you must admit you love it to yourself. Even if you’re conflicted or feeling both at once. If you are not in balance, you cannot balance others.

Initiation: It was spontaneous for Evander, but Freddie had been watching him for a while and waited until he was old enough before introducing himself.

School Information

Grade:

Class Options: Herbology and Potioncraft, Astrology, Charms and Talismans, Runecraft Cultural Class: Neoplatonism (Mostly because he’s very curious about what the heck that is.)* Phys. Ed.: Gym and Pool Cultural Enrichment: Cuisine (Loves to make Mexican food and is very good at it.)

*a school of philosophy developed by Plotinus in Rome, based on a modified Platonism, and postulating a single source from which all forms of existence emanate and with which the soul seeks mystical union.

The Who

Background: Their birth name is Evelynn, and is the younger of a set of twins. Their twins name is Elise, and they have two older brothers Asa and Martin. His mother is Hispanic and his father is Caucasian (Whitey-white-white). Since they come from two very different ethnic families, they’ve had to deal with the duality of two very different family traditions, so they already have a familiarity with adversity. But it has also caused them inner conflict since both sides also tend to be closed minded. There is also a heavy expectation for them to remain traditionally female for any family events and holidays. Since Evander is very well practiced, they don’t really mind it but it gets frustrating at times when they talk about other gay people. The only one who knows and accepts that their trans is their twin.

In school, his best subjects were literature and Math, and he would often spend his lunch time in the cafeteria kitchen as a volunteer server (Mostly because he had no real peer group, but also because they like to cook). Or they’d go to the library and listen to music on the computers while they read. He’s become very good friends with the librarian, the lunch personnel, and the janitors. In class, however, he tends to pick and choose what he wants to learn and asks a lot of questions about the things he’s interested in. Driving the teachers crazy. He still manages to do his other work, it just takes a bit more time for him than everyone else.

Appearance: They’re tall for their age, standing at about 5 ‘3’. light brown skin and dark, straight hair cut into a mens comb-over style. Blue eyes and a tube body build, which helps them blend in as a boy. They still need a chest wrap or, in their case, a couple tight sports bras. They aren’t very muscular or particularly flabby, but they aren’t weak either. At first glance, they might have a resting indifference-face, but will always perk up and smile when they notice someone staring at them, usually giving an awkward chuckle or cringe or both.

Other Things About Evander

They’re a fast runner, and somewhat agile,

Has never really been in a fight where they’ve fought back so they’ don’t really know how strong/weak they are.

They also like to do Parkour and freerunning, but rarely actually have a space to do it effectively.

He doesn’t live on a farm by any means, but he wants to start raising his own chickens for eggs and meat. And make a garden for other things he wants like grapes and berries.

His fears include: heights, any small hole/s, particularly strong winds.

Their Boon gives them an advanced ability to understand the people around them. This helps them move easily from one group to another. A lot like a social chameleon, but it’s not really their cup of tea. They prefer working one on one with people and can get easily overwhelmed by intense energies coming from people with emotional imbalances. This is suppose to work as a form of sonar for finding people in need of help, and sometimes it works, but sometimes it ends up hurting them too much and they need time to recoup. Freddie has been helping them learn to meditate and center themselves so they don’t need as much time to escape as they did before.

The full backstory of how they met

It happened spontaneously when Evan ran from his house, his family had been really getting to him that day, and went to visit their favorite spot. They usually hike down the side trails along the highway by their home; but one trail leads away from the town to a tree growing in the middle of a large, grassy field. A beautiful place to hide.

After crying under the tree for about an hour they were startled, and tripped over themselves trying to get away from, a random, talking snake that fell onto their head out of the tree. Freddie had been watching him come the tree for a while, noticing his loneliness and anger. But also his openness and want for change. So Freddie made his appearance and offered him an opportunity to become a Practitioner. Evan gladly accepted.

Unfortunately, at the time, they didn’t quite realize that they were so in denial and conflicted about their sexuality and their families manipulations, so the first two weeks was full of mind splitting migraines, hot flashes during sleepless nights, and fainting at school. After being admitted to the hospital and put under special watch, they began the process of understanding themselves. Freddie by their side and offering them words of understanding to help them through. After beginning to accept themselves, the symptoms lessened and, over the course of five more months, went away almost entirely. They admitted to themselves who they were and switched his reading interests to world religions and mythologies, Freddie guiding him to certain ones and telling him what was true and false.

They just about died the day they received their Application Form*, but was also thoroughly terrified. They decided to start off at this school 100% new and completely changed their style. They cut their hair, got new clothes, shoes, and a new music player fully stocked with anything you could imagine. He’s stoked to be away from his family and learning more about this Magical new world. Even if he regrets it.

Kali’s note: *Spontaneous students don’t get so much a invitation letter as two agents of the inquisition to gently brainwash their relative and possibly not so gently drag them to Solomon Academy.

Flo’s comment: Lord have mercy, i’m so sorry (TuT)

#Solomon Academy #Solomon Fan Subs #flomaker778800 #submission

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lonelypond · 7 years

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Santa Cutie And The Christmas Cookie Queen

Love Live, NicoMaki, 6.5K, 1/3

Another year's worth of Christmas fluff. Maki Nishikino is the heir to North Pole Nishikino Industrial, touring factories for manufacturing tips. She won't settle for anything less than the best Christmas cookie ever. Nico Yazawa is a local TV news personality in quiet Tudor, Pennsylvania. She won't settle for anything less than her own media empire. They meet one stormy night on a bridge. But have they met before?

Storming Into Town

HERE:

Tudor, Pennsylvania. Any breaking news would have to wait as two of the most prominent women in local news had just sat down to their monthly lunch and gossip at the Round The Corner diner. Which was not around any corner and instead provided a stellar view of the most congested roadway in the county.

Ignoring the view, Channel 10 news personality Nico Yazawa, dressed for the weather in a light pink sundress, ebon hair in a ponytail, put down her fork and frowned at the fair haired woman opposite her, “You can’t just stalk my cameraperson. You have to actually ask her out. I gave you her number.”

“Can’t we do a trade. Like the NWSL?” Channel 15 news anchor Tsubasa Kira, tailored and trousered, hair teased, chuckled.

Nico’s crimson eyes sparked with indignation, “You don’t need a daredevil camerawoman and I do. Plus, Nico doesn’t do sports anything.” Nico decided she was finished with her salad, pushing the plate to the edge of the table

“But there’s athletes and legs and shorts and muscles and sports bras and...I know you like legs.” Tsubasa bit into a drumstick, leering.

“No class. That’s why you’re trapped in a small media market, Tsubasa.” Nico raised her hand, palm out, head shaking. The waitress dropped her chicken and waffles on the table. “Nico likes comfort food day.”

Tsubasa wiped her fingers on a napkin, “So why is Nico trapped in the local market?”

Nico batted her eyelashes and blew Tsubasa an empty kiss. “Nico is not trapped. Nico is the next Martha Stewart so Nico is building her fanbase and considering her options.”

“Romantic options as well?” This Tsubasa was genuinely curious about. She and Nico had been friends for almost half a year and while she knew Nico was gay, she had no idea if Nico was dating, had ever dated or was at all interested in dating.

Nico ignored the question, mouth full of waffle, “Ask Honoka out. Give yourself a treat.”

Tsubasa sighed and turned to look out the window, picturing a ginger haired whirlwind of energy with the kindest, brightest blue eyes. Nico continued to chew, happy at her successful diversionary tactic.

THERE:

There was nearly always snow, in some form. An aesthetic choice, here at North Pole Nishikino headquarters, a bustling company town, long hidden away in a cleft in the Poconos, only approachable through reindeer flight or a secret access road from the coolest, craziest diner in any non urban American locale. Maki Nishikino, red hair windblown as always, lavender eyes nearing maximum merriness, only heir and proud protector of the Nishikino-Claus legacy, smiled at the light fluster of snow that blew across the back of the diner parking lot. Jym brought over her chicken and waffles and Rin Hoshizora’s triple sized bowl of ramen.

“The bowl’s as big as your head, Rin.” Maki tapped her knife on the edge, Rin fending it off with a large spoon.

Rin decided not to wait for revenge, brows lowered over determined green eyes. She rarely got Maki alone to talk. “Did Eli give you the “get married and continue the family” legacy talk yet?”

Maki hissed, glaring, eyes narrowing, knife and fork paused in the act of cutting her dinner into chewable chunks.

“Ha!” Rin pounded a hand on the table and her broth sloshed over the side of her bowl. She slurped some noodles before continuing, “I knew it. Eli had that look. Kayochin owes me a date.”

“Do you have to win bets to get Hanayo to go out with you now?” Maki’s eyes twinkled at her best friend, mirth cresting over aggravation.

Rin stuck out her tongue as Maki finally to bite into drippy chunk of waffle. Excellent gravy. This was her test meal for any diner she ran across in her travels and no one did gravy nearly this well, “No, I don’t. We’re getting married.”

Maki grinned, the engagement was a childhood joke turned tender reality. “I know. I heard you shout when she said yes. And I was in California.”

“So when are you getting married?” Rin continued speaking, even while slurping through her noodles, most of her attention on her meal.

Maki was tempted to knock Rin’s bowl off the table, but that would just make a mess for the staff, “That requires dating, Rin, and I haven’t dated anyone since freshman year in college.”

“Yep. Slow learner.” Rin shook her head, her voice mournful. “Kayochin and I had such hopes.”,

“I am not a slow learner.” Maki shouted, half rising out of her seat, then realizing the rest of the diner patrons were looking at her. She slumped back. “I just want…”

Rin snorted, staring incredulously at her second oldest friend. “You can not still seriously be waiting for someone who bakes Christmas cookies better than your great grandmother. That’s not normal. Kayochin and I looked it up. There are no cookie sexuals.” The boisterous Rin had never been more serious, “You were only 5 when you decided you’d marry someone who made cookies better than your great grandmother. You were supposed to grow out of it.”

“You were 5 when you decided you’d marry Hanayo.” Maki put more force into cutting through gravy soaked waffles than was actually required. Splatter made it to Rin’s ramen bowl.

Rin leaned forward, pointing index finger a stern rebuke. “Kayochin is not a cookie. Because you can’t marry a plate of cookies. You can’t kiss or hug or…” Rin paused, catching Maki’s blush. “Anything with them. And your great grandmother started off looking like a movie star and then grew into cookies and gray hair and twinkly eyes. “There are pictures. And that’s what your parents say.” Rin stopped, for almost a whole minute, unheard of for the for the energetic elf, then her green eyes brightened with inspiration. “So look for a movie star.”

Maki blew out enough air to stir Rin’s short bangs, “Celebrities don’t do homey.”

Rin’s finger tapped the table after each word. “Buy. A. Cookie. Factory. For. Cookies.” pause” Date. A. Pretty. Girl. For…”

Maki threw a forkful of gravy and chicken across the table.

CHRISTMAS IN JULY

Maki grumbled as she opened the door to her suite. Too hot. July, of course, everything and everyone was sweaty, especially when you’re spending your time inside factories, crawling around assembly lines, getting hands on training on the mechanics of assembly lines and robotic arms. At home, the factory floor was three times the size of most Maki had seen here and constantly busy but there, if Maki stepped outside or opened a window, there was a cool breeze and a hint of Arctic whatever time of day or year. Maki had not fully appreciated that until now.. Air conditioning was a poor and noisy substitute and the sounds and smells of downtown Tudor were unexceptional. She needed a taste of home but Rin would tease her if she texted or called again. So Maki opened up the TWIG app and typed #ChristmasCookies into the search. That would be no surprise to anyone who knew her. Her profile photo was a white plate with “Gimme Cookies” scrawled across it. The first picture in the box was a tempting pile of very crisp looking ginger snaps, darkly caramel in color, crystallized ginger shards scattered over the top...Maki’s mouth watered, she could almost taste the slight bite of bitter in the treacle sweetness of the molasses. She clicked through. The cookies had been posted by @StormCookie, whose avatar was a very cutesy cartoon girl in a pink apron, awkwardly balancing a plate of cookies. Her profile linked to To Weather Any Storm, a lifestyle blog for those gay and girl and single.

Caption: Testing recipes for my Christmas cookies well in advance. Santa appreciates having the best when he stops by (*｀▽´)_旦~~.

This is true, Maki acknowledged and surprised by a suddenly silly mood, found herself typing a response.

SantaChan: Papa prefers oatmeal cookies, but I’d definitely bring some of the reindeer by for yours.

The response was almost immediate.

StormCookie: Why hi there, @SantaChan (*＾▽＾)／. Does your Papa let you take the sleigh out often?

SantaChan: It’s the family business. I’ve been the official cookie tester for years (^-^)ゝ

StormCookie. Ho ho ha! You sound like Santa Cutie ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

Maki blushed. This was definitely silly, @ing some anonymous lifestyle blogger who happened to post a really appetizing picture of her favorite cookie, but it was so much better than admitting to Rin how bored she was. Or getting another lecture from Eli about how valuable modern methodology could be.

SantaChan Why #ChristmasCookies in July?

StormCookie To meet weirdos like you?

SantaChan ⊙︿⊙

StormCookie Only kidding. Check your messages (*・∀-)☆

Maki checked for a notification.

StormCookie Hey, @SantaCutie, kinda looks like Christmas is all year round for you from your pics but I take my vacation now and spend it doing some of my Christmas blog stuff in advance.

SantaChan Practical.

StormCookie Yep. I’d let you taste them, but TWIG doesn’t deliver.

SantaChan ( ・・)つ-●●●ԅ(º﹃ºԅ)

StormCookie ha! So what’s your story, Santa Cookie?

Maki stared at the walls of her suite, very vertical wall paper, practically colonial themed furniture, moderately comfy. She threw herself back into the nearly historical couch, stretching her legs.

SantaChan Bored. Just started living in a hotel for 6 months because of a work gig. Staring at the walls. They’re stripey. Now staring at the ceiling. Not so stripey.

StormCookie SantaSilly. Get up and take a walk.

SantaChan It’s hot out there. I like blizzards.

StormCookie The ice cream?

Maki snorted.

SantaChan The storm, @STORMcookie ^.~

StormCookie (❤ฺ￫艸￩) Have to run. But I’m making more cookies tomorrow morning (*´ー`)

SantaChan: Looking forward to it ԅ(º﹃ºԅ)

NOW:

Nishikino Maki, lavender eyes narrowed, lips in a tight smile, bucket helmet protecting her head, goggles protecting her eyes, revved her throttle as her motorcycle navigated Rt. 30, grip still holding in the middle of a mid November hurricane. Maki knew it was crazy but she was tired of being the dutiful daughter. Studying manufacturing processes and sitting through meetings was BORING. Five months of BORING. She missed the crazy moonlight rides in the open sled, cold winds whipping her hair back, reindeer dancing joyfully across any wisps of cloud they could catch. The motorcycle couldn’t replicate that but there was a zest in controlling so much of her current destiny. She cut across the wind, turning down a side street that would bring her back to her hotel. She revved halfway into the turn, then throttled down as she pulled off the highway.

She was nearing a particularly picturesque bridge, even in this low light. Surprisingly, Maki wasn’t the only one on the road in the storm. She could barely make out shapes, a large van, two figures, one petite in a pink raincoat, looking as if the wind might pick her up and flip her into the river at any moment, taking a full hit from a suddenly surging wave. Maki slowed down, dropped her bike before she got to the van and yelling “Stupid” while she sprinted toward the woman. As she leapt to save the woman from falling over, her boot caught on a tree branch hidden in debris and Maki stumbled forward, falling against her target, who had to drop her microphone to catch Maki in both arms. Maki screamed as they both fell forward, but the jerk of a safety harness stopped them, the woman’s arms wrapped tightly around Maki’s torso.

“NICO!” An enraged voice shouted over the wind.

Maki found herself staring into crimson eyes nested behind long, luxurious lashes. Two carved dark pink lips pressed together then mouthed “Don’t move” before shouting “Umi” over Maki’s shoulder.

Maki felt hands pull them both upright and hustle them toward the van. Her ‘rescuer” kept an arm around Maki’s waist while muttering words Maki could only make out a few of, “Perfect shot...Nico was almost...crazy…”

Crazy was probably a reference to her, Maki realized and then she was pushed inside a warm space, someone was pulling off her helmet and her rescuer had wrapped separate blankets around them both as Maki raised a wet, shivering hand to pull down her goggles. Then she stripped off her sodden leather gloves. A fawn haired woman shoved a mug of something hot in her hand and an orange haired woman kitted out in rain gear shut the van door behind them.

“That was exciting, Nico!” The ginger haired woman giggled, wiping down an expensive video camera with a chamois cloth.

“Too exciting thanks to…” Maki’s rescuer was very small and she’d unzipped her coat, placing her hands on aggressively cocked hips, crimson eyes bright and waiting.

There was a pause. The woman snorted and shook her head, turning away to grab her own mug of...Maki took a sip, coffee. The coffee committeewoman smiled gently, “I’m Kotori Minami,” she pointed to the ginger, “that is Honoka Kosaka and you probably already know Nico.

Oh, names. “Maki Nishikino.” Another sip as words turned into sense through a barrier of wet chill. “Why would I know Nico?”

Honoka doubled over, chortling, as the van door opened again, and another woman, this one with blued black hair threw in a safety harness, “Are you all all right?”

“We’re fine, Umi. Everything worked.” Nico (Maki was still trying out the name in her head) rolled her eyes, “This one doesn’t even know who she was trying to drown.”

“Hey!” Maki attempted to stand but was too tangled in cords and blankets. “I was saving you.”

Nico watched curiously as Maki tripped over her own boots again, almost tipping her coffee forward and was forced to sit back down abruptly.

Umi looked at Maki, amber eyes serious, “That was incredibly dangerous. You could have both been killed.”

Maki shrugged. Another safety lecture to ignore. Nico took a delicate sip of coffee, still watching Maki, lips a wire of disapproval.

“Let’s get going, Honoka.” Umi opened the door again and Honoka jumped out after her, both sliding into the front seats a moment later. “Can we drop you somewhere?”

“I have my motorcycle so no thanks.” Maki finished her coffee, inhaling some calm before she tried standing again.

Nico crossed her arms over her chest, “It’s a hurricane. 60 mile per hour wind. Debris.”

“I’ll go 70,” Maki winked, forcing herself not to shiver as she put the blanket aside.

“That’s not how it works.” Nico muttered, turning aside with a “This is stupid” as Kotori smiled gently at Maki.

“We have to get back to the station.” Umi announced, checking her phone.

“Station?” Maki paused at the door, puzzling over the glare Nico was giving her.

“Channel 10.” Honoka bounced, rocking the van, “I got some good footage before you crashed into Nico. Watch us at 11.”

“Oh. Okay.” Now this made more sense. Nico was a reporter. Maki watched little television but she was finding herself curious about the group of women in front of her.

Nico put her mug down with a clunk, “Thanks for trying to save me.”

“You’re wel...”

Nico cut Maki off, “Go home before Nico has to cover your next near fatal road accident.”

“We do weather and lifestyle, Nico.” Umi chided, giving Maki a wave. Honoka turned on the ignition as Maki stepped out the back. When Honoka hit the gas, everyone heard a metallic crunch, followed by Nico screaming “Honoka!”

The van turned off and Umi got out, wind and rain still whipping everything. Maki’s bike was unusable, the weight of the van having crushed her front tire and wheel frame. Umi shook her head, her voice apologetic, “I guess we will be taking you home after all.”

Maki was never going to intervene in a potential disaster again. They seemed to be contagious. And Nico had come around outside the van again, Maki’s helmet in her hand. “You forgot this, Red and Risky.” Her lips thinned again, disdain striking Maki as chillingly as the wet wind and dead leaves. “So much living dangerously.”

“It’s Maki” Maki snapped, losing her temper as she wondered what to do about the bike. “And I can live however dangerously I want.” No matter what my parents say, Maki continued in her head. This was an echo of too many recent arguments. She wondered if she’d made the Naughty List yet. Then she’d be having the “you need to come home” conversation with Eli and as bored as she’d been, she wasn’t ready to go back yet. But this incident had started from a positive impulse so she was probably covered.

“Maki.” Nico’s voice cut through wind and rain. “Get inside the van. We’re taking you home. You can call AAA on the way.”

“I’m at the Yorktowne.” Maki stated automatically. It wasn’t that far away.

“Not a local?” Nico asked, suprised.

Maki shook her head, taking the helmet and following Nico back to the van, “Studying manufacturing for the family business.”

“Ah,” Nico opened the door, “Harley.”

“And some other places.”

Nico jumped up into the van, suddenly cheerful. “Welcome to Tudor, Maki Nishikino.” And then she smiled, her crimson eyes and pink lips bright, guiding beacons that made Maki forget she was standing in a storm, and a warm hand took hers, pulling her up against the smaller woman again, “Nico hopes you have better nights from now on.”

Maki was safely back in her hotel room. She’d called a wrecker about picking up the bike so that was someone else’s problem. She’d stripped off her wet clothes, which meant ALL of her clothes and they were lying on a pile on the sink. The shower had been hot, but not warming enough. It wasn’t quite 11 so Maki grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the pile by the sink. She hadn’t posted to TWIG yet today and StormCookie usually posted around midnight so there’d be a chance the other woman would see it.

Soaked socks and underwear, not the most attractive pile, but very much the now thing for Maki. And a caption.

SantaChan: Got a little too close to the weather tonight （－－；

Maki never took a selfie or showed her face in her photos. She still only had a small number of followers and Rin, aka ElfCat, was her most frequent commenter, as expected of a best friend. But there was also StormCookie, who had become a regular presence since July.

Notification. PM. @StormCookie.

StormCookie: very suggestive for this time of night. Shocking. (∩╹□╹∩)

Maki blushed a little. If she were honest, that was exactly the sort of reaction she’d been hoping to get. Which was, she admitted, a little pathetic, to only flirt with someone she’d probably never meet and who didn’t know who she was. But then she didn’t get so nervous.

SantaChan: Too cold to care :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

StormCookie: Drink something warm and get under the covers, SantaChilled.

SantaChan: Suggestions?

StormCookie: Check my timeline out.

Maki slid through her feed. Half an hour earlier, StormCookie had posted a mug of hot cider, poured out of a beaten up old green Thermos. The caption read: Always carry this for rainy, windy nights.

SantaChan: looks warm.

Instant reply:

StormCookie: It is. Stirred with a stick of cinnamon to seal the magic in. Have to run. Call Room Service and get under those covers

ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

Maki sighed and threw herself on top of the pillow pile, grabbing the remote and the phone. Room service number she had memorized, now which station had that crazy cute group of news people said to watch at 11? 11 at 11? No, 10 at 11. It would distract her from thinking that she’d be a lot warmer if StormCookie were here, pouring her a drink of anything out of that beat up, family Thermos.

Nico had finished the live portion of her broadcast segments and Umi was putting the equipment away for the night. “Hey Umi?” Nico picked up a wrapped bunch of cable, following after Umi, “Do you have that biker’s number?”

“Yeah. Got all her information for the insurance claim.” Umi opened the storage cabinet, settling the camera on its shelf, taking the cable from Nico with a frown, “But I don’t know that you should use it for personal reasons.”

Nico leaned into Umi’s shoulder, “Nico would never do anything inappropriate.” Umi made a suspicious noise as Nico continued, “Nico wants to invite her to the studio so we can apologize. She seemed lonely.”

“She seemed mostly drenched.” Umi grunted, arms crossed.

“Why, Umi…” Nico started, after a half giggle.

“Don’t stretch yourself.” Umi’s smile was slow to spread across her chiseled features but sly, “Or I won’t give you her number.”

Nico chuckled, getting in a quick hug.“Text me the deets. How’s the propose to Kotori plan going?”

Umi grabbed Nico, tempted to shove her in after the camera, nearly lifting the much shorter woman off the ground, “Shush, Nico. Don’t mention that here.” Umi surveyed the room to see if anyone else had noticed Nico’s comment.

“Sorry.” Nico pulled out her phone, “Send the info. I want to call that redhead.”

“It’s nearly midnight, Nico.” Umi pointed out as she complied with Nico’s request, “Reasonable people are asleep.”

“We’re not.” Nico hit Call, “Thanks, best producer in the business.”

“Why is this so urgent?” Umi finished putting things back in their place.

“Nico will look cute tomorrow when we do the “holiday cookie” segment.” Nico’s smile hit full wattage as her attention turned to her phone call, “Hi, is this Maki? This is Nico….yes, we fell off a bridge together...just wanted to make sure you recovered from trying to drown Nico.”

Umi heard an indignant, “Drown? I was saving…” and went in search of her girlfriend, who had probably fallen asleep on a couch in the greenroom by now.

Well that was close to the most exasperating phone call Maki had ever been a party to. She glanced at the clock on her phone. And at 12:01 in the morning too. Just because Maki had watched the show and answered her phone didn’t mean she’d want to spend her lunch break tomorrow touring the station and watching a holiday cooking segment. Besides, elves didn’t really wear green, slouchy hats with bells on them. Rin usually worked testing sports equipment in a North Pole Nickshikino ball cap turned backwards. Rin had bought them for everyone as a joke three years ago and it had turned into uniform wear for all the elves in her section.

Still...the rest of Nico’s crew had seemed nice. And Maki still hadn’t met very many people in Tudor yet. Not that she’d be staying much longer. But she should probably go to inspect the holiday cookies. After all, that’s what Rin had put on her business cards. Maki had wanted to go with just a simple “Maki Nishikino, North Pole Nishikino Industrial” but Rin had gone behind her back and convinced the printer to add “Christmas Cookie Tester and Santa, Jr.” Which meant Maki couldn’t actually hand them to anyone and Rin gave them to everyone they met whenever she and Maki were together.

Messaging Rin.

M: Hey, Rin, thought you should know, tomorrow, I fulfill my most sacred duty.

Rin was actually awake. Well, this was the season of endless overtime.

R: Giving Santa an heir (ᗒᗨᗕ)

M: Shut up, Rin. That’s not what I meant. And if it was, I wouldn’t tell you.

R: (*≧艸≦) what’d you do?

M: Going to test Christmas cookies 且_(・_・ )

R: Made by a cute girl (ﾉ∀`♥)

M: No. A reporter.

R: Maki made a friend (ʘ言ʘ╬)

H: You met someone! Who?

Of course, Hanayo was awake and Rin had shared this wild rumor the elf was creating, based on one text from Maki. Maki shook her head at her best friend, glad Rin wasn’t in the room to see the blush.

M: I didn’t. I just thought Rin would like to know I’ll finally get to use my Christmas Cookie tester business cards. It’s nothing major.

R: SEND PICTURES!

M: No.

R: ( p_q)

H: Have fun, Maki (*´∇｀*)

R: KISS THE COOKIE GIRL (~￣³￣)~

M: Thanks, Hanayo. Go to sleep Rin.

R: (~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~

H: Good night, Maki.

R: (~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³

And another victory for Hanayo in the wrestle Rin for her phone competition, Maki thought with a grin. Taking care of reindeer (and dating the constantly in motion Rin) actually kept her seemingly unathletic friend in excellent shape. Maki looked forward to spending time with both of them once she got back home. Too bad things were too hectic this time of year for them to make a quick visit. Hanayo would have enjoyed all the colonial architecture and cozy Christmas decorations downtown. And Rin would have enjoyed teasing Maki.

Rin pulled her phone back, glaring at her smiling fiancée, “Hey, Kayochin! I was having fun with Maki.”

Hanayo smiled, fingers gently petting short orange hair as Rin lay in her lap, “You were teasing her. If you make Maki self-conscious, she won’t go.”

Rin pouted, “She better send pictures.”

Hanayo giggled, “She will if the cookies are good.”

Maki had spent the morning working on painting and finishing a Harley so her jeans were spattered with paint and metal polish, but she didn’t have time to change. Pulling the Harley ballcap over her sweaty hair, she parked her rental in the news station’s lot, trying to figure out where the main entrance was so she could find a receptionist to guide her. Nope. Went in what turned out to be the back way, wandering gray corridors, with a few people rushing past her.

“Can I help you?” A young woman with a clipboard and an earpiece asked politely.

“I’m here to see Nico.” Maki shoved her hands in her bomber jacket, holiday wreath embroidered on the back, her last name on the front. Nico had said anyone could point Maki to her, but the redhead became more nervous as the young woman looked her up and down, then spoke into her mic, “Ms. Yazawa, your lunch appointment is here.”

“Maki!” Maki heard a yell behind her and whirled. Nico was rushing through a set of double doors, wearing a sleek red dress, decorated with holly leaves and candy canes. Her crimson eyes sparkled, her lipstick was candy cane striped. Maki wondered briefly how you got that effect as Nico took her arm, pulling her back through the doors. “I had Honoka posted at the front door, watching for you.”

“Sorry. Came in the closest door.” Maki pushed her hat back a little, suddenly self conscious about her clothing choices as she noticed how well the lines of Nico’s dress fitted the smaller woman curves.

“Not a problem, Nico found you.” Nico was wearing heels that brought her nearly up to Maki’s height and moving faster than Maki merging into a highway. It was impressive, “We have time for a short tour before Nico’s segment. Honoka’s really sorry about your motorcycle.”

“It’s okay. Insurance is handling everything.” Maki muttered as they approached a kitchen island set, with a stove behind it, decorated with oversized candy canes and gingerbread men. Nico smelled like mint.

“Nico is glad you weren’t on the bike.” Nico paused, letting Maki’s arm go, and leaned back against the island, arms stretched out, dark, shiny hair bouncing against its bows, leg raised so her foot rested on the stool behind her, “And that the hurricane blew out. Nico loves the thrill of weather stories but right now, I’d rather be inside near a warm stove.”

Silver flakes scattered across Nico’s lips seemed to be catching the light, drawing Maki’s attention. She wondered if the texture of the flakes would be smooth or scratchy to the touch and looked up to see Nico’s eyes watching her speculatively. Self conscious again, Maki felt too warm in her jacket but all she had underneath was a tattered t-shirt so she shoved her hands further into her pockets and nodded, taken in the details, seeing a plate of Christmas cookies and moving toward them, “Did you make those?”

Nico glanced at the plate of exquisitely decorated sugar cookie snowpeople. “Oh, Nico is using those in the shoot. They look perfect. Like Nico.” Maki was amazed Nico could say something like that without a pause or blush. But Nico just continued to smile at her.

“Hey Nico!” A shout. Maki recognized the black haired producer who’d taken her insurance information. “They need to check your mic.”

“Sorry. Nico will be right back. Don’t touch anything.” Nico winked and whooshed away, leaving Maki open mouthed and awkward. And surreptitiously grabbing a cookie from the bottom of a pile, one whose absence wouldn’t be missed at all. With two quick bites all the evidence would be gone. Two quick bites Maki was sorry to have taken, she thought as she chewed discretely, the oversweet sandiness of the cookies disappointing.

“Hi!” Another wind whooshed in, the ginger haired cameraperson, “Nico said you snuck in past me.” A hand was extended in Maki’s direction as startled, she choked down the remnants of cookie.

“Hi!” Maki shook hands, trying to remember the name, “Honoka.”

“Sorry about your bike. Nico and Umi were so mad at me.” Honoka didn’t sound upset at that at all. “Any more moving vehicle incidents and Umi’s not going to let me drive so at least your bike was parked.” Blue eyes blinked cheerfully at Maki, “You work at Harley?”

“I’m kind of interning. Studying assembly processes.” Maki decided that was the best answer.

“Cool. Nico said you weren’t from around here.” Honoka ignored all the bustle around them as Nico got into position on the set.

“Poconos.”

“Cool.” Honoka nodded.

“Usually.” Maki chuckled, Honoka looked puzzled for a second then grinned.

“Good one. We’d better move away from the set.”

“Don’t you have to run a camera?” Maki wondered, as both cameras had operators behind them. The set was very bright and isolated, cables running everywhere.

“Nah. Umi’s got me keeping you out of trouble instead.” Honoka headed toward a couple of folding chairs, “We can watch from here.”

Nico, now wearing the supposed “elf hat” had been a whirl on the seat, mixing and grabbing and smiling and kneeling down to assist a little girl onto the counter, where she and Nico sang one of Maki’s favorite Christmas carol, “Jingle Bells.” Then Nico interviewed a local woman collecting toys for inner city families and gave a few fireproof your tree tips.

“This is Nico’s favorite time of year,” Honoka whispered.

“Really?” Maki smiled as Nico perched on the counter, elf hat askew, candy cane lips wrapping themselves around the words to “Happy Holidays.”

“So leave a peppermint stick for old St. Nick hanging on the Christmas tree” Nico crooned as Maki substituted peppermint lipstick in the lyrics and tried to keep her attention on whatever Honoka was saying. But Honoka had paused too as Nico swung one well toned calf over the other and blew a kiss toward the camera.

“Yep. She always makes a huge plate of cookies for everyone.” Honoka licked her lips and leaned back, hands linked behind her head. “And brings leftovers for sandwiches the day after her big family meal.”

Maki remembered the gritty taste of the cookies and wondered about Honoka’s enthusiasm. Nico waved at the camera as she finished, winked at Maki, let someone take the mic off her and bounced over to where Maki and Honoka were sitting.

“I saw you singing along. Nico did well, right?” Nico chirped at Maki, offering her a candy cane.

“Impressive.” Maki nodded, as she stashed the candy cane in her pocket and pulled out her pocket watch, inherited from her great grandfather on the Claus side. The dial had a chimney with stars at the numbers and a moon at the apex. “But I have to get back.”

“Nice setup here right, all the latest tech.” Nico bragged as she tilted her head, curious fingers almost reaching for the pocket watch.

Maki closed her watch. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nico that the North Pole studio set was five times the size with channelled grooves for cables so she put the most awed look she could muster on her face, remembering Nico’s crossing her legs as she sang. “Thanks for inviting me to stop by, Nico. I enjoyed it. Good luck with the rest of your holiday segments.”

“Thanks.” Nico didn’t move as Maki stood, and once again the redhead found herself nearly in the arms of the newscaster as Nico frowned, looking around. “You didn’t get lunch. I packed you a sandwich. Where’d it go, Honoka?”

“Oh, that was for Maki.” Honoka fumbled Maki’s chair as she stood, “I ate that one. I thought it was extra. Sorry.” She tapped Maki on the shoulder, “It was a really good sandwich. You could tell Nico cared.”

Nico glared and muttered, her toe tapping an increasingly urgent rhythm. Honoka headed toward the exit, with a furtive air.

Maki shrugged, “Thanks for the thought.” She considered for a second and took a hand out of her pocket, offering it to Nico. Nico stared down at it, then into Maki’s eyes until the redhead ducked her head, breaking eye contact. Nico took Maki’s hand with a sigh, her handshake warm and firm. Maki was surprised at the strength.

Maki tried to break the handshake but Nico didn’t let go, her other hand covering Maki’s. “Let Nico take you out to lunch sometime, since you missed out today.”

Oh. Maki felt her face redden and her throat constrict. Oh. She pulled her hand back with a sudden backwards leap, “Um...um...I’m pretty busy. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Nico suddenly looked shorter and Maki was a little sad for upsetting her. “Just turn on your tv. Nico is always there when people need her.”

Maki inhaled, squaring her shoulders, reaching out a not noticeable to anyone but her trembling hand to Nico’s shoulder, “Thanks, Nico. It was nice to see some friendly faces.” And then she smiled, trying to show Nico that she appreciated the offer. Which left Nico a little breathless and a lot confused as Maki speed walked out of the building, a lingering warmth spreading from Nico’s shoulder as the memory of a shy, sweet grin etched itself into Nico’s heart. She turned, puzzled about Maki’s reactions and spotted Umi with her hand in the Christmas cookie pile.

“No, Umi, don’t eat those.” Nico yelled.

Umi paused, a cookie halfway to her mouth, “The shoot’s over. We don’t need them anymore.”

Nico’s heels clicked as she rushed across the floor, “Jill the PA made those.”

“So what?” Umi’s brows furrowed as she examined the cookie.

Exasperated, Nico grabbed the cookie and tossed it into the garbage, “Thanksgiving Day leftover chili Jill the PA…” Nico rolled her hand at Umi, trying to lead her producer to the answer.

“Thanksgiving Day left.....” Umi had a vivid memory of half the staff rushing to the nearest trashcan two hours after the potluck lunch and Kotori coming back from Urgent Care with a with food poisoning diagnosis the Friday after Thanksgiving. Plans to visit Kotori’s family had been torpedoed by cold sweats and disinfecting. Umi hastily dumped the remaining cookies into the trash under the counter, washing her hands for twice the required time.

“So what do you think of Nico’s rescuer?” Nico piled plates into the sink as Umi dried her hands.

“Maki?” Umi handed Nico a plate, “Did you ask her out?”

“She said she was too busy.” Nico bit her lip, “But she seemed surprised at the idea.”

“Do you think she’d not gay?” Umi asked.

Nico shook her head, “Nico knows when someone doesn’t mind looking at Nico.”

“According to Nico, if I remember rightly, Nico is everyone’s favorite view, the reason our ratings are top of the market.” Umi chuckled, glancing at her phone.

“Ha ha,” Nico leaned into Umi, enjoying the friendly warmth, “Nico is serious.”

Umi let Nico rest for a minute, considering, “You have her number. Try again. Maybe she’s nervous. Try texting.”

“Is that how you’re going to ask Koto…” Nico teased.

“Be at the van in 20 minutes,” Umi moved briskly toward the exit Honoka had taken, “We have to get out to the Tree Farm.”

Nico pulled her hat off her head, smiling at it fondly as the bell tinkled, “Today, Nico is a Christmas elf.”

“Ditch the heels and the height’s…” Umi lingered in the doorway.

“Next time I’ll let you eat the poison cookies.” Nico threatened, leaving the hat on the counter for a PA to deal with.

“Honoka can’t navigate without me.” Umi’s voice carried back.

“Nico has GPS!” Nico shouted, then laughed at herself as the people scurrying to strike the set decorations stared at her.

After a day made longer by a stomach that had decided not to agree with something she’d eaten, Maki got into her hotel room, tossed her hat toward the desk and fell into the sofa, whipping out her phone. She blamed the cookie. Rin would be disappointed.

SantaChan: So @StormCookie, why can’t the girls I think look cute ever cook?

The reply was immediate.

StormCookie: I look cute and am the best cook you’ll ever meet.

SantaChan: and yet, I see no pictures. Or location.

StormCookie: 1. Celebrity, can’t reveal identity. Bosses wouldn’t appreciate side gig.

SantaChan: we’re dm’ing

StormCookie: nothing on the internet is private. 2. Also, Cute is more than looks. Or are you that shallow? Shallow is NOT cute.

Maki snarled at her phone, tempted to toss it after her hat. Then she breathed out, shaking her head at herself. No need to let a bad mood fester. Or inflict the sour taste in her mouth on someone who had become a friend.

SantaChan: Sorry, just grumpy. I’m tired of never knowing what to do when someone’s cute and I feel like a grubby, awkward slob. Plus, I ate bad food.

StormCookie: Ooh, sorry about the bad food. I had to save someone from that today

Maki wondered where StormCookie had been when she needed her.

StormCookie: Have room service bring you ginger ale or ginger tea. And you are obviously 100% Cute Girl™. Don’t worry. Dating’s simple. You can try out my easy system. It’ll be a good listicle for my blog.

SantaChan ●.◉

StormCookie: Trust me. First step: get out of your hotel room.

SantaChan: No.

StormCookie: Go see a movie. Eat dinner somewhere with simple food -- and flirt with a waitress. For practice. It’ll take your mind off things that didn’t go right.

SantaChan (▼-▼*)

StormCookie: Trust me. Get out of your hotel room ᕕ(╯°□°)ᕗ At least go downstairs to the restaurant. Or find a bar with a pool table.

SantaChan: There’s a place with pinball machines….

StormCookie: See, that sounds fun. Get out of your hotel room.

SantaChan (-｡-; All right.

StormCookie: Ginger ale first and nothing spicy (＾-＾)＿日

How could Maki get room service to deliver StormCookie to her room? That would be the easiest solution. The best parts of Maki’s days were the nights when she and StormCookie would just chat.

SantaChan d(-_^)

StormCookie: Then get out and talk to someone.

SantaChan ∠(^ー^)

StormCookie: Let me know when you need Step 2.

SantaChan: Thanks. Good night (⌒.−)＝★

StormCookie: Have fun! That’s an order （σ｀・∀・´）σ

Maki left her phone on the table and pulled the blanket up to her chin. How long did she have to wait until the nightly news? Would Nico’s segment look different edited. Nico. Maki stared at the ceiling -- not stripey -- and pictured Nico in front of her, so close she could smell the peppermint her lips must taste like, crimson eyes bright and warm. Maki wondered what would happen if she texted Nico after the broadcast to find out if the lunch offer still stood.

A/N Hi there. This year I'm channelling The Shop Around The Corner and You've Got Mail rather than Hallmark or Lifetime movies, but the intent is still to be so much gayer than any Christmas content you'll find on your TV, while giving still giving you that good old fashioned holiday fun feeling.

Enjoy!

#nicomaki #Love Live #Christmas #yazawa nico #nishikino maki #nozoeli #hoshizora rin #sonoda umi #kosaka honoka #minami kotori #tojo nozomi #koizumi hanayo #Santa Cutie And The Christmas Cookie Queen #ho ho ho #Yes Maki is Santa Jr #are you surprised

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hueman-blog · 7 years

Text

Answering Personal Questions

I made a user I follow, @razzledazzlefoshazzle , answer all of these on his blog. I’m feeling guilty so I’m gonna do it too. I know none of you asked but HERE GOES MY PERSONAL INFO!!!

200: My crush’s name is: Averi  199: I was born in: Place? Lancaster, PA, USA. Year? 1999  198: I am really: Bored and unmotivated  197: My cellphone company is: Apple  196: My eye color is: Brown  195: My shoe size is: 8-9 Women’s US  194: My ring size is: Idk, something little  193: My height is: 5'4" I’m little  192: I am allergic to: Stupid people  191: My 1st car was: Never had one  190: My 1st job was: Cashier at California Tortilla (a fast food Mexican franchise around D.C.)  189: Last book you read: Cradle and All 188: My bed is: My safest place, my true home, and also too empty  187: My pet: Doesn’t do much  186: My best friend: Is my girlfriend  185: My favorite shampoo is: Shamu  184: Xbox or ps3: Deck of cards  183: Piggy banks are: Cute decoration, inefficient coin collector  182: In my pockets: I’m in pajamas  181: On my calendar: Work, as that’s the only thing in my life scheduled. Also a haircut within a few days  180: Marriage is: Great for legal benefits, stupid for expensive ceremonies  179: Spongebob can: Please end soon it turned idiotic long ago  178: My mom: Is abusive (sorry to bring the mood down)  177: The last three songs I bought were? Who buys songs anymore??  176: Last YouTube video watched: History of the World  175: How many cousins do you have? On my dad’s side, 8. On my mom’s side, no idea  174: Do you have any siblings? An older brother  173: Are your parents divorced? Nope  172: Are you taller than your mom? Probably not  171: Do you play an instrument? Nope  170: What did you do yesterday? Absolutely nothing just like every day

[ I Believe In ]  169: Love at first sight: Nope  168: Luck: Yes  167: Fate: Nope  166: Yourself: Not really  165: Aliens: Yeah there’s gotta be some life out there  164: Heaven: No  163: Hell: No  162: God: The Flying Spaghetti Monster? Hell yes. Be boiled for your sins  161: Horoscopes: Nope and frankly if you do I find you uneducated  160: Soul mates: No  159: Ghosts: Nah  158: Gay Marriage: Believing??? In love,??? And commitment??????? Between two people???????? Obviously!  157: War: Never  156: Orbs: I believe in Orbeez  155: Magic: No it’s just science we can’t explain, or illusions we can’t see the entirety of

[ This or That ]  154: Hugs or Kisses: Kisses  153: Drunk or High: Music  152: Phone or Online: Online on my phone  151: Red heads or Black haired: Black haired  150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes  149: Hot or cold: Hot  148: Summer or winter: Summer  147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn  146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate  145: Night or Day: Night  144: Oranges or Apples: Apples  143: Curly or Straight hair: Straight  142: McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds  141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk Chocolate  140: Mac or PC: Mac!!  139: Flip flops or high heels: Flip Flops  138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: ugly and sweet are opposites now?? I guess sweet and poor  137: Coke or Pepsi: Fruit Punch  136: Hillary or Obama: Obama  135: Burried or cremated: Cremated  134: Singing or Dancing: Singing  133: Coach or Chanel: Money to spend on actual useful things  132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Who???  131: Small town or Big city: Big City  130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target  129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Both suck, but I’d choose Stiller  128: Manicure or Pedicure: Manicure. My feet are too ticklish  127: East Coast or West Coast: West Coast USA  126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas, I don’t like being the center of attention  125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate  124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney  123: Yankees or Red Sox: What is a sport? How do??

[ Here’s What I Think About ]  122: War: What is it good for? Absolutely nothing  121: George Bush: “Mr. President, what are your thoughts on Katrina?” “We’re gonna find her. And we’re gonna bring her to justice.“  120: Gay Marriage: Its a marriage between two people in love. Celebrate, but don’t go broke in one day  119: The presidential election: Media and rich people control it basically, and I’d rather it be an actual democratic popular vote. Trump is a clown and should have never won  118: Abortion: Its a woman’s right to choose. Personally I think the world is overpopulated anyway and more people should adopt rather than try to conceive  117: MySpace: Never had one  116: Reality TV: Scripted, not reality  115: Parents: Good or bad, they influence your whole life because they were there at the start. Mine went bad and ruined me  114: Back stabbers: Oh I love them- what?? They suck. No one should be betrayed like that  113: Ebay: Never used it but it got the ball rolling for Amazon  112: Facebook: I only use it to message/call my friends, and to see unlimited amounts of dogs  111: Work: It’s a necessary evil  110: My Neighbors: Quiet, the only one I met was a total bitch though  109: Gas Prices: I don’t drive  108: Designer Clothes: C'mon people there are way better uses for your money  107: College: Shouldn’t be expected of teenagers  106: Sports: Boring, overhyped, the players overpaid  105: My family: Worthless, judgmental pricks  104: The future: Uncertain

[ Last time I ]  103: Hugged someone: Sunday (3 days ago), when my friend picked me up from work  102: Last time you ate: Italian ice about 1.5 hours ago (8:15pm)  101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: A month ago  100: Cried in front of someone: A month ago maybe??  99: Went to a movie theater: Many many months ago  98: Took a vacation: A year ago  97: Swam in a pool: Two years ago?  96: Changed a diaper: Never  95: Got my nails done: My 16th birthday I think (almost two years ago)  94: Went to a wedding: Eight years ago?  93: Broke a bone: Never  92: Got a peircing: I was 14 and got my ears pierced (almost 4 years ago)  91: Broke the law: Never  90: Texted: A minute ago

[ MISC ]  89: Who makes you laugh the most: My friend Brad. He’s so inappropriate but his jokes I cannot stop laughing at  88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: Not paying bills other than Internet  87: The last movie I saw: Coraline  86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Moving to California  85: The thing im not looking forward to: Paying for rent in California  84: People call me: To friends: Lys. To family: Alyssa. To my girlfriend: Lyssy. To everyone else: annoying  83: The most difficult thing to do is: Get up out of bed every day  82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Nope I do not drive  81: My zodiac sign is: Cancer  80: The first person i talked to today was: My friend Jessica  79: First time you had a crush: Preschool, this boy in my class Marshall  78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: Myself  77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: Yesterday, idk?  76: Right now I am talking to: My phone in the way of typing  75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Survive hopefully. I also wanna be a flight attendant  74: I have/will get a job: Have a job as assistant manager of an arcade  73: Tomorrow: I’m going food shopping and seeing my annoying cousin Barbara (she has two boyfriends and they both treat her like shit. It’s not poly it’s just cheating)  72: Today: I actually made a meal that was nice  71: Next Summer: I’ll be living in California  70: Next Weekend: I have to face my parents for the first time since February. I hate it  69: I have these pets: A ball of moss named Mo  68: The worst sound in the world: My girlfriend crying  67: The person that makes me cry the most is: My father  66: People that make you happy: My girlfriend Averi  65: Last time I cried: A few weeks ago??  64: My friends are: Averi, Raven, Jessica  63: My computer is: My phone  62: My School: Is nonexistent  61: My Car: Is also nonexistent  60: I lose all respect for people who: Hate on others for no reason  59: The movie I cried at was: Toy Story 3  58: Your hair color is: Black  57: TV shows you watch: None  56: Favorite web site: Tumblr usually  55: Your dream vacation: California  54: The worst pain I was ever in was: Once I got constipated a few months ago for 48 hours. I screamed  53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium  52: My room is: Either super messy or super clean. Right now messy  51: My favorite celebrity is: Jacksepticeye  50: Where would you like to be: In my girlfriend’s arms on a beach  49: Do you want children: Right now I don’t think I ever would but if I ever did I’d adopt  48: Ever been in love: Yes I am now  47: Who’s your best friend: My girl  46: More guy friends or girl friends: Girl friends  45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Sleeping  44: One person that you wish you could see right now: AVERI  43: Do you have a 5 year plan: Stalin did  42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: Nope  41: Have you pre-named your children: I did with my ex. Never again  40: Last person I got mad at: My grandmother  39: I would like to move to: California  38: I wish I was a professional: Sleeper [ My Favorites ]  37: Candy: Swedish Fish or Nerds  36: Vehicle: Volkswagen Beetle  35: President: Biden  34: State visited: California  33: Cellphone provider: Cricket  32: Athlete: Me, running from my responsibilities  31: Actor: Eddie Redmayne  30: Actress: Anna Kendrick  29: Singer: Laura Jane Grace  28: Band: Against Me!  27: Clothing store: Thrift shops  26: Grocery store: Safeway  25: TV show: Adventure Time  24: Movie: Wall-E  23: Website: Pornhu- I mean Tumblr  22: Animal: Red Panda  21: Theme park: Disney World  20: Holiday: Christmas  19: Sport to watch: Extreme Chess Mega X  18: Sport to play: How Late Can I Get Up Before Concerning My Family  17: Magazine: :enizagaM  16: Book: The Underneath  15: Day of the week: Saturday  14: Beach: Any beach  13: Concert attended: Fall Out Boy x Paramore  12: Thing to cook: Pasta with alfredo sauce  11: Food: Bacon egg & cheese on a bagel  10: Restaurant: TGI Fridays  9: Radio station: Night Vale Community Radio  8: Yankee candle scent: Ass  7: Perfume: Averi’s  6: Flower: Averi  5: Color: Orange - the color of Averi’s voice  4: Talk show host: John Oliver  3: Comedian: Bo Burnham  2: Dog breed: Corgi  1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Hell yeah I wouldn’t lie to you

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

now there's green light in my eyes ch. 1

author ladyalix

cw / alcohol

ship: trixya

1920s/Great Gatsby AU for Trixya! Trixie is a Milwaukee girl visiting her cousin Pearl in New York, Katya is a Russian refugee in the bootlegging business, murder and lovers and speakeasies and general 1920s New York fun ensue! Trixie, Katya, Kennedy, and Pearl are cis girls, Max is a cis man, and Violet is a gay/genderfluid Italian gangster who does drag!