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liiacsuns · 6 years

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Carry On Countdown, DAY 7.

Day 7, DEC 1: Your favourite trope

“He got in a fight again,” says Penny one day while we’re studying in the library. She’s the only one who’s studying really, but I like being here with her.

“What are you talking about?” I ask

“Baz. He got in a fight again. First time in a while.”

“Oh that. I know, I was there,” I answer with a shrug and she starts freaking out.

“What? Why? Wait nothing happened to you, right?”

“Of course not Penny, I would have told you. I just saw it happen when I was going back home, nothing much really.”

“Oh, I see. Do you know why?” she asks.

“Why would I? I don’t talk to Baz, and I couldn’t exactly ask the other guy why he got beaten up, could I?”

“True. I’ll ask Trixie, I’m pretty sure she’ll know. She always knows this kind of stuff.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to her?” I say, remembering all the times she complains about her roommate.

“I can do an exception for our local punk. I want to know what got him back into fighting,” she says with a smirk.

“And I’m the one obsessed,” I sigh.

“Oh shut up you know you were. And don’t tell me you’re not curious too”

“Actually I’m not. I honestly don’t care about why Baz got into a fight, unless it’s with me. And it wasn’t with me, so I’m not going to complain. Now please, can we go back to studying?”

“You’re not even doing it, you spent the last hour staring out the window,” she teases with a laugh, but goes back to studying.

Penny wasn’t the type to listen to gossips before we got into college, but now she kind of does, especially when it’s about Baz. He’s in our year, tall, rich, arrogant. Apparently his style is punk (leather jackets, ripped jeans, piercings, combat boots…) and he’s supposed to be my enemy and to hate me since we first met, two years and a half ago. The first two years, the only interactions we had were to throw insults and snarky comments at each other, and him getting into multiple fights a week, but it stopped at the beginning of this year. And again, I’m not complaining, it was tiring.

I stay with Penny for one more hour, before leaving the campus to go home. The flat I’m renting is small, not especially the best, but I don’t have a roommate and I’m close to everything, so I deal with it. I’m there in five minutes, and there’s someone waiting in front of my door. Jet black hair, pale as ever, dressed in all black. I smile as he sits up and hugs me from behind while I open the door.

“Penny is really interested about your fight,” I say with a smile.

“Bet she is. What did you tell her?”

“That I witnessed it but didn’t know the reasons behind. And that I don’t care at all,” I answer, laughing.

I can’t say anything else, I’m in his arms and he’s kissing me slowly, his jacket already on the couch. So fast. I still have my coat and my boots on, and he’s already comfortable, like he’s the one living here. He’s not, even though it sometimes feels like it.

“I like the pink”, he says later, gesturing to my sweater.

“I thought your favorite was the yellow one?” I tease.

“It is, but I like the pink too. And I can’t believe I’m talking about pastel colours and which one is my favorite,” he says with a smile.

“Oh poor Basilton, can’t handle a bit of colour?” I mock.

“Not on me. But on you I don’t mind.”

“That’s really fortunate because I’m not becoming a goth cliché for your pretty eyes,” I end with a laugh, before kissing him again.

We end up snuggling in the couch watching Stranger Things (I already binge watched the entire season, but I insisted on showing it to him), and it’s a perfect night. We don’t talk about the fight, or Penny, or school, or anything. We don’t have to, and don’t want to. I was actually there when it happened, and I know what happened. He fought with that guy because he was making fun of me (it turns out that wearing only pastels is pretty gay, and people don’t really like it). But I can’t really tell her that, because then I’d have to tell her that actually, Baz doesn’t hate me at all, and that the only thing we fight about is what we’re going to watch or eat.

It’s not that we’re ashamed or anything. But after two years of hatred and rivalry and all that, it would be too much to deal with, and we don’t really want to. DOing our thing on our own without the world knowing is fine. I kind of like this option more to be honest, there is just the two of us, without people asking questions or trying to learn more about our story and everything. We have our lives, our friends, and we don’t mix them, but at the end of the day he comes over to my place and we have our own little bubble, only the two of us, and that’s perfect.

“Should we tell people about us?” he asks suddenly, staring down at me.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

“I’m not sure. I like this, coming here and spending the night with you and all, without having to care about other people. But at the same time it would be nice to be out you know? Like, be able to hold your hand or kiss you in the middle of the library, things like that.”

“We would get kicked out,” I say with a laugh. “But I see what you mean, yeah. Maybe we can start telling people? Like not right now, and not everyone, but tell Penny, and Dev and Niall you know? Go slowly?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. The pastel kid and the punk brat. Everyone’s going to freak out.”

“That would make a great movie title,” I joke. “But I don’t really care you know?. I like the punk brat, and you’re not actually a brat when we’re together. So I don’t mind your reputation.”

“Be careful, you’re starting to be sappy,” he laughs, and I flip him off.

#####

I’m with Penny again, in the cafeteria this time, sitting across from her, trying to listen to what she’s saying as I eat. She’s talking about the last book she read I think, so it’s not that bad that I don’t actually listen. I don’t read, I don’t like it that much. But a few minutes later, I hear Baz’s name, and I suddenly pay attention.

“Wait what?” I exclaim, a bit too loud.

“Are you even listening to me?” she sighs. “I was saying that I still don’t know why Baz got into that fight.”

“Seriously Penny? It’s been like a week, can’t you move on?”

“I told you the same thing for a whole year when you were obsessed with him, you don’t have any right to tell me to move on, okay?”

I want to protest but she’s right, I was totally obsessed with him last year. I don’t really know why, to be honest.

“I really don’t understand what got you so obsessed with him,” she continues. “I mean, yeah he’s kinda hot and all but still.”

“Okay first of all it wasn’t for his looks. And second, he’s not hot, he’s beautiful, that’s common knowledge.”

“Always so cheesy Snow” I hear Baz say suddenly. I look up and see him standing beside Penny, smirking. “Already cheating on your boyfriend Bunce? Or has the great Simon Snow finally found someone?”

“Oh shut up Baz,” Penny says, irritated.

“Actually we were talking about you,” I say with a smile, and I can’t help but smile even more when I see him slightly blush.

“Me being hot isn’t something new, I thought you both knew that,” he immediately says, and I want to wipe that superior smirk off his face. But that would be inappropriate here.

“Oh we know, that’s what I was saying to Penny. I see you’re still full of yourself,” I joke.

“I always am, you know that,” he answers before leaving, and Penny’s automatically staring at me with wide eyes.

“Okay what was that about? Since when do you guys talk? Or flirt, whatever the hell that was.”

“We have a project to do together for a class,” I say with a shrug.

“You do? Really? Why did you choose him?”

“I didn’t, the teacher made the groups. Turns out we can be together in the same room without being at each other throats.”

“That’s weird. Super weird. But cool I guess, unless you start becoming obsessed with him again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good.”

I’m glad she doesn’t ask more questions. I’m not good at lying, especially when I’m lying to her. And I don’t like it, because she’s my best friend, and pretty much my only friend since Agatha left for California.

#####

It all started with a serious conversation. It’s friday evening, Baz came over and we were talking about telling our friends about our relationship. But now I’m on his lap, neither of us have a shirt on and we’re kissing like there is no tomorrow.

My hand is in his hair, and he’s tracing abstract patterns on my chest, and I don’t care about breathing, or opening my eyes or anything else, just his tongue in my mouth and his lips against mine. I like when it’s passionate like this. I know that later we’ll both have marks on our necks and collarbones, and he’ll probably curse me tomorrow because “fuck Simon how am I going to hide this, it’s like the size of Texas for fuck sake!”, but right now I honestly don’t care, and judging by the noises he makes when I suck and bite on his skin, he doesn’t either.

I’m too focused on Baz, on kissing him and making him do that noise again, because fuck, that’s really really hot, and it gets to me every single time. I don’t hear the door opening and someone coming into the living room. I’m too busy kissing the air out of him and almost grinding on him. And suddenly I hear a scream. I immediately pull back, and Penny is here, eyes wide, and I’m breathless, so is Baz, and we’re half-naked, there’s already a few hickeys on his neck, and probably on mine too, and the only thing I find to say is “Oh hey Penny, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t “hey” me Simon Snow. What are YOU doing? Like, both of you,” she exclaims.

“I don’t think a drawing is needed Bunce, is it?” Baz intervenes

“Oh don’t sass me Basilton, we both know I can sass you back. Explain to me what the hell is happening and since when do you guys make out instead of fight.”

“Okay, calm down Pen, we’ll explain. Just- just let us get dressed,” I say, gesturing for Baz to put his shirt back on. He groans, but does it anyway.

Penny’s sitting opposite of us, her hands folded on her lap, and I can tell she’s listening closely, that she doesn’t want to miss a single word we say. I explain, I know Baz will mess things up if he does, I tell her about how we got together almost three months ago, that we were planning on telling her soon but we wanted to keep our little bubble of safety for a bit more.

“What about that project? Is that a lie too?” she asks

“No, we do have a project together. It’s just that it’s not that one that got us together you know. We already were.”

She doesn’t take it badly. I know she wouldn’t, but I was afraid she would be mad at me for hiding it. She seems to understand though. She even jokes a little with Baz, and it’s almost surreal. A moment later, I realize that she’s not supposed to be here, and ask her why she came. She wanted to watch Harry Potter with me, but decides to leave us alone to “do our gross things” and goes home about half an hour later.

As soon as the door closes, I’m on my bed, Baz hovering above me, kissing the hell out of me, and I don’t complain a bit.

Thanks again @blackintheskies !! :3

#carry on countdown #coc #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Love Is A Losing Game - Trixya - 1/? - Kitten

Hello! Long time no post! This little thing just came to me after listening to one of my favourites; Amy Winehouse. Title and chapter titles will be named after her songs. If you don’t know her well, I suggest listening to everything now, but it won’t really matter to the fic. I said I was going to write fluff, but that’s something I can’t do so I compromised with this…

Lots more angst and smut to come!

Kitten xxx

(P.S) Sorry I know it’s another lesbian AU, but all my other fics are gay guys so you can stfu.

Four years.

Four years since Trixie had seen that face.

That face. That perfect face. The face that could light up a room with one blinding smile. The face that could make her heart swell with pride and love. The one face she wanted to see when the sun rose, again when it set, and every moment in between. The face she’d tried desperately to erase from her memory, and it was brought back into her life by one very simple noise; a door opening.

“Hey Trix.”

The sound of her voice made Trixie’s blood run cold and a sweat prickle at the base of her spine. She didn’t even need to look up from the box of vinyl records she was organising to know that it was Katya’s voice, she’d been hearing it every night, in her dreams. Trixie stayed silent as she looked up at her, allowing herself a moment to process if this was real or just another fantasy of her. She knew it was real because her hair was longer than she remembered, falling in waves just past her collar bones, not sitting cropped at her sharp jawline

“Get out.” Trixie’s voice was barely beyond a whisper, but Katya heard her, a visible wince crossing her face at the request.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have come here, but I just need to tal-”

“I said get out.” She hated how tears filled her eyes, burning hot tears of rage and sadness and need. They clouded her eyes, just like how Katya would cloud her judgement if she stayed any longer.

THE LAST NIGHT

Breathless sighs filled the night air as the pair writhed between the sheets. A soft giggle came from Trixie as Katyas mouth captured her nipple.

“I thought we were going asleep, I have work in the morning baby.” Painted pink fingernails dragged through Katyas blonde hair, scratching against her scalp lovingly.

“I couldn’t sleep knowing my beautiful girlfriend was so wet next to me.”

“Yeah well, that goodnight kiss was hot, and you keep doing that.” To prove her point, Katya nibbled at her earlobe, and like magic, Trixie spread her thighs.

“Good girl.” Katya whispered into Trixie’s ear as she slipped her pink cotton panties to the side and swiped a finger along her lips. The pair lay tightly together, Katya listening intently to Trixies breath hitching as she circled her clit. She looked so beautiful as the moonlight cast over her, Katya thought. The way her thick black eyelashes rest against her high cheekbones when she shut her eyes in pleasure, and how bright her blue eyes looked when they shot open as Katya finally curled two fingers inside her.

“Oh my god, Kat, that feels so fucking…” Trixie hid her face as she moaned, hips bucking to meet Katyas hand, letting the palm of her hand rub against her clit. Katya rocked with her, their movements flowing perfectly in sync.

“Shush baby, I know. Look at me princess, let me see that beautiful face.” Katya straddles Trixies thighs, keeping her hand exactly where she needed it to be. Pressing their chests together, she captured Trixies lips once again as she continued to make love to her girlfriend. Whimpers and content sighs passed between them, the blankets enclosing them in their own little world. Trixie pulled back from the kiss, blushing at the intense gaze of Katya.

“Stop staring at me baby.” Trixie whinged as Katyas movements became more intense, her fingers hitting her g-spot harder with each roll of their hips.

“I’m sorry baby, but I can’t look away. I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. But, I am the one getting fucked.” Trixie laughed as Katyas eyebrow cocked at her tone.

“You bitch.” Katya feigned looking hurt, but smiled at Trixies moan as she added a third finger.

“Kat. Kat, I’m gonna…”

“What baby? You’re going to what?” Katya couldn’t help but grin at Trixies reply; her walls clenching around her fingers and nails digging into her back. Peppering delicate kisses along her neck and chest, she continued to fuck Trixie through her orgasm.

Blinking her way back to reality, Trixie pouted at the loss of Katyas body against hers as she climbed off her hips. Before she had the chance to complain, Katya pulled Trixies hips into the crook of her own, tucking her knees behind Trixies.

Looking over her shoulder at Katya, Trixie asked"What’re you doing? It your turn.“

"Not tonight peach, you have work.” The black eyeliner that Katya had forgotten to remove was smudged down her cheek, and she looked exhausted.

“Are you sure? I want to make you feel good.”

“This makes me feel good.” She tightened her arm around Trixies waist and kissed her shoulder blade. “Go to sleep, beautiful.”

“Goodnight baby.” Sleep already sounded heavy in Trixies voice, but Katyas eyes stayed wide open as she listened to her girlfriends breathing deepen.

Katya let her hand dance across Trixies stomach and down to her milky white thigh, tracing out delicate patterns as she went. Absentmindedly, she began to draw flowers and love hearts, little birds, song lyrics, and finally “I L O V E Y O U”

“I love you too.”

Katya jumped at Trixies voice, moving back so her girlfriend could turn in her arms. Her blonde tresses looked wild on the pillow, her cheeks pink and lower lip pulled between her teeth.

“Do you mean that?” Katyas voice was filled with worry as she searched Trixies eyes desperately.

“Of course, do you?” Trixies continued to worry her lip as she waited for an answer.

“More than anything Trix. I love you so much.” The pair lay in silence for a moment, small smiles spreading across their mouths as they met for a kiss.

“Well, tonight is full of firsts isn’t it. Us saying "I love you’s,” you not cumming, what’s next? Alien abduction?“ Trixie giggled at Katyas eyes widening at the suggestion.

"I hope so! I could be the next Ellie Arroway!”

“I swear to god. If you make one more fucking contact reference in this bed you can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Okay you really need to get to sleep.” Katya kissed Trixies forehead as she tucked her face into Katyas neck, breathing in her scent.

“I love you.”

“I love you too baby.”

_________________________

Katya groaned as Trixie prodded her awake. “Baby come on, I need to go open the shop up, give me a kiss.”

“Mmmmno. You NEED to get back into this bed at once.” Her eyes still hadn’t opened to the morning light yet, covering them with the blanket.

Placing her hands on her hips, Trixie sighed. “Do you know how unfair it is knowing that my sexy girlfriend will be lounging in my bed all day in lacy black underwear, waiting for me to get home from work. How do you expect me to get anything done?”

“Sexy you say?” Katya pulled the most hideous face she could muster as Trixie groaned. “Is this why you love me?”

“Every other reason, aside from that baby. Now, kiss, I need to leave.” Katya finally sat up and kissed Trixie for too long, and not long enough all at once.

“Okay, every other reason aside from the ugly faces AND the morning breath. I’ll see you at 6 baby!”

“See you at 6! I love you Trix!”

“I love you too doll!” Trixie shouted back as she slammed the door behind her.

But when 6 came, it wasn’t Katya she found in her apartment, but rather the absence of her. And everything she owned.

All of her clothes taken from the drawers Trixie had given her in her night stand. Her toothbrush gone from the bathroom. Her picture frames from the mantel. Her movies and music missing from the shelves in the living room. Trixie rushed around, looking for any remaining trace of her girlfriend, something left behind, a note explaining when she’d be back? But there was nothing.

Nothing apart from the deafening message of “Sorry, the number you tried to reach has been disconnected.” Calling their friends, no one had seen or heard off of Katya since at least 3 days prior. In once last attempt, Trixie called Katyas boss at the vintage clothes store where she worked.

“Trixie, I was hoping you could tell me what was going on actually. She came in today and handed in her resignation and just left. I don’t know what’s going on?” Jinx sounded as concerned as Trixie did.

“No, I just came home and she’s gone. How did she look?”

“Honestly? Not good. Like she was in a panic, she didn’t seem too with it.”

Trixies heart sunk at the possibilities of where she could be or what could’ve happened to her.

“Okay, thanks J, I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” With that Trixie let her phone fall from her hand, and she sunk to the floor not long after.

#trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #kitten #love is a losing game #angst #smut #lesbian au #rpdr fanfiction

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lifegoeson-wecarryon · 7 years

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YouTube AU Chapter 6

YouTube AU That-STILL-Doesn’t-Have-A-Name-Yet Words: 1105 AU Summary: Simon and Baz are popular YouTubers with a rivalry. Chapter Summary: Trixie receives a message. Keris goes to class. Someone new watches Trixies art stream. Keris distracts herself from the cocky kid who can't take a hint. First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

{ Gaaah! I keep posting chapters late, sorry! Also this chapter isnt really the best lmao i hate it but at least im giving you some new characters haha }

[ Trixie ] I get a text from one of my "Snowbaz Correspondents." Philippa lives in the same town as Agatha, Penelope, and Simon. It's an attachment, so I have to wait a bit for it to download. When I open it, I see Agatha walking with a man. I let out a squeal when I recognise him. Keris is sitting at our table reading, and looks over at me, so I rush over and show her the picture. "Is that..." "It is!" I smile brighter at her, and she smiles back. "Does this mean the rumours are true, then?" "Keris, we have to go. I can't miss this and you know it." She leans over to kiss my cheek, and I giggle softly. "I already bought them when Agatha posted that she'd be going. I figured that you would want to see her, Penny, and Simon together before she moves." I respond by climbing into her lap and saying "thank you" in between kisses.

[ Keris ] We only break because I have classes. I go to school at West Herts College. My favourite class is Creative Writing, which I am heading to now. I have Interior Design directly after. I walk in a few minutes early, and Professor Salisbury is sitting at her desk, reading Attachments. She's told the class that we're allowed to call her by her first name, Lucy, but doing that just makes me feel awkward. I set my stuff down at my desk, and she looks at me, that bright smile of hers quickly forming on her face. "Keris, may I speak with you for a moment?" I feel my heart beating faster as I nod, walking over to her. (I always get anxious when professors ask to talk to me. I know I shouldn't be, especially with her, but I can't help it.) "What is it, Professor?" She shakes her head, but knows by now that I won't call her Lucy. She opens a drawer and pulls out a flyer, handing it to me. "Watford Area Arts Forum Literature Competition." She says. "You want me to enter?" She nods, slowly. "Only if you want to, of course. This years theme is Magic, and the word limit is 500 words. I feel like you'd do well, so good luck!" "Thanks..." I say, shoving the flyer in my back pocket. I quickly head back to my seat, just as Salem walks in. Fucking Salem. I swear, he's only taking this class to torture me. Thankfully, Professor Salisbury starts the class before he can say anything about the lipstick on my neck.

[ Trixie ] I'm chatting with my friends and drawing in my stream, when I notice a new username in the chat list. I blink a few times, and then rub my eyes. It's Penny! Wow. Simon Snow's best friend is in a Snowbaz Art Stream. I mean, it's no secret that she ships them. But I never imagined that she'd come to one of my streams! I have to hold back a squeal- my mic is on, and so is my video. Okay, Trixie. Play it cool. "Is it just me," I say, "Or is the great Penelope Bunce, Simon Snow's best friend, watching my stream?" I look over at the chat.

pennyforyourthoughts: Oh hey, you caught me.

I smile, softly. But really, I'm screaming on the inside. I feel myself getting nervous, and I make a few mistakes on my current drawing. I decide to work on it later- it's a big project thing, anyway. Instead, I pull up a drawing meme and ask for suggestions.

QueenElspethTheFourth: Draw Simon in e3!

I chuckle a bit. "What am I going to do for the baby, then?"

mintygreenwithenvy: lmao make a snowbaz lovechild QueenElspethTheFourth: Oh my god, yes. DO IT.

I laugh again, but give in to their demands. I draw the quick doodle, giving the baby blue eyes, curly black hair, and freckles. It's so adorable, I have to save and post it later. I save the image, but I can't figure out what to call it. I type 'Simon and', before pressing my brows together in frustration. "What should I name her?" I ask, but the chat grows silent. "Come on guys, she needs a name!"

pennyforyourthoughts: I just had the best idea. pennyforyourthoughts: What if you name her Natasha Scone Snow-Pitch?

"Oh my god!" I can't help but giggle. "That's so cute, oh my god." I type in the name, and save it. "How'd you come up with that?"

pennyforyourthoughts: Natasha was Baz's mum, yeah? He told me once that he wants to name someone after her. mintygreenwithenvy: aw, thats so sweet!! pennyforyourthoughts: And giving his kid the middle name 'Scone' is definately something Simon would do, lmao. QueenElspethTheFourth: Imagine Simon trying to tell everyone that her first name is Cherry. pennyforyourthoughts: There's a 500% chance that he would do that. Yes, good.

"This is so beautiful, I'm gonna cry..." I say, as I dramatically pretend to wipe a tear from my eye.

[ Keris ] I might enter that competition, actually. It'd be good practice- I don't write about magic often. And those tickets did cost a lot of money. I could use the extra cash. Although, I'm not very good at word limits. When I start writing something, I write and I write and I write. When I'm done writing, it's two or three times that length. "Daydreaming again, ain't cha?" I sigh, suddenly remembering I'm in class. "Can't blame you, Miss Lucy is ridiculously boring." I turn around to face him, he's getting on my nerves again. "Then why are you even taking her class?" "'Cause I'm a generous guy, and I know you can't get enough of me." I roll my eyes and turn back to the front. "It's more like I always get too much of you." "Keep telling yourself that, babe." I know he's wearing that stupid grin of his- I can practically hear it form on his face. He continues to try and talk to me throughout class, but I ignore his efforts. Instead, I think about Trixie. She's probably livestreaming right now. I think that's all she does at home. Either that, or watching videos on YouTube. I've been thinking about starting a channel, actually. But I'm not sure what I would do on it. I'm a quiet person, so I wouldn't really vlog. I don't play video games or do make up. And I can't sing- Trixie says I sing beautifully, but I don't really think so. The only things I really love are Writing and Trixie, but I don't know how I can possibly share that on film.

#carry on #snowbaz #Penelope bunce #Trixie and keris #youtube au #snowbaz youtube au #Simon's story pile

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sincerelybluevase · 7 years

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This unbearable heat

For an anonymous Tumblr user, who asked me whether I could write a fic with sexual tension between a married Shelagh and Patrick. This left me with a lot of freedom, so I hope it lives up to your expectations, anon ;).

The heat is unbearable. The grass lays yellow and limp, scorched and thirsting for rain that doesn’t fall, despite the clouds dark as bruises that dot the sky.

“A storm is brewing,” Shelagh tells Angela as she rocks the infant on her hip.

Just like my headache, she can’t help but think. The pressure behind her eyes is horrible. If she could she would put herself to bed and sleep for ages. As it is, she hasn’t had time to rest; Angela is teething and has been out of sorts all day. The little girl clung to Shelagh as she tried to do her housework. Shelagh still has to do the dishes and she hasn’t even started on dinner. She guesses that she should be glad that Timothy is eating at Collin’s place tonight. However, she has a hard time being happy with her stepson at the moment, since she snagged her stockings whilst tripping over his cricket bat (it’s a complete mystery to her how the thing came to be in the middle of the living room in the first place).

Then, when she finally got Angela settled, she walked into the table, causing her favourite tea cup to hurl to its death on the floor whilst staining the carpet in the process. Her seconds of clumsiness resulted in a nasty stain and a crying infant. Still worse is that said crying infant then proceeded to vomit all over her dress. Shelagh had no other choice but to grab another dress, because walking around in a slip simply won’t do. The one she picked is hardly more appropriate, though; she bought it because Trixie assured her she would look ‘positively radiant’ in it, but all Shelagh feels when she wears it is exposed: it ends well above her knees and the neckline shows off her collar bones. The only good thing she can think of it is that it keeps her somewhat cool in this tropical heatwave.

“Mummy can’t go out looking like this, now can she?” she coos, wiping some of Angela’s tears away with her fingertips. Angela sniffs in response. Shelagh sighs and massages the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Her glasses pinch. Angela whimpers and presses a tear-streaked cheek against the green fabric of her mother’s dress. She squeezes the ear of her stuffed bunny with a chubby fist. Shelagh can see how heavy her eyelids are, though. Just a little while longer, and her girl will be asleep. Shelagh can start dicing the potatoes, then, and maybe change her stockings before she starts to prepare the lamb, and…

“Anybody home?” Patrick’s voice rings throughout the house. Angela’s eyes flit open and she starts crying again in great, heaving sobs. Shelagh curls her toes and forces herself to inhale deeply. She supresses the urge to cry herself.

Don’t get angry, your husband doesn’t deserve that, don’t get…

“Shelagh? Why is there a stain in the carpet?” Shelagh can’t help herself; she is able to prevent herself from crying, but only by allowing her anger to surge. She storms out of their daughter’s bedroom and makes her way to the kitchen, Angela still clasped in her arms. She can feel every heartbeat throbbing behind her eyes.

“Patrick Turner, if all you can do is make rude comments when you come home I think it is best if you leave again,” she snaps, her voice laced with vexation. Patrick blinks in surprise.

“Now, hold your daughter whilst I make her dinner. I had hoped she would sleep a little, but there’s no chance of that now, so I’ll just give her her bottle,” she growls, pushing Angela in her husband’s arms. Angela fusses, throws her stuffed bunny through the room, and then starts screaming because she wants it.

“For God’s sake!’ Shelagh mutters. She has to get on her knees to extract the toy from underneath the coffee table. When she gets up and straightens her dress her husband’s face has become still, his eyes still focussed on her legs. An emotion she can’t place flits over his features.

If he’s going to get cross with me I’ll crumple and cry, she can’t help but think. She wordlessly hands him the rabbit, avoiding his eyes.

Patrick places his fingertips on her wrist but she brushes his hand away.

“Shelagh, I’m sorry,” he begins. She interrupts him.

“No!” Tears blur her vision as she realises that the only tin of formula they have is empty. She digs around the cupboard, looking for another tin. She was sure she’d bought another one, but if she has it is nowhere in sight.

“Shelagh, darling…” Patrick begins. Shelagh drags a hand through her hair, causing several hairpins to spring away and locks of hair to tumble down.

“Don’t talk to me!” Her voice is laced with something close to despair.

“I have to go to the store to get some milk for Angela. Please watch her,” she murmurs. She grabs her purse and her coat and leaves.

Shelagh Turner, you’ve been behaving like a beast, she tells herself on her way home, a tin of formula clutched firmly under her arm. She cringes as she thinks back on the harsh words that shot out of her mouth like arrows aimed at her husband. Guilt knits lines between her brows. She pushes a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to make it up to him,” she says out loud. She ignores the strange look a passer-by casts her; she knows she must look like a fright, with her hair dishevelled and a coat that doesn’t match her dress. Shelagh inhales deeply and walks faster. She needs to get home. Angela is probably screaming the house down by now, and Patrick will be getting grumpy without his dinner, too.

A thick raindrop lands square on her forehead, exploding into smaller droplets that splatter on her glasses. A second one follows, hitting the frown between her eyebrows and washing it away. Shelagh tilts her face to the sky as the clouds overhead spill their cargo onto her. People shriek and run to find shelter, but she keeps standing still, cradling the tin of formula. Within half a minute she is drenched. The scorching heat flees for this onslaught of rain, making the air deliciously cool. Shelagh breathes in the scent of rain and offers up a tiny prayer as her headache and her anger and tiredness are washed away.

She’ll go home, give her beautiful daughter her bottle, make a delicious meal, and ask her darling husband about his day. And she will apologise for her appalling behaviour. She smiles, and makes for her home with a spring in her step.

“Patrick?” she calls softly, pushing the front door closed with her foot. Her coat drips patterns in the carpet of the hallway. Her hair lays plastered against her face and neck. She shivers as a raindrop travels down along her vertebrae. She hangs her coat on the rack and walks into the living room. Patrick sits waiting for her, a plate of omelettes and bacon and a pot of tea ready. Shelagh stops in the doorway and blinks owlishly. “Patrick, what’s this?” “I’ve made us dinner. I didn’t trust myself to cook potatoes, mind, so it will just be bread and eggs.” He smirks and places his arms on the table. He’s rolled his sleeves up, exposing his forearms. Shelagh tears her gaze from the dark hair that dusts his skin. “But where’s Angela?” “Sleeping. I’ve given her a bottle. She was exhausted; she drifted off before I could put her down in her cot.” “But there was no milk…” “There was a can of formula in the back of the kitchen cupboard. You must have missed it.” Shelagh sighs and places her new-bought tin on the table. Patrick just sits there, looking very smug. There’s a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve been behaving like an absolute fool,” Shelagh starts. She takes off her glasses and tries to dry them with the hem of her dress, but the fabric is too wet and only smears out the droplets. She sighs and places them back on her face. “Patrick, I think I owe you an apology,” she continues. Patrick stands up and grabs her hand. His fingertips brush her knuckles. “I think you do,” he agrees. She smiles. “It’s just that nothing went the way it should have, today,” she says, “Angela was so fussy, poor dear, and I didn’t get much of the housework done. I also got a rip in a good pair of stockings, and Angela vomited over my dress, so I had to wear this very inappropriate one. I look like a fright. I wanted to cook you a nice dinner, and talk to you about your day, but I was cross with you and snapped instead.” Patrick pulls her close. “Darling, I like to see you in this dress. It shows off all your good points,” he breathes as he brushes her collar bone with his fingertip. “You do?” “Yes. Though I have to warn you that I’m a man, Mrs. Turner. When push comes to shove I prefer to see my wife without a dress,” he murmurs as his other hand slips around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. That strange emotion ghosts over his face. With a jolt of electricity Shelagh realises what it is. And you, a married woman, she softly scolds herself, unbelievable that you didn’t see it before. She suddenly understands that the look her husband gave her as she tried to extract Angela’s toy rabbit was one of appreciation; her dress must have ridden up, allowing a good portion of thigh to become visible. “I’d say this dress is hardly appropriate outside of the house,” Shelagh breathes as Patrick places a sloppy kiss in the corner of her mouth. She tangles her hand in his jumper and threads the other through his hair. He pushes a wet strand that lays plastered in the hollow of her throat away and kisses the dip between her collar bones. A soft sound forms in her lungs and leaves her mouth hardly louder than a sigh. “I agree. I wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this,” he growls. “Like what?” “Fully debauched.” His teeth softly drag along her throat, making her moan. “You’re so possessive,” she chides him, pressing her mouth to his before he can reply. She takes his bottom lip between hers and bites. In response Patrick crushes her against him and devours her mouth, only letting go when she sees stars and needs to breathe. “Patrick, dinner will get cold,” she tells him, fingertips ghosting over his ear. He shivers in response. “Don’t care,” he says. “Aren’t you hungry?” Her breathing is rapid, coming in short, shallow gasps. “Famished, Mrs. Turner. But I don’t think eggs will still my appetite.” “And you’ve done so well, making dinner all by yourself. Don’t you want to taste the fruit of your labour?” she teases him. In response Patrick lifts her from the ground and throws her over his shoulder. He places one hand on her lower back and leaves the other in the hollow of her knees to keep her from tumbling. She squeals. “I’m going to taste the fruit of my labour, don’t you worry about that,” he tells her as he carries her up to their bedroom. The heat is unbearable, Shelagh thinks. This time, though, it will not be the grass that gets scorched.

Well guys hope you liked that! Also, I’m the worst with titles, so let me know if you guys find a better one

#call the midwife #turnadette #writing tag #call the midwife fanfiction #shelagh turner #patrick turner #fanfic friday

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skyishtar · 7 years

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Mortem maneat omnibus

Summary: When Lucifer arrived at Detective Decker's house everything spiraled out of control. Lucifer is still trying to figure out his feelings when the Angel of Death arrives to collect Chloe's soul but not everything is as it seems. There may still be a way to save Chloe, if only the Angel of Death wasn't so bloody cryptic.

The world was spinning and Lucifer didn’t know how to make it stop. The anger, the rage had evaporated replaced one emotion, one emotion the Devil was not accustomed to feeling; panic. The second he saw the blood coming from the detective’s nose Lucifer didn’t care if she betrayed him, he didn’t care if she worked for his father. Lucifer just wanted her to be okay.

Lucifer gathered the detective in his arms, ignoring her protests he led her to his car.

“You are not fine, I’m taking you to the hospital,” Lucifer snapped as Chloe tried to protest getting into the car, “Doctor Jekyll must have hit you when you chased him.”

“Jekyll was the good one,” Chloe murmured as Lucifer strapped her in to the seat, part of her wanted to tell Lucifer she wasn’t a baby and could get into the car on her own, another part of her liked the attention. Liked that he was willing to take care of her.

“He created a bloody monster just so he could feel better about himself, I’d hardly call that good,” Lucifer commented getting into his side of the car.

The sped down the road like death himself was chasing them. Chloe didn’t even protest at the numerus traffic laws Lucifer broke and that let the Devil know how bad it really was, the detective never gave a chance to complain about his driving, so much so that she insisted on doing most of the driving herself.

Lucifer weaved in and out of traffic, avoiding no less than three accidents by mere inches. Still Detective Decker didn’t complain.

Lucifer spun into the hospital, not caring that the spot he stopped in was blocking several other cars and at least one ambulance. Pulling the detective out of her seat Lucifer all but carried her into the hospital. Yelling for help.

Chloe lay in the hospital bed, in one of those horrible hospital gowns. She’s insisted on calling Trixie at Dan’s apartment. Dan wanted to bring Trixie down to see her mother but Chloe hadn’t wanted her daughter to see in the state she was in, blood still seeping from her nose. The redness of her eyes also indicated that those too would begin to bleed soon.

Lucifer had paced the hall while the doctors looked the detective over. If Professor Carlisle wasn’t already dead Lucifer would be hunting him down and making him talk, cry, scream, whatever it took to get the cure. Lucifer could be very creative when came to punishment and he was sure those methods could be used to get information, if used in moderation, something he might not have considered given the circumstance. To save Chloe he would do anything. It didn’t matter that the detective worked for his father, willingly or unwillingly, he wasn’t sure yet, also long as she was alive. Chloe could be on the other side of the world hating him but as long she still breathing Lucifer could survive, he wasn’t entirely sure he could if she was dead. He couldn’t even follow her into Hell because there is no way she would go there. No, Chloe Decker was destined for the silver city, the one place Lucifer could not follow.

The news wasn’t good, given the twenty four hour timeline of the other victims Chloe didn’t have too much longer. If the clock had started during the chase then the detective had a little over twelve hours left. Carlisle had had years to prefect his poison, and each dose was different, it didn’t take a doctor to figure of that Chloe’s odds was slim to none.

He was the Devil. A fallen angel. She was mortal. A tool, maybe even a weapon, wielded by God against his once favourite son. Lucifer knew he shouldn’t care, especially given what he had just learned but he did, he couldn’t make himself stop.

Collapsing a chair Lucifer ran his fingers through his hair. He was stuck. Carlisle was dead, the research, the cure, it had all been in his head, it had all died with him.

Someone dropped into the seat next to him and Lucifer turned to tell them to bugger off.

The Devil froze. “Azrael,” He breathed.

“Hello, brother,” The angel of death smiled weakly.

Lucifer shot to his feet, “No! You can’t have her. She still has time.”

“A few hours is a blink of an eye compared to us,” Azrael remained seated.

Lucifer spun around to face his sister and for the first time noticed her dress, very human compared to what Uriel and Amenadiel wore when they first appeared to him. He also noted that time had continued to move, a nurse even stepped over Azrael’s outstretched legs. It didn’t make any sense, she should be there.

“Why are you here, Azrael?” Lucifer hissed stepping towards his sister, “Your errand boy is more than capable of collecting this soul. You don’t get your hands dirty often.”

“There are special souls, brother,” Azrael lent back into the chair, stretching her legs further into the hall, “Souls that warrant special attention on their death, an angel’s attention. Souls who drag us from our hiding places, you have John Constantine, I have Chloe Decker. When she dies I’ll lead her to the Silver City myself.”

“How can I save her?” Lucifer begged.

“I can’t…,” Azrael shook her head.

“Your list always changes, Rae,” Lucifer snapped, “It’s human nature, free will. People decided to turn left instead of right, they go out instead of staying in. Every decision changes your list, it constantly changes. Father gave humans free will, their choices change everything. How. Do. I. Change. This?”

Azrael wouldn’t meet her brother’s gaze. She looked up and down the hospital hall, looking for any human prying eyes, and ears. She sighed, “Change is inevitable, brother, but it is human. There is nothing I can do.”

Lucifer had been close with his sister before his fall, in terms of age she was the closest of his siblings to him and as the angel of death she had been one of his few siblings to visit him in Hell, bringing souls from time to time. Like Lucifer Azrael didn’t lie but that didn’t mean she told the whole truth either. He could read between the lines, “I asked what I could do, not you, me.”

“She is mortal,” Azrael stood up, her height rivalling that of her brother, “Be it today, tomorrow or in fifty years Chloe Decker will die.”

Lucifer stood to his full height and glared at his sister, his eyes flashing red.

Azrael just rolled her eyes, “I have seen Hell, brother, and I have known you far too long to fear you.”

“You haven’t seen me in a long time,” Lucifer’s true face flashed for second, when it returned to normal he collapsed back into his vacated chair. Running his hand through his hair again Lucifer sighed, “Rae, I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose her. Dad sent her to me and I still can’t hate her.”

Azrael sat back in her chair, setting one foot on the chair she placed her chin on her knee, “You always had a kind heart, despite what some of our siblings, and the humans, think of you, it’s why you were always my favourite brother, but loving a human will only cause you pain.”

“I can handle pain,” Lucifer rested his head in his hands, “I just can’t stand to see her in any.” He looked his sister up and down, “Why are you here, Rae?”

“I said…”

“I know what you said,” Lucifer shook his head, “Now I want the whole truth. You could have come and gone without me knowing but you sat next to me, you didn’t freeze time and you appear human. You talked to me. Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Because my brother needed me,” Azrael replied looking Lucifer straight in the eye. “Because…,” She sighed, “Because…”

“Because there is a way to save her but you can’t tell me,” Lucifer concluded. He looked at his sister, pure desperation in his eyes, “Azrael, is there a way to save her?”

Azrael bit her lip.

“I’ll give you your blade back.”

“I’ll not make a deal with the Devil,” Azrael smiled weakly, “Heaven and Hell do not bargain.”

“Dad made a deal to save her before,” Lucifer counted.

“And you didn’t exactly keep your word,” Azrael shot back.

“It’s kind of hard to get mom to…,” A smile suddenly sprung on to Lucifer’s face, “… Hell.” He laughed, wrapping his sister in a hug, “You bloody genius.”

“Lucifer,” A voice spoke.

Lucifer pulled away from Azrael and turned towards the voice, “Detective Douche.”

Dan looked between Lucifer and Azrael, frowning, “Chloe is in the hospital and you’re flirting with some hussy.”

Lucifer stood, his full height dwarfing the detective before him, “Detective if you wish to keep your limbs attached to your body then you will refrain from calling my sister a hussy.”

Dan looked around Lucifer, “Sister?”

“Eyes back here, Douche,” Lucifer snapped, “You’ve already defiled my… Charlotte, don’t even look at my sister.” He looked Dan up and down, “Where’s the spawn?”

“Trixie is at a friend’s house,” Dan answered, “She shouldn’t see her mom like this.”

“Well at least you did one thing right.”

Azrael stood, placing her hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, “Now is not the time.”

Lucifer turned back to face his sister, “You’re right. Detective Decker’s life is at stake.”

Azrael smiled, “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Figured out what?” Dan asked, drawing Lucifer’s attention again.

Lucifer grinned at the detective, “How to save Chloe of course.”

“How?” Dan asked, concern written all over his face.

“Ring it out of Professor Carlisle of course,” Lucifer continued to grin wickedly.

“Carlisle dead,” Dan countered.

“Exactly,” Lucifer exclaimed excitedly, “All that murder and suicide would have sent him straight to Hell.”

“And you’re the Devil,” Dan rolled his eyes, “Morningstar, this is hardly the time for your theatrics.”

Ignoring the detective Lucifer looked at his sister, “I forfeited my way back when I burned my wings. Can you get me there without having to kill me?”

“In theory,” Azrael shrugged, “Getting you back here with the information you need will be slightly more difficult. Sending things down are slightly easier than bringing them back up.”

“I’m asking you to get me there, I’ll find my own way out,” Lucifer promised.

“Once you’re there Remiel may not let you leave,” Azrael warned.

“Remiel is holding the fort is he? Well, never mind,” Lucifer shrugged, “He is an ant compared to you and me.”

“And you’re risking everything for something that ant could crush,” Azrael countered.

“Her name is Chloe and I would do anything for her,” Lucifer sighed, “Including do the one thing I promised myself I would never do.” Turning to Dan he smiled weakly, “Take care of Chloe, I’ll be back soon.”

Before Dan could respond the Devil turned back to his sister and held his hand out to Azrael, the angel of death herself, “Take me to Hell.”

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #lucifer fanfiction #daniel espinosa #deckerstar

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Favorite (Katlaska) Chapter 6 - Aliena

AN: Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, work’s been really busy lately.

Again, I can’t thank you enough for the lovely comments. I love writing this fic, and it makes me so happy that you like it.

If you’re looking for chapter 5, check the author tag instead of the story tag, because I’ve realised I tagged chapter 5 favourite instead of favorite (a result of English not being my first language, being taught to spell things the British way, and trying to use American spelling for American fandoms). But it’s all there under the aliena tag. It’s also up on AO3 now.

Just one more chapter to go after this one!

Alaska goes to Dublin. She meets up with Courtney and Willam and they rehearse all that day and the next and do their show at night, and she keeps her head in the game, because she is nothing if not professional. But once she’s back stage in the dressing room after the show, she finds herself with her phone in her hand, deaf to what’s going on around her. On Katya’s snapchat there’s a picture of Katya wearing Alaska’s scarf. Alaska stares at it for a long time, only hurriedly putting her phone away when Courtney touches her shoulder. ”Are you okay, Alaska?” Courtney asks. ”You’re very quiet.” ”I’m fine, just tired,” she says and musters up a smile. ”You’re also a shit liar,” Willam says bluntly. ”You’ve been off all day, so something’s obviously on your mind. Alaska starts to peel off her fake nails, while she debates with herself whether she should say something or not. The thing is, she sort of wants to talk about it, but the person she’s now used to talking about important things with is Katya, who is obviously not an option. So she figures Courtney and Willam might be the second best choice. At least it’s better than to go over it in her head repeatedly. ”I think I may have done something stupid,” she says, trying to get a grip on the nail on her little finger. ”Tell us all about it,” Courtney says, slinging her arm over Alaska’s shoulders. ”You can’t find two people more well versed in the art of doing stupid things than Willam and myself”. Alaska finally uses her teeth on the nail, ripping it off with enough force to hurt. ”I kissed Katya.” The words sound so insignificant said like that. ”That doesn’t sound stupid,” Willam says. ”I’ve made out with Katya. It was awesome! She’s hot. Also, she was covered in peanut butter and jelly, which made it even better.” Courtney shakes her head. ”That video was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve shared a dressing room with Adore.” ”That video was art,” Willam argues. ”We brought drag back to its roots, when it was filthy and edgy and covered in peanut butter.” ”Katya is hot, though,” Courtney says, ignoring Willam. ”I had this dream once, about her and Trixie double-teaming me, and all the time they were just talking to each other, like in an episode of Unnhh.” She sighs wistfully. ”It was awesome.” Willam stands up straighter. ”Say that again.” ”What?” ”The name of their show.” ”Unnhh,” Courtney repeats with a smirk, drawing out the sound, making Willam groan in response. ”You’re filthy,” Willam says, sounding impressed. ”You look so sweet, but you’re filthy.” ”This is really helpful, by the way,” Alaska says. Realizing just how attractive everyone else is finding Katya doesn’t make her feel any better. ”Sorry,” Courtney says. She sits down in the chair next to Alaska and grabs her hands, holding them tightly in her own and looking intently into Alaska’s eyes. ”Tell us where it hurts.” Alaska pulls back her hands, annoyed. ”Forget about it. This was obviously a stupid idea.” She starts on the nails on her right hand, cursing silently when the nail on her thumb breaks off. ”Oh,” Courtney says softly. She leans back and tilts her head to the side, frowning. ”I’m sorry,” she says, sounding more sincere this time. Willam comes over to stand behind Alaska, waiting silently until Alaska looks up and their eyes meet in the mirror. ”Spill,” she says firmly, but not unkindly. Alaska exhales loudly. ”I don’t even know,” she says. ”We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Like, all the time. At first I thought she was just trying to keep me occupied and to stop me from doing something stupid. Which is ironic, considering. But I think it was just as much a way to keep her from doing something stupid. Anyway, the reason doesn’t matter, because it’s been great. She’s so smart, and so, so funny, and making her laugh is ridiculously easy, but it still feels amazing, and I don’t know why. And I haven’t slept so well in ages, even though she constantly talks in her sleep, and kicks all the time.” She knows she’s rambling but she can’t seem to stop. She tears at a nail that just won’t come off. ”And then she was leaving and I realized that I wasn’t going to see her for a couple of weeks, so I kissed her. And now I don’t know what to do, and she probably thinks…” ”And breathe,” Courtney interrupts, once again taking Alaska’s hand in hers, this time to gently remove the stubborn fake nail. Willam stares at Alaska. ”Fuck,” she says. ”I was expecting some drunken making out back stage, well, maybe not drunken, but this is actual Love Actually shit. I mean, Detox mentioned you two were having some kind of epic romance, but I thought she was joking.” Alaska groans. ”You’re not making this better.” ”I don’t see what the problem is,” Courtney says. She releases Alaska’s hand, having carefully peeled off the remaining nails. ”Katya is amazing. And the two of you have so much in common, you’re both really smart, you have the same sense of humor, and you’ve both been through the same kind of shit. I think you’d be great together.” ”No, no, no,” Alaska says hurriedly, shaking her head. ”There is no ’together’, this is not a thing.” Willam raises her eyebrows. ”You’re having a pretty impressive breakdown over something that is not a thing.” ”And what about Katya?” Courtney asks. ”Maybe it’s a thing to her.” ”Katya doesn’t even do relationships,” Alaska says. She wishes she still had her nails on, she needs something to do with her hands. Instead she starts unpinning the extra hairpieces attached to her wig. ”And is that what you want?” Courtney is relentless. ”A relationship?” What Alaska wants is what she already has with Katya, the way that she can make Katya scream with laughter, the way Katya keeps grabbing hold of her hand when she gets excited, the way she knows that if she feels like shit she can go to Katya, who won’t ask questions, but will distract her by telling an incredibly complicated story that’s probably not even true, but fascinating nonetheless. She wants to keep all of that.

And yes, she has to admit to herself that she wants to kiss Katya, and she wants to know how Katya’s ridiculous flexibility translates into sex, and frankly, she wants to lick every inch of Katya’s body, but not at the expense of their friendship. ”Doesn’t really matter what I want, does it?” she says, neatly avoiding the question. ”Katya doesn’t do relationships.” ”Not because she doesn’t want to. I know it’s a cliche, but perhaps she just hasn’t found the right person.” ”I don’t think I’m cut out for being the right person for anyone,” Alaska admits. Willam frowns disapprovingly. ”Don’t be an idiot. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” ”I never do it this way around, though,” Alaska says. She takes off her wig and runs her fingers through her hair, making it stand up in all directions. ”Usually I’ll meet a guy, have sex with him, and then figure out if I like him or not. I don’t know how to deal with this.” ”It’s easy,” Willam says matter-of-factly. ”You just turn up at her door and tell her you’re just a boy who likes dressing up as a woman, standing in front of another boy who likes dressing up as a woman, asking him slash her to fuck you.” ”That’s not Love Actually, though,” Courtney says. ”Sure it is, it’s the Hugh Grant one.” ”No, but that’s the one with Julia Roberts.” ”What, Pretty Woman? That’s harsh, Courtney, comparing Alaska to a prostitute.” Alaska sighs and folds her arms on the table, laying her head down on them, not even caring that she’s getting make-up all over her arms. Willam rubs her shoulders comfortingly, while continuing to argue with Courtney about romantic comedies in general. Alaska is for the moment quite content just to remain silent and let their conversation wash over her. Nothing more is said on the subject of Katya until later, when they’re ready to leave, and Alaska and Courtney are just waiting for Willam to wrap up her flirting with a particularly burly stage hand. ”I think Trixie’s a bit in love with her,” she admits quietly, which makes Courtney hum thoughtfully. ”Maybe a little,” she says. ”But if something was going to happen between Katya and Trixie it would have a long time ago.” Alaska would have preferred Courtney to say ”No, of course she isn’t, you’re imagining things.” But she guesses this is the second best thing. ”When are you seeing her again?” Courtney asks. ”New Year’s Eve. We’re doing a show together.” ”That’s perfect,” Courtney exclaims. ”Every opportunity for a New Year’s kiss.”

Her face softens when Alaska doesn’t answer.

”You’ll work it out. I have faith in the both of you.” She puts her arm around Alaska, giving her half a hug. ”And besides, you’re her favorite. Everyone knows that.” The next day Alaska takes a photo of Willam and Courtney arguing over fries, Courtney pulling the plate toward her and Willam threatening her with a bottle of ketchup. ”This is what I have to put up with now. I feel I traded down.” she types and sends it to Katya. She has to do something to restore a sense of normality between them. She puts her phone down, only to grab hold of it five seconds later to send the same message to Detox and Manila. She gets a reply hours later, just after she’s gone to bed, from Katya’s phone. It’s a picture of the three of them, pouting into the camera. ”Miss you too!” the message says. Alaska stares at the photo for three whole minutes. Then she throws her phone to the side and pulls the cover up over her head and stays like that until she finally manages to fall asleep, the room uncomfortably quiet without Katya mumbling. New Year’s Eve comes too quickly and yet not quickly enough. She arrives at the venue, her stomach in a tight knot, not having had any contact with Katya since that photo. She’s shown to the dressing room, and stops abruptly by the door when she notices that Katya’s already there. She must have arrived shortly before, because nothing is unpacked. Katya’s sitting in a chair in front of the mirror, not in drag yet, scrolling through something on her phone, jacket hanging over the back of the chair, Alaska’s scarf still around her neck. Alaska watches her in silence for a few moments, and then she clears her throat. Katya looks up and their eyes meet in the mirror for a second, before Katya turns around and rises from the chair. ”Hi,” Alaska says, forcing a smile, even as the knot in her stomach pulls tighter. ”Hey,” Katya says. She looks as if she’s about to take a step closer, but changes her mind at the last second. Alaska suddenly hates the kiss she’s been obsessing over for the last two weeks. If it hadn’t been for that kiss, Katya would have given a Alaska a hug, which Alaska reluctantly would have accepted, and then kindly would have told Katya that she looked like shit. Katya would have hit her on the arm, just hard enough to hurt, and then they would have gossiped about the shows they’d played in the time they’d been apart, and it would have been nice and fun and normal and everything Alaska got used to. But instead they’re standing in front of each other, neither of them knowing where to look or what to say and Alaska can’t stand it. ”You look like shit,” she blurts out, when the silence gets too deafening, because it isn’t Love Actually, and she doesn’t know how to be different around Katya. But it seems to work, judging from the grin spreading on Katya’s face. ”I missed you too, cunt,” she says. She sits down again, leans back in her chair and smirks. ”It wasn’t all bad, though. Me and Detox convinced Ginger to do your part in Read U, and let me tell you, Katgingetox is the new big thing. ”Sounds like a rat poison,” Alaska says loftily, sitting down in the chair next to Katya. ”How fitting.” She grins when Katya screeches with laughter. ”I on the other hand spent time with Willam and Courtney, and well, you know what the three of us get up to in the spare time.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth, because that brings them on to a topic she doesn’t want to discuss. ”Not really, though,” she says with a shrug. ”William fell in love with a stage hand, it was all very touching.” ”Oh, wait, I got you something,” Katya says suddenly, and bends down to start rummaging around in her suitcase. When she turns back to Alaska there’s a red and silver colored box in her hand. She holds it out. ”Merry Christmas!” ”Thank you,” Alaska says, and maybe the slight panic she feels at not having a present for Katya in return shows on her face, because Katya hurriedly tells her it a scarf. ”Because I’m not planning on returning yours,” she says, wrapping her hand in the scarf around her neck possessively. “It’s mine now, precious.” Alaska opens the box, handing the lid over to Katya. The scarf is green, in different shades, the yarn almost shimmering in a zigzag pattern. She takes it out to unravel it, and as she does, she notices a tiny bit of red at one end, and when she looks closer, it’s a bit of red fabric, forked in two, and above it a two black buttons. ”It’s a snake!” Katya informs her helpfully. ”You know, because of the…” she trails off when Alaska remains silent. ”Oh, fuck. Is this one of those things that are funny when you do them yourself, and really fucking tasteless when someone else does?” ”No,” Alaska says quietly, shaking her head. ”No, it’s not.” She tears her eyes away from the scarf to look at Katya. ”How long did it take you to find this?” Katya shrugs, looking a bit embarrassed. ”Oh, you know, not long. It’s not as if Ginger hates my guts now for dragging her through every weird boutique in Canada.” (”Oh, that’s not all,” Ginger tells her much later. ”After we’d been in every weird boutique in Canada without result, she then proceeded to drag me to every yarn store in Toronto, until she found someone who would custom knit a fucking snake scarf.” ”Apparently the demand for snake scarves is not as high as it should be,” Katya says defensively when Alaska stares at her in disbelief. ”And I had my heart set on one.” ”You are unbelievable,” Alaska says, and kisses her deeply while Ginger gags.”) ”Well, let Ginger know I love it,” Alaska says. She wraps the scarf around her neck. It’s scratchy as hell, but she couldn’t care less. ”How do I look?” ”You are the most beautiful snake lady I’ve ever seen,” Katya says. Her hands are gripping the lid to the box so tightly it’s beginning to buckle. It’s suddenly crystal clear to Alaska that this is it now, that there is no way for them to go back to before. So they might as well go forward. ”From what I remember from the last time we saw each other,” she says carefully, ”the part after the giving of the scarf is the part where you kiss me.” ”Oh, good,” Katya breathes. ”I was hoping it was.” She drops the lid and takes Alaska’s face in her hands, kissing her gently, almost nervously. Too gently, and Alaska pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. She clutches at Katya’s shoulders, but it’s not enough and she pulls impatiently at Katya until she finally takes a hint and leaves her chair to straddle Alaska’s lap instead. Alaska wants to tell her that she’s missed her, that she can’t seem to sleep properly without her anymore, that telling jokes is never as rewarding without Katya’s screams of laughter following them. But she’s not sure exactly what they’re doing or what they are and if that would be too much. So she just keeps kissing Katya, tilting her head up to meet her, holding on to Katya’s waist, feeling the beat of Katya’s heart against her own chest. They kiss until Alaska loses track of time, only breaking apart when there’s a knock on the door, and a voice outside reminding them of their call time. ”Fuck,” Katya says. Her lips are red and swollen, and she looks slightly confused. ”We have a show.” She looks at herself in the mirror and blinks. ”And we’re not even in drag yet.” Alaska can’t help but laugh at the look of sheer terror on Katya’s face. She leans her forehead against Katya’s. ”This is going to be a shit show, isn’t it?” In the end, it probably isn’t as bad as they feared. Their make-up may not be up to the usual standard. Well, Alaska’s isn’t. The difference in Katya’s is very subtle. And while they may be distracted and slightly unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing at any given time, they make up for it by being high on adrenaline and endorphins, and the audience is eating it up, cheering wildly throughout the entire show. Alaska doesn’t think she’s ever left a venue so quickly after a show, though. They probably come off as incredibly rude, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to them, clumsily dodging hands reaching for autographs. They change clothes and remove their wigs in record time, throwing everything haphazardly into suitcases, but it still feels like half an eternity before they’re in Katya’s hotel room, and well there the familiarity of it all makes Alaska almost lightheaded with relief. She pushes Katya down on the bed, climbing on top of her. ”You are a horrible influence,” she says, looking down at her. ”I know,” Katya says, grinning unrepentantly. ”I thought you were going to make up for it, but apparently not.” Alaska pinches her side lightly, right where Katya’s shirt is riding up and there’s a strip of bare skin showing, and Katya gasps in mock horror. ”That’s how you choose to start the new year? With violence and abuse?” ”Do you have any other suggestions?” Alaska asks sweetly, caressing the skin she just pinched with her thumb. Katya lifts her hips slightly off the bed, smirking when she notices the way it makes Alaska’s breath hitch. ”They say you should start the year as you mean to go on,” she says innocently, batting her eyelashes. Alaska knows all too well what she wants to be doing for the rest of the year, and right now she can’t think of anything she’d like more that to give Katya a full and very detailed demonstration of it. So she does. When they break apart, much, much later, exhausted and covered in sweat, both breathing heavily, Katya buries her nose in the crook of Alaska’s neck and inhales deeply. ”I finally understand the big deal about New Year’s kisses now,” she says, her voice muffled. ”I have clearly been doing them wrong all this time.” Alaska giggles tiredly, already halfway to sleep. ”Happy New Year, Katya,” she mumbles. She’s asleep before she can ever hear Katya’s response. ”Happy New Year, Lasky.”

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