#whoops I meant queen v

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

aight aight, real shit; let's say you got the chance to rewrite the entirety of gossip girl exactly how you want. make a brief description of what would happen in each season. (you can decide whether there's a fourth season or not)

oh i LOVE this ask, and i am so flattered to be asked this, haha. i have SO many thoughts, i’ve been thinking about this non-stop, but i’ll try to be as brief as possible. also, disclaimer, i don’t remember all the seasons equally clearly. like i barely remember s2. haha, whoops.

season 1: i love this season as is, for the most part. i think the tone of it was actually very serious and involved? like the show was actively trying not to be frivolous with heavy topics, and the way we were getting to see the characters seemed like they were trying to bring out character depth and the complexities of their lives in very deliberate ways. nate’s whole thing with his parents gets so much focus, and it’s not something the show glorifies, it’s something that is meant to make you uncomfortable and worried for him. 

i would have nate be less of a dudebro, jenny & nate’s friendship being a little more solid, dan being a little more involved in jenny’s problems + helping her find her space, vanessa/nate to happen earlier - after nate breaks up w/ blair and realises she looks happier, i would have him not try and get back with her (lol, dude, the fact that she’s happy after breaking up with you means you probably shouldn’t be dating her.) more exploration of eric’s mental health. more dan and blair friendship. i would keep chair the way it is this season. i would not have a derena breakup - i’d have them take a break after the georgina reveal and get back together during the summer after talking about it and deciding to be more honest & open with each other. and, what the hell, i would have lily not blame serena (???) for being taken advantage of in the whole pete fairman situation. serena wasn’t sober, she was 16, that dude was in his 30s, georgina was taping her w/o her consent. how is any of this serena’s fault??? i hate lily’s reaction so much.

season 2: i... don’t remember enough of this season, sadly. it’s been too long since i watched it. i would majorly change jenny’s arc here, though. eleanor stealing her dress was majorly, majorly fucked up, and i think jenny should’ve done something then and there. also the whole thing with ‘lily is a mother to chuck’.... i would’ve loved it if lily had been like that to jenny. the girl needed it, and lily would’ve actually been able to help jenny establish connections in the professional world and whatnot. i think jenny should’ve transferred out of constance - not necessarily homeschooling maybe, but gone somewhere else. unlike dan, she didn’t even want to get into an ivy, she wanted to make it big as a designer. so. that. 

oh nate my love. i’d get this trainwreck of a boy some therapy. while i hate that the catherine thing happened, things like that do happen all the time, and i’d be interested in sort of handling the aftermath of it in a responsible way. i would not have... a lot of serena’s arc and decisions (from what i can remember) were really random in this season. i’d have her break up with dan at some point. and vanessa would need a new subject for her short film, and she’d choose serena.

nate doesn’t really date anyone, this season. but he and jenny open up to each other abt having gay crushes on people who treat you like shit - jenny’s thing with agnes - nate rescues her when they’re taking those pictures in her flat and let’s say she doesn’t go back to agnes. instead of kissing her, nate talks to her instead, and tells her about carter, tells her about chuck. and jenny talks about her feelings for blair, her feelings for agnes. and both of them sort of go... “it sucks, but all we can do is try not to become the kind of people we hate, right?”

dan pines for nate. majorly. massively. obviously. i think the only person who really notices is blair, and this would lead to new hijinks and shenanigans. also!! i do not want chair in s2. maybe it can go there for a bit but definitely not to the extent in canon. i want blair to have the same moment of being unable to deny her cruelty / needing to be accountable that she did in that ‘age of dissonance’ play. and. this sounds fucky but i want the dan/rachel stuff to stay as it is, and later, in s4, for dan & serena to talk about rachel & ben respectively and be like ‘hey, this was a fucked up thing to happen to us, wasn’t it?’ 

i would also like to get to know blair’s “minions” better as people. i mean. they all seemed hella fascinating to me, and the show’s decision to make them superficial and unidimensional was very depressing.

season 3: hot garbage, throw canon away. when chuck goes away to paris or wherever, let him not come back. goodbye, dude! dan, blair & vanessa friendship at nyu is so, so important to me. also im losing my mind always at how vanessa and serena catch dan on that walk of shame and they’re both like ‘college is a time for experimentation!’ and nobody does anything even slightly bisexual (unless you count that threesome later, which, blah.) a serenessa / date dynamic in college would’ve been great. dan transferring to columbia like blair does and rooming with nate and just, the gayness of it all. dan & blair become really, really close, and d&b&v watch movies + go to art exhibits together and are all SO DAMN PRETENTIOUS. serena finds it sexy, nate finds it terrifying. 

the william stuff would be interesting if he were actually held accountable. like that man has no right being a doctor, and medical malpractice needs to be brought up. and jenny’s whole arc this season makes me so sad. i think it would’ve been interesting if she’d been a ‘queen’ and ruled alongside eric, and just, the two of them forcing people to be nice, sort of like they try to do with people who are mean to nelly in s2 i think it is? but also.. jenny out of constance is very good, and i think i mentioned that earlier, haha, whoops.

season 4 : serenessa breakup, for whatever reason, probably to do with the william fuckery, because i think vanessa would react in similar ways to nate (”serena, i know he’s your dad, but we have to do the right thing” / “it still wasn’t your call to make” / “he’s a certified doctor, serena, a man like that has no right -” / “god vanessa, you really don’t get it, do you?” ). uhhh i would actually... if i had to choose i would honestly go blairnessa >>>>> dair. i love how blair & vanessa can keep each other on their toes and hold each other accountable. like? blair’s classist or racist and dan’s just like, *smiles*. vanessa would actively be like ‘hey, stop that.’ (this is one of the few actual criticisms i have about d/b as a relationship, RIP.) 

(edited to add: yeah, i think blairnessa WOULD be a sustainable relationship, more abt that here! )

yes to the milo arc, but dan gets to keep milo (his friends threaten georgina and go all ‘you made him sign the certificate. don’t make us take you to court’ because i love these morally grey assholes but also because g DID trick dan into thinking milo was his and dan was ready to reshape his whole life around that kid which is more than georgina was willing to do. plus endgame: jack/georgina are not parents i want milo to have.) i would also have more of a rufus & dan fallout over the milo thing. i think rufus would be really nasty about it all tbh.

the dair arc for blair and vanessa! let the juliet stuff happen, but let it be less awful + let it be seen as Bad + let serena get help & not forgive her for it. let serena NOT date ben after, what the hell. i want d&s to talk about their shared feelings for high school teachers and to realise, in retrospect, as adults, that what happened was crossing lines. let blair and vanessa suddenly drop dan and do the movies + galleries stuff on their own. and dan’s like ??? but he’s busy being a parent with nate supporting him. dan’s drama is very much parenting things. there would be some nonsense involving nate’s family pushing back, because ‘we stood by while you dated him, nate, we thought it was a phase. but raising a child with another man? this is unacceptable.’ i would like nate to get disowned by the family, and need to find his own feet. and to get a REAL SHOT AT HAPPINESS away from that terrible environment.

season 5: i want this to be a good serena season. let her find her calling doing creative things. let her and carter travel the world. let her just be whoever she wants to be. let her and vanessa patch their friendship up. let her have an open relationship with carter, let her have a lot of sex with a lot of random people and not feel guilty about it. let her really really blossom. i want more eric! maybe he’s in london with jenny, and she’s working on her fashion stuff, and he’s realising that he really wants to be a counsellor. 

some time-skips, maybe. i really want to see dan’s whole thing of being a parent. sending milo to kindergarten and spending the whole time milo’s gone on edge and anxious about everything that could go wrong, while nate comforts him. let nate try to get a job because he no longer has a trust fund, and navigate everything that comes with that. let vanessa be there for him. why the fuck am i phrasing my sentences like this - can you tell that i studied physics once?? oh well.

blair & vanessa handling a lot of things. vanessa meeting harold!! vanessa’s parents being disapproving of blair, but ruby standing up for her. blair & vanessa planning their future properly. blair & vanessa babysitting milo and talking about kids. 

and there can be drama too, there should always be drama. but i would like wholesome stuff at the centre of it too, you know? the ivy/lola nonsense can go on in the background, i don’t actually care that much. as long as ivy doesn’t go around fucking people’s fathers for no understandable or discernable reason, i don’t really care lkdhlfdkhg. (it was just so inexplicable and so random!)

season 6: uh, i don’t know. this was a bad season for everyone in canon, except chuck. i would throw it all away. i would actually love if we had pre-series rufly instead: every time those two bring up their past together i’m like 👀 because it sounds like a dream. or focus entirely on jenny and eric and their life. i am obsessed with jenny and eric being... sort of queerplatonic, sort of like, best friends. there’s no romance and no sex between them (eric’s canonically gay, and jenny’s a lesbian because i said so) but i think the way jenny and eric are is very, very life partners in a way that isn’t romantic OR sexual. so they’d have a little place together and would support each other. and just. what are they up to now? also. kati, iz, penelope, hazel, nelly... what r they doing now? one of the few things i actually liked about s6 as it was was that nelly was that reporter and that she’d found her people in yale. nelly yuki getting a happy and fulfilling ending and being a successful woman was so good and we actually got a little bit of that. i’d like more of that, for the rest of the girls, you know?

#anon #long post #this is almost 1.9k words long but it was fun to write LDKHLGKHFGKH #gossip girl #i know there's no dair i am so sorry about that #but honestly the way this was panning out i had to like #choose between dair & blairnessa #RIP #meta #?? #prompt #my writing #??? #gg rewrite

[consultingsister-aa]

five times kissed / bash ( any verse )

this meme for: @theasteriae​ verse: happy verse

I. 

Celia has never seriously dated before. There were boys but they had little to no interest in getting to know her. They just wanted to fuck her. People were always saying she was too pretty for her own good and she was starting to think that was true. 

Only Basher Moran didn’t seem that bothered about how pretty she was. Although she assumed, that was what drew him to her in the first place. It was silly and unrealistic to say otherwise and she certainly fancied him from the moment she saw him. It had nothing to do with her laugh and everything to do with his jawline. It wasn’t true anymore now. 

It had been one of the best summers of her life. She could hardly believe she had been tempted to turn Alex down, to return to Surrey, alone and melancholy. Sherlock has said he would come up but would have likely cancelled last minute. Cee has never spent so much time with people apart from at school and it took a while to get used to all the sibling and cousin dynamics. It was like something from one of her books; The Chronicles of Narnia or The Famous Five. They all had inside jokes and pet names and moved around each other like a choreographed dance. She knew her bothers well enough but she rarely had to deal with a cramped kitchen and sharing bedrooms. They knew each other differently than the Morans. 

It had been a fantasy of hers to live like this. When she was young and it was just her alone in that big house, she would daydream about having lots of brother’s and sister’s and cousins to play with. Adventures at the beach; caves and pirate treasure. She imagined herself into their childhood and al of a sudden, felt a lump in her throat. It was more than jealousy; it was something like grief. Greif for that lonely little girl who would always aways be alone. 

“What’s up?” Bash interrupted her thoughts. Clearly, her state of mind has shown on her face. 

“Nothing. I’m just a little sad to go back to school after all this.” 

Bash sighed knowingly, turning back to look out over the water. Even though she had come with Alex, Celia was spending more and more time on the beach with Bash. They sat in the dunes, a blanket around their shoulders, watching the sun fall into the freezing water. Even in the height of summer, the water was freezing. “Yeah, I’ll miss the beach,” he agrees. 

She turns to look at his profile, shoulder bumping into his. “I’ll miss you.” She didn’t quite mean you individually, she meant you as a family, but she was glad he took it that way. 

He turned to look at her and then leant in to kiss her for the first time, both their heads moving in the opposite way so they didn’t bump noses, as if it has been rehearsed. Cee had never been kissed like that before but it was almost exactly how the songs and books and poems described it. It was like seeing fireworks. But perhaps more wonderfully, when he kissed her like that, she didn’t feel so alone. 

II.

It had felt like a long time since that first kiss, although it has only been seven years. In the prospect of a lifetime together, that was short. But she couldn’t help but think about that moment, as she stood at the waters edge, champagne glass in hand, breathing deeply in the cool evening air. Behind her, her specially built carnival glows, reflecting in the dark waters. 

She’s changed from her wedding dress into a short ballet style tutu skirt, which stopped a little north of where her father, new husband and aunt-in-law might have liked. Long legs end in bare feet and she lets the water lap up against her ankles. 

“Hey, Mrs Moran-- there about twenty million people wanting to see you back there.” 

She turns back with a smile, just in time to see Bash - messy hair, jacket long gone, shirt sleeved rolled up - before he wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss into the side of her face. “There are not twenty million people, you’re such a drama queen.” 

He laughs. She does too. Then they relax into silence and both watch the waves. After a moment, Cee begins to cry. 

“Hey, hey,” Bash moves to turn her round, concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing-- I’m just-- I’m just so--” 

“What? Oh god, you’re regretting it already. I said, if you weren’t ready, that we could--”

“Happy!” Cee interupsts him with laugh, “Bash, I’m happy. I am so happy.” 

He looks so relived, it only makes Cee laugh again; more happy tears spilling onto her cheeks. He pulls her close, a deep kiss, just them. Maybe the big party was too much. She was danced out; talked out; laughed out. She just wanted this. And the best bit was, she had it, and she had it forever. 

III. 

“Twins!?” 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

Cee can tell the nurse wasn’t expecintg that reaction from her, but she couldn’t care less. One more baby was enough of a shock, but two more? She looks over at Bash, who’s grinning and offers a look as if to say ‘what are you smiling about, you bastard’. 

“I am very serious Mrs Moran. You can see one heart beat here,” the nurse points to a black mass on the monitor, “and the second,” another black mass, “here.” Cee will just have to take her word for it. She got very upset when she couldn’t see what the nurse was talking about with Beua but she’s over it this time. She’s already over being pregnant this time and now it’s just going to be two times worse? Well, it was always two times worse but now she knows about it. “I’ll leave this up and give you a minute,” the nurse smiles at the parents and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Cee’s face is full of panic. 

“What?” Bash moves into the side of the hospital bed, taking Cee’s hand in his. 

“What do you mean, what? Bash-- I can’t handle three kids. You’re away all the time. I didn’t even know if I could do two but three babies? I’m out of my depth here.” 

“So what are you saying? You want to-- not--” 

“No, no, I’m just-- it’s a lot, Bash. Twins. That’s twice the baby!” 

“And you,” now he moves his hands to her face. Eye contact is key with Cecelia, pyshical contact and looking her in the eye. “Are twice the woman. You can do this. You can do anything.” 

Cee takes a calming breath and nods. “I love you,” she manages and leans forward to kiss him softly, just in time for the door to reopen. They never get a moments peace anymore. 

IV. 

Celia closes the bedroom door very gentle behind her. It feels like having babies again; a house full she doesn’t want to wake up. Bash just smiles up at her, taking off his glasses. He’s only been in the job four hours and he’s already bringing work to bed. 

“Do they love their new rooms?” 

Celia pulls an apoletic look, pulling off her dressing gown. “Immy says she wants to go home.” 

“To Suffolk?” 

“Yeah.”

“She’s knows she’s now living in Downing Street, right?” 

“You know that a ten year old could not care less, right?” 

Bash just laughs, laying his arm out over her pillows so she can snuggle in next to him. For a moment, they just sit there, head leant back against the headboard, drinking it all in. They had been working towards this for over ten years and now? The real work was just beginning. She can already feel her eyes getting heavy. “You’re happy here though, right?”

“Mm,” she hums. She’s not sure yet. Suffolk is her home, more than she ever though it would be. It was where the boys all grew up, their childhood rooms even though they were all grown up and out the house now. It was where Immy was born, where they played capture the flag and five aside football when the rest of the family came over. 

Downing Street might be a symbol of how far they had come, but it wasn’t home and she doubted, no matter how long they were here, it would ever feel like one. She already had plans to nip back to Suffolk the first weekend they could. “Yeah, this is what we’ve wanted for so long. We just need to settle into it.” Cee looks up to Bash, smiling at the fine lines already marking his face. But his eyes look the same as they did when he kissed her for that very first time on the beach. He’s so good to her, always. 

She kisses him, the sort of kiss they haven’t had in a while. Five kids, two demanding careers and a whole country wanting his attention tends to lead to pecks of affection and quickies whenever they can get it. But they have a moment now. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, lips still touching his. “I’m so proud of us. For everything, not just this job. I love you.” 

V. 

They had been in rooms like this so many times over the years. The bad lighting, the round tables, the stage. Only, rarely for her. She had, happily, she wanted to add, taken a back seat for most of her life. Her skillset was better suited to a life of support and planning; organising and committing herself to the task at hand. Whether they was her husband’s career, or her children’s lives. How could she call them children now though? Immy sat next to her, one arm lazily draped across her own baby bump, the other reached out to hold her mother’s hand. 

All heads had turned to the stage as a larger man in a ill-fitting suit took to the podium. His welcome speech was short and sweet, something Cee appreciated. She had told anyone who she could that she wasn’t bothered; even to be nominated was an honour but she was bothered. Her stomach swam with anxiety in a way it hadn’t done in years. 

“And the winner, of the twenty-forty-eight Booker Prize goes to... Cecelia Holmes.”

The table around her, well dressed and well mannered, rose with celebration; clapping together hands together and whooping. Immy kissed her cheek, Beua was quick to follow but she wouldn't get around them all. Although, she couldn’t forget one of them. 

Bash had sat across from her for most of the night. Although it was her night, it was also the first time in months all the family had been together in one place. Well, not all the family. You could fill the whole room with all the family. They were on stand-by, waiting for the news. They could have a party anyway, Immy had said, but they’d take down the banners if she didn’t win, though she suspected they wouldn’t have to. That had made Cee laugh. All the family tonight mean the six kids. Beua, Cass, Edmund, Perc, Immy and Hugo, ranging in ages from early forties, to twenty-two. Her children. Fuck the books, these wonderful, clever, funny, thoughtful kids were the best thing she had ever done with her life. And it was all thanks to Bash. They had caught each others eyes all night and it had made her feel young again. Like when they used to catch each other eyes over the dinner table at Nettle Cottage. 

She was aware there was a room full of people waiting for her but she was hungry for the kiss. Her hands reached for his face and she wasn’t that surprised to see a tear in his eye. “I’m so proud of you,” Bash managed, although years of shouting in Westminster had left his voice a little hoarse. She kissed him again, although she could feel the ever secible and dependable Beua trying to take her arm towards the stage. 

“Of us,” Cee corrected him, before allowing her oldest son to resort her to the edge of the stage. She hadn’t prepared a speech but she thought she might mention that first kiss, under a tartan blanket, on a beach in Suffolk that inspired a lifetime of literary work. 

#theasteriae #( i. message ) #( i. save ) #( vi. ceebastian ) #( v. happy verse )

[ayy-jayy-siciliani]

One Year || Self-Para

When: March 23rd, 2021 ; March 22nd, 2020

Where: Pico District, Santa Monica, California; Ocean Park, Santa Monica, California

Warnings: Gaslighting, Emotional Abuse, Violence, Abuse Mention. 

Featuring: Lexa and Maverick Maxwell

Like every Tuesday, AJ made his way to therapy to talk about his mental health struggles and life in general. It was nearly two years ago that he decided to go into therapy because of the haunting childhood memories coming back in flashes, but today, marked a year. It was a very serious year that he didn’t talk about, the turbulent times with his ex girlfriend, Madison. Today would be the day he’d open the letter to himself that he wrote to himself last year. It would be a day where he’d probably cry in the office and ask Lydia to lay on her lap later on and drown out the noise from the world. Either way, it was a hard day because of what surfaced back to the surface. 

When he was handed the letter from Dr. T, he could feel his heart racing against his chest. 

“Take your time, AJ. It’s okay.” 

He nodded at the woman, biting his lip nervously as he opened the letter and took at the scrawled writing. He could remember how shaky his hands were as he wrote down everything in an account. It was a page of pain, of heartache, of feeling so useless, of feeling like he failed as a human being. When in reality, none of it was his fault. 

****************** 

March 22nd, 2020, AJ’s Beach House. 

“Luke hangs around the other two and I don’t feel comfortable having him at the party,” AJ pointed out with a concerned look as he leaned against the counter. 

Madison scoffed, rolling her icy blue eyes as she made her way through the living room, picking up for the event. “None of them have been around here at all, so it’s likely Luke realized the other two guys aren’t shit and he just wanted to have fun. It’s no big deal.” 

It was something Madison always said to AJ. She constantly invalidated how he was feeling, constantly made him feel like he was paranoid. 

“You’re being such a Sag, chill out,” She retorted at his silence. AJ sighed, and shook his head. He was standing his ground this time. 

“Nahh man. He’s real simpatico with the other two, I’ve seen it before. Even Mav’s seen them talking—“ 

“I mean I didn’t see that he was talking to them, bu tat this point. There’s nothing we can do. It’s mad fucked up to be like ‘jk, you can’t come because you know people we don’t like,’” She interrupted him.

At this point AJ started to back down and then said, “I’m just saying, keep an eye out for that cause he can’t be trusted. I’mma leave it at that.” 

“If we’re taking back invites, then you can tell them,” Madison responded, her ice cold glare met AJ’s defeated stare. She was relentless. Always pushing, always wanting to climb the ranks. She’d do anything for a smidge of popularity. Even if it meant making him and his friends uncomfortable. 

“If you want to invite them, that’s your prerogative. I’m just saying be careful what you say around him since you want to keep him. That’s all,” He finally said as he pushed himself off the counter to go grab the door, but before he could, Madison snapped. In typical Madison fashion. 

“If you want to fucking tell them that they’re not invited then that’s YOUR prerogative and you can go ahead and figure out how to do that without making us look like a bunch of jackasses and making it so no one wants to come to the party because we take back invitations and don’t let people in if we don’t like the people they hang around. I’m not sitting here pointing fingers at the whole city —“ 

AJ had dissociated so hard, that he didn’t even realize that Maverick had walked into the apartment with the beef and cooler for the beer to where he saw the whole commotion. He looked at AJ with sad eyes, watching him get completely torn apart by that pompous bitch. Ever since she moved to Santa Monica, she swore up and down that she was queen of the joint just because her family was good at real estate, big fucking whoop. 

“I mean, I was about to invite Lexa and that bitch is buddy buddy with Vanessa and your sister. Like we aren’t giving people we don’t know chances now? Like literally NONE of those guys have been around to harass you or your friends. Sometimes people like to party hop, who are we to judge? But if you want to kick him out, you can tell them and you can figure out how to do it,” She rambled. 

“You know what, fuck you, Madison. I’m tired of your fucking shit. Leave AJ alone and go fuck off somewhere,” Mav snapped at her, causing AJ to snap back into reality. 

“Mav, it’s good—I got this,” He said. 

“Are you going to let him fucking talk to me like that, Anthony?!” Madison screeched. 

“Madison, shut up, holy shit!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, his body trembling in anger. 

Maverick quickly backed out at how loud AJ had yelled, as he had never seen the other male ever this angry. Madison, was stunned to silence. 

“Fuck this. I’m out. Do whatever you want,” Madison finally said after a moment of silence. 

“It’s not even my fucking party, so???” AJ called out. 

“Fuck you, I’m out. Do whatever you want. Cancel it, send everyone home. I don’t care because I’m not dealing with this disrespectful petty bullshit,” She fired back. 

“Aight, bet. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” He shrugged. 

“You know how fucking toxic and fucking bullsht and petty that is? And if you don’t, then I don’t know what to say, either way, we’re done here. I’m out. I’m not doing this again. I literally said I wouldn’t do this again if it was like this, so I’m not,” She rambled on. 

“Okay, so what’re you doing here then? I already told you, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Do I need to spell it out for you, Mads? It’s over. O-V-E-R,” He said with vitriol filling his system. She attempted to go in to slap him when a hand came in and twisted her arm. 

“He said it’s over and I believe he asked for you to leave, did he not, Madison?” Lexa called out. 

“Ow, you’re hurting me!” She shrieked. 

“And yet you were about to hurt a good friend of mine. Make that make sense. It doesn’t right? Here’s the deal, sweets” Lexa twisted the woman’s arm harder and pushed her up against the wall. 

Meanwhile, AJ made his way over to the bathroom with Maverick in tow to make sure his best friend was okay. 

“You’re going to leave MY city by the end of the night or I will let Gossip God in on the whole ordeal and I will make sure your reputation is destroyed and your family’s little ‘empire’ will fall to pieces at my hands. You’re done here, Madison,” Lexa responded, venom seeming through every word. 

Madison looked at Lexa with contempt for a moment as Lexa continued to twist the woman’s arm harder until there was fear, and pain, in her eyes. “Do, I make myself clear?” Lexa asked. 

“Crystal,” She yelped out. 

With that, Madison was out the door and never to be seen again…and AJ had to be put together in order to brave through this party. 

****************************************

“Dear AJ,” AJ began, “You went through a nightmare of an evening. You dumped your girlfriend after months of invalidation, of feeling worthless, of feeling less than a man. It was hard, but you had your friends to support you.” 

He took a breath, and wiped a tear away. “I hope, a year from now you’ll be in a better place. That you’ll find love within yourself. That you’ll learn the good about astrology rather than the bullshit Madison fed you. You’re a good Sagittarius…you’re a good person. Don’t let her take away your power,” He continued. 

“I’m proud of you no matter what. Ma’s proud of you, Ivy’s proud of you, Lola’s proud, Nonna and Pops, your whole family. Don’t let yourself feel less than because of one insecure person. You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy. Hang in there,” He breathed out and could feel the tears welling up. 

Dr. T slid over the tissue box towards AJ and he took a few, wiping a few tears away and took a breath. 

“How did that feel?” 

“Freeing,” He smiled and nodded. “Definitely freeing,” He took a breath. 

“AJ, you’ve come a long way from this. Look at you, in a committed relationship, rising the ranks in the NFL, you have a strong support system. You’re getting there, and even I am proud of you,” the older woman nodded with a smile. 

“Thanks, doc.” 

#sp

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1316

Monday, March 8, 2021

 Coming up on a year since the pandemic started. I hope you're all healthy and safe. I am hopeful that vaccines will be deployed widely and help us all feel less anxious. I am fortunate enough to be one of those people who is happy as a bug snug in a rug while self isolating. I do really miss my dear friends and family but hugs can wait until we're all vaccinated.

 My thanks to Doug for lending me these comic books to read.

 Batman Annual #5 - James Tynion IV (writer) James Stokoe (art) Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the origin of Clownhunter and it's not very original. If I had to pay $4.99 US I would have passed on this and lived with leaving a hole in my Batman collection. If you're not familiar with this new vigilante, he's an Asian teenager named Bao who decides he's going to kill the Joker and all of the villain's sycophants. The reason he becomes Clownhunter (and killer) is very mundane. I wish they could have come up with a new motivator. Maybe the philosophical discussion about what to do about the Joker might interest some fans but I found this story quite tedious. I also didn't like the way Bao and his parents were portrayed. Did they really have an Asian saying "Ah, so"? Yes they did on page 8. Shades of Charlie Chan, Batman. I was not offended, just disappointed.

 Batman/Catwoman #3 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I was thrilled to see the town of Port Orange, Florida mentioned on the first page. My pal Al lives there. It's also where Selina finally catches up with the Joker and does what Batman never did. I love this Black Label book taking familiar characters and treating them in a new and interesting way. Here's a future where Selina has survived her husband Bruce's death and their daughter Helena is the new Batwoman. Now I wait to see how mother and daughter deal with the Angel of Death.

 And now, more Future State books.

 Future State: Robin Eternal #2 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). The consequence of Tim Drake/Robin being dunked in Lazarus resin is that now he's immortal. Whoop-dee-doo. Not only is this a boring Robin beats up bad guys issue but the art lacked any logical perspective. This issue takes place on a train but you would think it's in a huge building based on the art. I know it's comic books but I hate when one doesn't make visual sense. I think that's just laziness.

 Future State: Kara Zor-El Superwoman #1 & #2 - Marguerite Bennett (writer) Marguerite Sauvage (art) Wes Abbott (letters). This 2-issue fairy tale was not meant for old farts like me and Doug. With it's soft pastel colours these books should have included glitter and bubblegum flavoured lip gloss. Maybe young tween girls will like this. The moral of this story is "no one is born wise".

 Future State: Dark Detective #3 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). There are not one but two Batmans in this issue. You've got Bruce in his new capeless costume but here he's wearing a trench coat to give that fluttering effect, and then there's the new guy in the Bat suit, cape and all. The "uh-oh" point of the story hits here when the bad guys discover where Bruce is hiding out. The Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) Grifter story concludes here too with a double cross and a whole lot more of Helena/Huntress. This is my favourite Future State book so far.

 Future State: Superman of Metropolis #1 & #2 - Sean Lewis (writer) John Timms (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). If you're wondering how a grown up Jonathan Kent takes over for his dad as Metropolis's protector then these two $5.99 US books will satisfy your curiosity. The villain of the story is an evolved Brainiac who is a big multi-mouthed ball now. Metropolis is shrunk ala the bottle city of Kandor, the citizens go nuts but Jon returns things back to normal in the end with the help of Kara/Supergirl. I don't know why Kara's a girl in this story and a woman elsewhere. Each issue has two back-ups so you get your money's worth. One features Mister Miracle and the other the Guardian. They are both dealing with bad things inside the bottled Metropolis. You won't miss much if you don't read them. The Mister Miracle story "The Metropolis Menagerie" is done my Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). The Guardian story is brought to you by Sean Lewis (writer) Cully Hamner & Michael Avon Oeming (art) Laura Martin (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). This one got me excited because a villain wants to throw Jimmy Olsen off of the Daily Planet building.

 Future State: Catwoman #2 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Read this to find out if Catwoman saves the lives of the people on the train. You will also find out if Bruce is freed from the bad guys. Talia Al-Ghul appearing is the deus ex machina in this story. I like the new Cheshire and Onomatopoeia is always fun.

 Future State: Superman: Worlds of War #2 - Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters). In "The Many Deaths of Superman" the Man of Steel fights in the arena of Warworld where Mongul resurrects him after every death match. It's the typical brutal battle scenes and super villain gloating. What's more compelling is an old newspaper story that Clark Kent wrote that inspired a young woman who travels to Smallville. I was totally confused by the three back-up stories featuring Mister Miracle, Midnighter and the Black Racer because they were not very good. I am a completist and have to finish what I start. I could have stopped reading after the $3.99 US main story in this bloated $7.99 US comic book  but my obsessive compulsive nature wouldn't let me. It's a character flaw I wish I could change.

 Future State: The Next Batman #1 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). All the teasers for this book hyped the fact that this Batman is black. You won't get the secret identity in this first issue but there are a bunch of likely candidates. Lucas Fox is a possibility but it's confusing because he's a bad guy in another Future State book. This is another $7.99 US book with back-ups. These are more coherent than the ones in Future State: Superman: Worlds of War.

Future State: Outsiders by Brandon Thomas (writer) Sumit Kumar (pencils) Sumit Kumar & Raul Fernandez (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Steve Wands (letters) gathers together some old Batman associates helping Gotham City citizens escape persecution by the Magistrates outside Gotham City's borders. Get it? It was nice seeing Katana in action.

Future State: Arkham Knights by Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) & Rob Leigh (letters) gathers together some of Batman's rogues gallery to fight the oppressive Magistrate. Two-Face, Mr. Zsasz, Dr. Phosphorus, Killer Croc and other ex-inmates of Arkham Asylum are being lead by an armoured Astrid Arkham. It's super villains being super heroes.

 Future State: The Next Batman #2 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). We learn the secret identity of the new caped Batman in this issue. It's Lucas Fox's brother. He has a brother? This also has three new back-up stories.

"Batgirls" is by Vita Ayala (writer) Aneke (art) Trish Mulvihill (colours) & Becca Carey (letters). Batgirl/Orphan Cassandra Cain gets locked up in the Magistrate Detention Facility where both good guys/white hats and bad guys/black coats are incarcerated. She got caught on purpose because her mission is to find Oracle and Batman and free them. She gets help from Spoiler who is queen of the inmates. In this reality Cass is way more articulate than she used to be. I didn't like that. I also didn't like that in the other Future State stories the Magistrate foot soldiers have a shoot to kill order for any masks that they encounter. Why are all of these masks alive? Anyways, this part ends with the white hats and black coats forming an alliance so Cass can get on with her mission.

"Gotham City Sirens: Ladies' Night Out" is by Paula Sevenbergen (writer) Rob Haynes (breakdowns) Emanuela Lupacchino (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) John Kalisz (colours) Becca Carey (letters). Catwoman and Poison Ivy spring a domestic droid named Dee Dee (get it?) from servitude and they have a night on the town at a bar. The bar is run by Sam Bradley and both super heroes and villains can imbibe in peace. Fans of Sex and the City may like this. Not a lot of drama until the last page when the joint is raided by Magistrate goons and major characters are shot.

 Future State: The Next Batman #3 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). This is the "uh-oh" moment in the story where the hero is felled by the villain. A wounded Batman is attacked by the murderer he's trying to bring to justice. I saw that coming.

I like the change with Black Lightning in the Outsiders back-up.

I like the art in the Arkham Knights back-up even though the dialogue is eye roll inducing.

 Future State: The Next Batman #4 - Jace/Batman lives, as if that was in any doubt. This story would have been a lot more interesting if Bruce/Batman was really dead. Even if the Future State line of comics dies out this Next Batman is a cop out. The Batgirls story ends with Cassandra/Orphan saving Barbara/Oracle and the Resistance gaining ground on the Magistrates. The Gotham City Sirens story ends with Catwoman and Poison Ivy helping the Resistance get an advantage in their war with the Cybers thanks to Dee Dee.

 I admit that I was sucked in by the hype for this mini. The Next Batman being black intrigued me. The story itself was meh and I would not have missed anything by not reading it. I was not engaged as a mature reader but I think someone in their teens might like all the stories in these four issues.

[madlori]

Unveiled - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 3300 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Definitely sex in this one.

Read it on AO3

A week passed.

Zhenya and his consort did not have sex every day, but it was frequent. Temporarily free from the pressure to conceive, they engaged in a variety of non-procreative activities as they explored one another’s preferences. He learned that his partner did not enjoy having his feet touched (the first thumbs-down signal he received from him) and had to deploy their signal himself when the consort had started to maneuver them into the 69 position, one he found deeply uncomfortable. That still left a lot of options, though. 

He saw Sidney almost every day. Sometimes they took a ride together, sometimes they fished. Sidney made good on his promise to teach Zhenya to spar, and he flattered himself that he was picking it up quickly. 

He tried to keep his outings with Sidney...unobtrusive, and away from too many observers. But he was pretty sure that his fondness for Sidney would be apparent to anyone who saw them together, and he was becoming increasingly confident that Sidney was fond of him, too. He worried about the staff gossiping, or thinking him a cad for socializing with another man, but given that he was literally prohibited from socializing with his consort, Sidney’s friendship was a luxury he couldn’t seem to deny himself. He’d had so few genuine, true friends in his life, and he didn’t want to give it up. Not to mention that whatever people assumed, he wasn’t actually having an affair with him -- his interactions with Sidney were wholly platonic. His attraction to him lay uneasily alongside his intense desire for his consort, and his continued admiration for how his husband was conducting himself in his new life. Seryozha sang his praises at every opportunity, and embargo or no embargo, the palace staff were all becoming very fond of him.

Of course they are, they actually get to talk to him, Zhenya sometimes groused to himself. He yearned for the day when he’d see the man’s face, and hear his voice, and finally share his life with him as they were meant to.

But unveiling his consort would mean losing Sidney. It was a trade he was prepared to make, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dreading it.

His parents had departed on a trip abroad right after his wedding, and the day they returned was the day Zhenya hoped that they’d get news about his consort’s conception or lack thereof. He’d seen his husband several times in the palace that morning, guards in tow (no sign of Sidney, for which he was guiltily grateful)...everyone seemed to be milling around in a holding pattern, as if they all knew that today was important.

“Zhenya, my son, you look good,” his father said, hugging him enthusiastically and slapping his back. Zhenya’s father was nearly a foot shorter than he was, a source of much mirth around the palace, and it made such greetings awkward to say the least.

“You too, Papa. How was your trip?” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheeks as they moved to the settee in his parents’ drawing room.

“Dull, dull, dull. Balls and dinners and meetings and the same boring conversation every time. The only bright spot was the many congratulations on your marriage.”

“We appreciate them.”

“How is your consort, my dear?” his mother asked.

“He is very well.”

“And you are...getting along all right?”

He smiled. “We’re getting along great, mother. He’s a remarkable man.”

His father frowned. “You haven’t broken embargo, have you?”

“No sir, absolutely not. It’s just that one can’t help but deduce a few things about someone you see so often. I hear how the staff speaks of him, and I know how he’s behaved towards me. These things reveal a man’s character.”

“Of course. Just...be cautious. The whole idea of embargo is to minimize attachment.”

“I know.” He didn’t mention that the task of minimizing attachment was already a dismal failure, on several fronts.

The door opened and a page entered. “Your Majesties, Dr. Rjskov would like permission to enter with His Highness the Prince Consort.”

His father sighed. “Was he waiting by the door for a cue? I imagine this is news we should all hear.” He looked at Zhenya. “Embargo will be observed once your husband enters, son. Anything you want to say now before they come in?”

“No, sir.” Zhenya was on his feet and all but vibrating out of his clothes.

The page opened the door and Dr. Rjskov entered. At his side was the consort, draped in his dressiest veils (Zhenya had gotten to know the range of drapings he possessed) over a suit. He bowed to the King and Queen, then came to stand next to Zhenya. Dr. Rjskov was walking ramrod straight, like he was being filmed. “Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness. I come before you this afternoon with the news that His Highness, the Prince Consort, is with child.”

His father whooped and his mother cheered; they embraced each other, beaming wide, happy smiles, his mother dashing tears from her eyes. Zhenya’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest. He stood there stunned for a moment, then looked down into his consort’s upturned face and wished he could see it. He grinned and a fast exhale escaped his chest. He lifted his eyebrows in a “really?” gesture, watching the consort...he nodded quickly, the gesture containing all his own excitement and relief.

If he’d been a regular person with an ordinary spouse, learning that they were to become parents, he’d have been able to kiss him, to see the joy on his face, to babble excitedly with him and talk about what to do next. But none of that was available to him, because he was a prince, and this was his embargoed consort, and he did not even know the man’s name to exclaim it aloud in jubilation. All he could do, all he could think to do, was clasp his consort’s gloved hands and press them to his lips.

“Doctor, do you know when the consort conceived?” his father was asking. 

“Yes, based on our bloodwork, I believe His Highness conceived on the wedding day.”

Zhenya’s heart soared again; that was the best possible outcome, as it meant the shortest embargo. If all went well, he’d see his husband’s face in less than three months.

As his father and the doctor continued to talk about the embargo and the pregnancy, Zhenya just stood and let happiness wash over him. Out of sight of his parents, his consort slipped his hand into Zhenya’s, lacing their fingers together, and squeezed.

----------

Zhenya paced in his bedroom later that night, hoping to hear a knock soon. He considered going through and knocking himself, but he didn’t want to presume. He preferred that any contact they had was initiated by the consort, and he felt pretty confident that contact would be initiated, tonight of all nights.

He’d barely had time to internalize the news before the consort was whisked away by his mother so they could start talking about whatever baby-related plans had to be made, which of course had to be done out of Zhenya’s earshot. His father had immediately started harassing him about plans for the unveiling. Such a large occasion, the formal unveiling followed by a public introduction and a grand ball, required a lot of work and even though there was always a chance it would have to be cancelled, they’d proceed as if it would go ahead when the consort’s pregnancy reached three months.

Zhenya had finally been allowed to retire after dinner, his head spinning, half-dizzy from the emotion of the day.

A child. He’s carrying my child. I’m going to be a father. We’re going to be parents.

I wonder if he’s told Sidney.

The thought drew him up short. He realized with a jolt that Sidney hadn’t crossed his mind all day, which was unusual. He also hadn’t so much as glimpsed him today, which was also unusual. He wondered where he’d gotten off to. He’d seen the consort’s guards, including Fleury and Letang and Crosby (the strong blond ponytailed woman he’d noticed the first day), but not Sidney.

He jumped when the knock finally came, feeling guilty that he’d been thinking of someone else when his consort asked for his attention. He leapt to the door and flung it wide, grinning. He couldn’t see it but he could almost sense his consort’s answering grin beneath his drapings. Zhenya couldn’t help himself; he rushed into their bedchamber and swept his husband into his arms, embracing him fully for what was actually the first time. They’d held each other in bed, but had never hugged like this. It wasn’t forbidden, but it was generally considered bad form to touch an embargoed consort anywhere he or she was veiled, which sort of ruled out all but the most perfunctory hugs, which this was not.

He didn’t care, and judging by the enthusiasm with which his consort hugged him back, he didn’t care, either. He felt broad and strong in Zhenya’s arms, his hands digging into Zhenya’s dressing gown and his face tucking into the side of his neck.

Zhenya pulled back and knelt at his consort’s feet, the man’s hands lingering on his shoulders. He slid his hands to the curve of the consort’s waist, those ridges of muscle over his hips forming a V framing his abdomen. Zhenya leaned in and kissed the smooth skin of his flat belly, feeling a hand card through his hair as he did so. He looked up at him, palming the softness at his waist, and the hand in his hair slid down to cup his cheek, the consort’s thumb stroking across his cheekbone. He pulled Zhenya to his feet and held up a “just a moment” finger, then went over to a table near the door into his bedroom. When he returned he was holding a piece of black cloth -- Zhenya realized that it was a blindfold, a large one molded to fit over the upper part of the face. He looked up, confused.

His consort held up the blindfold, pointed to it and then to Zhenya, and then mimed removing his veils. Zhenya’s heart stuttered -- was he suggesting...? He was. Zhenya nodded eagerly, and between the two of them they stripped him quickly of his dressing gown and pajamas. The consort sat him down in a chair then hesitated a moment, holding the blindfold. Zhenya squeezed his hand in encouragement. His husband gave a nod, then carefully placed the blindfold over Zhenya’s eyes and tied it behind his head. Its shape, sweeping down over his cheeks and halfway up his forehead, meant that not even a sliver of vision was left to him. He felt a hand stroke down his face and then sensed him step away.

He heard a quiet rustling of fabric and anticipation clenched in his belly. Here in this room, mere feet from him, his husband was unveiled and exposed, naked before him. He felt the warmth of his body as he stepped close again and then...oh, and then.

The consort joined him in the chair, straddling his lap. No drapings separated them now. Zhenya’s hands twitched nervously; he could scarcely believe he was allowed to touch him freely. His husband had to pick up his hands and place them on his smooth, bare chest. Zhenya shuddered and his hands trembled against his consort’s warm skin. The consort slid his own arms around Zhenya’s neck and leaned in; there it was again, the smell of him, clean and strong, earth after a thunderstorm. His breath ghosted over Zhenya’s face, bearing a hint of the spiced hot tea that he liked to drink.

The consort cupped Zhenya’s face and leaned even closer. Zhenya craved him; he was desperate to close the gap but he didn’t dare -- he could barely bring himself to touch him. Then, barely louder than a puff of air, his mate whispered “Husband” and pressed his mouth to Zhenya’s.

The touch sent a shock through Zhenya’s whole body. No kiss in his long history of kissing men had ever felt like this, had ever felt so consuming, so earth-shattering. He fell into his husband’s mouth, Zhenya’s arms winding around his back and holding him close. The consort’s lips were full and plush; he was solid and strong in Zhenya’s arms. His mouth opened beneath Zhenya’s and they tilted into each other, breath coming faster and hearts thudding against each other’s chests. 

Zhenya slid one arm underneath his hips and stood up, bearing the consort with him. He felt a slight gasp escape the man at being hoisted up like this. He wrapped his legs around Zhenya’s narrow hips and kissed him harder as Zhenya carried him to the bed and laid them both down. For an indeterminate time they writhed together, hardly able to contain their mutual excitement at this newfound freedom to touch.

But that freedom did have its limits, Zhenya realized after a few moments. Several times he lifted his hands to his partner’s face and had them gently redirected. Clearly his consort didn’t want him forming a visual picture of his face through touch. Zhenya could have told him that his fingers weren’t so skilled that he could see with them as a blind man would, but his consort wasn’t taking the chance. Zhenya could kiss his face -- and kiss it he did, all over and then again -- but touching it was off the table.

He kissed down the man’s throat, feeling his pulse throbbing beneath his lips, and then down his chest. His nipples were flat and soft; Zhenya’s tongue flicked over them, wondering when they would begin to distend in preparation for their child’s arrival. His consort’s hands were all over him, in his hair, on his face, clutching at his shoulders, as if he couldn’t touch enough of him. Zhenya’s hands roamed his back and chest, sliding down to his ass; they were both hard but the novelty of this new contact was distracting enough that neither of them were paying much attention to their cocks.

Even without touching his face, Zhenya gleaned a little new information about his husband. He had short hair, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. His features felt strong, his jaw sharp and well-defined. None of this told Zhenya much at all, but he hoarded any morsel of intelligence about his consort that he could find.

It didn't help that his mind insisted on conjuring up Sidney’s face, much as he commanded it to discard the image as irrelevant. The two men seemed to be merging in his subconscious to the point that if he imagined what Sidney’s cock looked like, he saw it as like his husband’s, and when he imagined his husband’s face, there was Sidney. 

They rolled on the bed, kissing wildly and grabbing at each other, for what felt like a very long time before Zhenya’s arousal began demanding that he move things along. All at once, he knew what he wanted. He pulled his consort on top of him and parted his legs so his partner’s hips slotted between them. The consort pulled back a bit, moving his hips forward carefully, his body asking if this was what Zhenya wanted. Zhenya nodded and wrapped his hands around the back of the consort’s neck, pulling him back down into a kiss.

His husband slipped a hand between them and positioned his cock, then thrust forward into Zhenya with a shuddering sigh. Zhenya couldn’t help it, he cried out a little before biting it back and grabbing the consort’s ass, hoping he’d get the message that he wanted it, and hard.

He got the message. The consort dropped his head into the hollow of Zhenya’s shoulder and fucked him just as he wanted. The day’s news freed them to reverse their habitual roles without concern that Zhenya could become pregnant as well; pregnancy left the consort temporarily sterile. Zhenya couldn’t seem to hold him tight enough, his hands roamed restlessly over every part of him he could reach. His husband had a fantastic cock, and he’d taken great pleasure in it before now, but nothing could have prepared him for what it would feel like inside him.

Nor for the sheer athleticism of his consort. Zhenya was taller but his partner was broader and stronger; he felt wholly surrounded and dominated by him, and to his surprise it was touching a place of arousal he’d never reached before. Being pressed down into the bed by the solid, heavy body of his mate woke a deep desire he hadn’t known he had. His whole body shook and his orgasm snuck up on him, breaking and crashing over him, his cock jerking and spilling between their bodies. The consort kissed the gasps out of his mouth, slipping his hands underneath him to seize his shoulders as he thrust in harder; his body shuddered, he held deep and came into Zhenya.

They sagged into a sweaty, sated heap together, pulling in fast breaths and stroking each other’s skin. Within a few minutes the cooling perspiration felt uncomfortable, and both their bellies were splattered with Zhenya’s come. He felt his husband sit up and get off the bed, then he grasped Zhenya’s hand and pulled him up, too. He led him to the door -- not the door to his own chamber, but to Zhenya’s. Still unable to see, Zhenya let his consort lead him into his own bathroom and then into his large walk-in shower.

Still a bit muzzy-headed from the frankly life-changing sex he’d just had, Zhenya let himself be taken charge of. He stood in the shower while his consort started the water and began washing them both, clearing the sweat and fluids from their bodies, stopping frequently to kiss him. It was an odd sensation to be bathed while blind, but Zhenya was finding it pleasurable. There was something about being cared for like this. Usually it was him looking after his consort, who was embargoed and seen as a precious treasure to be protected and coddled, but having the roles reversed was pleasingly subversive.

They dried each other off and then Zhenya was led to his own bed and sat down on the edge; the consort pressed one finger to his lips in a “wait” gesture, then Zhenya heard him walk away.  He returned in a few moments, untied and removed the blindfold. Zhenya blinked as his eyes readjusted; his consort’s drapings were back in place.

The consort leaned closer, stroked his hand down Zhenya’s face again, and turned to leave. Zhenya caught his hand and held him back; he jerked his chin back over his shoulder at the bed and tugged at his hand.

Stay. Stay here with me.

The consort’s head cocked, questioning. Zhenya nodded. He wasn’t sure his husband would agree. If he stayed, he’d have to sleep in his veils. The consort hesitated, went to the door that led back into the royal bedchamber and his own bedroom...and shut it, staying in Zhenya’s room.

Zhenya grinned and got up, holding out his hand. His husband joined him and they peeled back the sheets and blankets, climbing in together, the consort careful to keep his veils secure around him. It took them a few tries to maneuver into a comfortable sleeping position but they finally spooned up together, Zhenya behind with his husband curled against his chest. He slid his hand over the consort’s hip to rest low on his belly; after a moment, his consort covered Zhenya’s hand with his own.

Next Chapter

#unveiled #sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey rpf #unveiled chapters #my writing

[whats-the-story-tc]

13th of March, 2020

"The One with V's Sister"

[REALLY LONG ONE. I got her back for a day, you best believe I'm savouring every single goddamn second.]

Shenanigans below the cut:

Another day, another ponytail. :-)

I dreamt with her again the night before. We were at this school event and I introduced her to my Dad. As they shook hands, Dad was wondering where he'd heard her name, then asked me if she was the one I always kept talking about. V just chuckled and said that I am her best student, but I never tell her stuff like that. Dream-me was probably blushing profusely.

Right. So. Morning. Bandana Friend and I were at the secretary's office to ask for something and lo and behold, there's V in her usual seat turned towards the door, hands glued to her phone, hair pulled back. I got really excited. I had two whole classes to drink in the sight, and I simply couldn't wait. "Whoop, there she is!" Bandana Friend told me. "Yeah, I saw her. And her hair is up!" We got excited, then remembered we said it loud enough that she could've heard. A laugh was had.

After that encounter, I was informed that we were to write a pretty important test in V's class that I didn't even know about. I tied my hair back as well, and spent the whole of my History class rather anxiously cramming anything and everything Grammar-related. Class ended, and my classmates were pleading with me to try and convince V to postpone the test a little, because she likes me. (It's not worth much, though. They say that about every teacher.) I told them that even though she does, she wouldn't listen to me, either. "There's no getting a plan out of that woman's head," I said.

Turns out, I was once again boo boo the fool. V decided to axe the test and have us write it a week later. I could've kissed her. I actually went: "MISS!" out loud from the surprise, hands thrown up in the air. And not only did she axe the test, she told us exactly what to expect and what we need to know, when we eventually DO write it. And, even though we'd previously discussed everything she mentioned, she took the time to go through everything once again, explain every important thing one by one. And she spoke English again! Okay, it was one word, when she brought up euphony, and said how everyone says German is a violent, angry language because of its phonetics, and brought up the classic "butterfly/Schmetterling" example I'm sure most of you are familiar with.

As she was talking about stylistic value, and how it can differ depending on the context, she brought up the very word she called me the last time we shared a walk, the one I translated as 'babydoll'. I immediately started smiling. Pleasant memories. And, as she went on, now talking paradoxes, she brought up the epigram I associate with her. Odi et amo. I looked away from her with a bittersweet smile. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. But the rest of the time, I couldn't keep my eyes away when I wasn't writing. There was always something to look at. Her hair, her eyes, her smile, her coffee mug necklace, her outfit and body (*cough* low-cut T-shirt *cough*) and basically everything. Cynical Twat (who no longer sits behind me) had his eyes on me for a while, while I was looking at her like she hung the stars. I think he's onto my ass. Fuck.

We also spoke about the other class in our year, as they came up. I asked V if they were ahead of us, as she said she keeps mixing up what she discussed with us and them, and she told me we were basically even at the moment. Then came the obvious question from Blond Boy in the Back: who does she like more? V was very reluctant to answer that, not wanting to generate tension between us, and only wound up saying that we were a lot more disciplined while the other bunch act more freely, and that she likes them and they'll mature someday. She also mentioned she has class with them in really unfortunate time slots and that not even the best class would want anything to do with her or her subject in 7th/8th period. I was about to protest, but I remembered it would be best not to. It's not like she'd respond, anyway.

Towards the end of class, we practised recognising different types of symbolism in poetry. There was this one about tree branches throwing black bouquets on the ground. I wondered what it meant — exactly until the very moment V asked us what it meant. That's when I realised it referred to shadows, and said it immediately. V didn't look at me, just pointed at me as she repeated my answer. She didn't have to reach far — she was standing right next to me. It was quite the common occurence in that very class, as she kind of alternated between standing at the board and by my side. Brb, gotta go get my tinfoil hat.

I also remember the two of us (ft. Comparison Boy I think, but mostly just V and me) having a short debate about whether or not this one famous poem was picture poetry or not. We were so persistent that V ended up telling us something along the lines of "Okay, it can be viewed as such, but technically, it isn't." Ha! Success :)

At the end of class, just to get a proper conversation out of her, I trotted up to her to ask if the definitions of metonymy and synecdoche I jotted down for myself after a bit of extra research were passable. She said that she'd word them a little differently, but technically, they were passable. Cool. End of story.

...at least I thought so. But more on that later.

She gave us back our earlier tests, one Grammar I fucked up here (I only got a B for it, my perfectionist ass can't take it), and the Literature one from here. A+. Huh. And, for once in her life, V actually signed a test! (I'm not exaggerating when I say I've never seen her signature in the past, nearly 2 years.) But what was best, is that when we looked at Debate Friend's test, couldn't finish her essay and barely wrote anything, under it stood, in red V-cursive: "I know you ran out of time." You guys, she gave her maximum points for it! We were full-on gushing when we saw it. Angels walk among us, I tell you.

Later, I had a splitting headache in (foreign) English, and told Curly Friend that I probably would suffer through my upcoming last class of the day if it wasn't going to be with V. I think I told her I always go to V's classes to catch a break. Not because they're easy, but because I can relax and listen to things I love hearing about, from a woman I love listening to. He told me that V was feeling pretty poorly, too (he had double class with her after she was with us), which surprised me. Aside from one story she told us about her dad (she mentioned both her parents today which she doesn't usually do), she was rather very smiley and energised from the very start of class with us. The only time I saw her be more serious was when I spoke to her after class. There was something about her eyes I noticed, but didn't think much into it. The usual sharp-cold fox eyes (I thought it through, they're more fox-like than cat-like), piercing right through the soul upon first glance. Now I realise how tired she must have been.

7th period Literature, aka where things genuinely started getting crazy. Whew. Here we go. Just before we actually got started, my homeroom teacher showed up and called V outside for a minute. You'll later see why. Then, class proceeded as usual. V set up everything, then put on a video about romanticism era here, at home. But, as per usual, V couldn't stop herself from making notes on the board and pausing the video to add her own commentary. Most of the time, she was crouching beside her laptop, with a complete disregard to me looking at her instead of the video whenever she did that. Once the video was over, she explained some things, her back against the board. She realised she got a whole person's name wrong, and, upon noticing she smudged the writing a little, she remarked "I hope I wiped the board with my hair again," and reached for her ponytail. I was laughing to myself. What do you mean again, love? My dearest, the train wreck.

Second video, about this play based on a queen's assassination in the medieval times. V said it was a tragedy, and asked us what a tragedy was. As I was trying to lace my thoughts together, I did notice that quick look she stole at me that basically said "Come on, Specs, you're the drama expert, say something or this is gonna get really awkward." Me and this other boy did manage to answer, though. After that, it was video time. V took a seat on an empty desk at the other side of the classroom, so she wouldn't block the view. Coincidentally, I had perfect view of both the screen and her. And that's where everything started getting mad.

She noticed. As I was watching her reactions, she turned to me and looked me in the eye before turning back to the video. And after that, though I didn't dare to look at her as much, most, if not all my gazes were returned. When the title character eventually stabbed the queen, she let out this extremely ridiculous scream straight out of a cartoon (well, they WERE cartoon silhouettes after all). I look at V, she looks back at me with this smile of "yeah, I know". Thing is, even in the next 'scene' with a trial, taking place presumably days later, the queen's body was still on the ground. I couldn't help myself, and asked "And they just left the queen there?" V burst into a grin as she looked at me to say "No!". This time last year, I used to get very Done™ looks for this kind of joke, and no verbal response at all. We're getting somewhere, ladies and gentlemen and enby people.

After the video ended, I actually raised my hand this once, to point something out. V was about to start speaking, but said "Yeah?" when she saw my hand up, dropping that train of thought immediately. I talked about how ironic it was that only the queen and her brother's silhouettes were black, and the rest of them were white. As I thought, it symbolised who were meant to be the good guys and the bad guys. I also brought up chess, which V agreed to, and I could see she was glad that there's someone who actively pays attention to detail.

I said it was mad before? Whoo, boy, then it's about to get insane.

Class ends, and V is packing. I was standing there anyway, so I thought I'd help a teensy bit, putting the projector cable away for her so she only had to deal with her laptop. I got a "Many thanks" for it when she noticed. And then. Oh, then. I'm standing beside her desk, not saying a goddamn word, and she, completely unprompted, starts talking to me about the play in depth. She didn't even call my name to get my attention, because she knew I'd be listening. (Been there, done that.) She told me that she finds the plot interesting, and as an adult, she can appreciate it, but the whole thing is written in such a dry and complicated way (she frowned saying this), that she can't help but have mixed opinions about it.

These are all things she mentioned in class before and needn't have repeated, but I was kinda glad she did. I let her talk, adding my own opinion whenever I felt like it, drinking in the fact that she wanted to talk to me specifically about it. I told her that as an actress, I find the characters interesting and I'd love to do this play because the plot really does sound interesting. The look she gave me... she looked me in the eyes, not a word said. It wasn't the fox eyes, it felt more like she was focused on me. There was a depth to it, a silent intensity. I have no idea what she could've been thinking, but I think she might have tried to imagine it. "We'll continue this on Tuesday." she told me, as the bell was about to ring. Lmao, as if.

But it didn't end there, oh, no. Sorry, you have to read a little longer. When she left the classroom, I realised: "Hold on there, V, I'm not done with you yet" and immediately went after her. She walked over to Art Friend, who was writing a test outside, at a nearby table, to check up on how she's doing. Me being me, as they finished talking, and more of my friends started to gather around, I decided to check up on how V's doing. And — you guys aren't going to believe this —, for once, she didn't ignore me asking her how she was! She said that even though she wasn't a hundred percent well, she was doing fine. She didn't plan on not being at school on Tuesday, but life got in the way. (She even explained how, we goin' personal in here.) She didn't say anything when I told her to take care of herself, but I didn't really expect her to.

(From here, our topics might not be in chronological order, because I literally don't remember how it happened.)

There we were, on opposite sides of that table, facing each other directly. "Is the weather changing again, Miss? Is that why my head is splitting apart?" I asked her, thinking adults always know about the weather anyway. "Maybe. Or you're just sick and we're all going to die." she told me as she was putting stuff into her laptop bag. "Oh, great. Bright future you're predicting for me, Miss, thank you." I responded, somewhere along the lines of this. I don't remember the exact thing. "We're all going to die one day, aren't we?" "Well, yeah..." "Just think about all the times we could've died as children..." Bright and optimistic topic in the middle of a goddamn pandemic, courtesy of our very own Miss V. But me and Debate Friend chimed right in with our stories anyway. If there are two people who are ride-or-die with V's weird shit, it's us.

I remembered what happened the previous day, Comparison Boy calling me by her name. "[Art Friend], should I tell her about [Comparison Boy and co.]?" I asked my friend out loud, because I know V absolutely hates not knowing stuff. "Oh, Lord, what happened?" V asked immediately, both elbows on the table, watching curiously. See? This is why I adore teasing her. It's the reaction. "Long story short, they don't call me by my name anymore." I said, not daring to look up at her, no matter how coy I was being. Inside, I was still afraid of what she'd say to being compared to me. "Whose, then?" No going back. "Well, yours, Miss." I admitted. Immediately, I heard a "No." of disbelief, and there we were, both of us grinning at the accusations and me talking about how different we are on the inside. "[Curly Friend] found me with his theory, too." V told me, and now I was the one not believing her. I couldn't believe he told her! "What theory?" Art Friend asked. V seemed to have a hard time putting it into words so I helped out. "That she is me 10 years into the future." Yup. That's an actual theory he has. V looked a little... not withdrawn, even though she was leaning away from the table, but... awkward? But to be honest, we both were. "[Curly Friend] is nice, I like him, but if only he had this much creativity for studying..." V said, to close the topic off. Bwahaha.

At some point, my homeroom teacher came over to us when she saw us chatting, giving V's shoulder a little stroke as she walked past behind her to get next to her. I saw V crack a smile, this little, but very pleased one. Theirs is an unlikely friendship, but I stan it so much. She asked V about how Blond Boy in the Back was doing, as he was quite pale, and V said she noticed (she even asked him if he was alright) but nothing really extreme happened. After all the times he'd disrespected her, it's amazing how much V still cares about him. Then, my homeroom teacher mentioned a potential new teacher who might be coming soon (not anymore I guess lmao) and I burst into a fed-up "Again?". We all know what happened last time, after all. V grinned and muttered a half-impressed, half-unbelieving "She says 'Again?'..." to herself.

Art Friend brought up a British actor, but didn't know his name. (I couldn't guess she was talking about James McAvoy until she said His Dark Materials.) She said she was handsome, and V immediately said "I think I know who you're thinking about, and he's not that handsome." I was fully hollering. It was a shorter-lived convo bit, but V mentioned that she cries at every little thing. Now, that's an exaggeration right there, Miss. Also, I'm not entirely sure it was at this point, but sometime during the conversation, I nearly reached out and took her hand as a comforting gesture after something that was said, but stopped myself as soon as my hand moved. I couldn't do that. I had to know my place.

You know what I'm going to miss most about seeing V face-to-face? Her incredibly telling eyes, that speak for her every given minute. This whole conversation through, she was looking at us with this soft, crinkled-up-to-the-point-they're-half-closed eyes, the look a mixture of bliss and calmness... maybe even pride at a push. She looked like there genuinely wasn't anything she'd rather do in that very moment, but talk to us. She is an angel, let me tell you. I don't deserve her.

When she eventually got going, Debate Friend ran ahead (I gave her a Done™ look for a joke and she just bolted off), while V and I walked together. "Are [Curly Friend] and [Debate Friend] related by any chance?" she asked me. "Same hair, same smile, similar personality..." "Well, if we can be compared, so can they." I smiled back. Then something happened I didn't and couldn't account for. Debate Friend shot back, though I don't exactly remember how she worded it, that V and I could be related as well. And I mentally took a deep breath, fully aware of the risk I was taking, and exclaimed, grinning:

"I have an older sister! I've always wanted a sister!"

I can't possibly begin to comprehend that smile. She didn't say anything, but she closed her eyes and her lips pulled up into this really bright smile, something like this emoji: 😊, discount the blush. It went through my mind later that she did it because she was annoyed with me or thought me stupid and she was trying to mask it, then I remembered... it's V. She wouldn't do that, couldn't pretend if she tried. So that leaves us with one explanation: she was glad I said that. She actually liked me saying that and didn't mind being called my sister. I still don't believe it. It was the same smile as the one she said that "Oh, come on!" with on Wednesday, so she might even have been... flattered? Impossible.

Once she called out Debate Friend for addressing a teacher by her last name only, no honorific, she walked away and out of sight, smiling and waving goodbye to us. And that was the last time I saw her in the flesh — possibly for a very long time.

Later that day, I mentioned her and how much she helped me to my psychologist, who used to work in my school a while back. Last time I was there and I spoke about her, she didn't remember V, but now she was fully aware who I was talking about, if a bit surprised. "I never would've thought she is so... sentimental," she said. Me neither, doc. Honestly, me neither. But here we are. She was glad I found someone who helps me this much and I wholeheartedly agreed. How could I not?

It's been a little over a week since all this happened. Online school is kicking my ass, but I'll be fine. I have her. Still... I miss school a lot. I miss hugging my friends and doodling in classes and the thrill of scanning the corridors for a glimpse of a certain Miss V walking past. Here's to hoping it gets better soon. Until then, all of you take care, stay safe and stay home.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

[thaumaturgesaint]

a rambling that got a little too long, so i’m putting it under a cut so you only have to read if you want! :’) 

tl;dr i did a reading for the deck/myself & my deck yelled at me bc i only listen when the meaning is spelled out in the absolute clearest and Loudest manner ghfdjgh rip :’)

i felt v strongly called to ask my deck if there was anything it needed to tell me after this session, i kind of thought it would be about the deck itself.. sometimes it doesnt like to do readings for people other than me & while it felt fine the entire time i was doing the session, i was worried that’s why i felt so called to ask afterwards

so the first card to drop is the tower and i take a minute to Not Freak Out before asking if there’s anything else i need to know, nothing.. or anything i need to do, and i get ten of pentacles reversed.. 

so i ask if the tower is about the deck, or me.. queen of wands drops, and it doesn’t feel like an obvious answer, so i ask again, nine of swords reversed drops.. and that card is (unfortunately) one that clearly represents me & my dependence on others :’)

i draw four more clarifying cards to get a better picture, and finally the top card & base card.. five of cups, eight of cups reversed, knight of pentacles reversed, king of pentacles reversed.. and then two of swords & temperance (which had popped up twice while cleansing my deck & i kinda brushed off.. whoops)

i’m not gonna get too much into the meaning of this reading, but basically it was telling me i need to take my own advice, and when i’m called to do these readings it’s usually because i need to hear the answer myself.... despite rarely doing the readings or myself :’)

and in fact a lot of the cards were ones i got in this session, and ones that when describing them i felt like “oh this is applicable for me too... too bad the reading isn’t mine” to which my deck promptly and clearly responded IT DOESN’T MATTER THE READING ISN’T FOR YOU, TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE

which ok, is v true.. a lot of times when i read for others, especially with this deck, i worry the reading is really directed at me bc it hits home so much :’) but then i hear from the querent that it resonated & i’m like ok cool! the reading wasn’t directed at me at all, i’m in the clear!

(this is actually a big part of the reason i’m so insistent about feedback, because despite my trust in my skill & ability i do still have a lot of doubt..)

but i do need to realize that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.. that the advice i give is often the advice i need to hear as well.. & it’s okay to hear something meant for others, and realize it’s also applicable to my life.. and just take the damn advice already!! gbfhjgb :’)

#op #look........ my skull is v thick & i share a single braincell with my best friend...... sometimes i truly do drink too much Dumb Bitch Juice #and it shows....................... bgdjhfgbd goodness tho i do love my deck for being so harsh w/ me.. sometimes i truly do need it!!!! #(by sometimes i mean mostly always rip)

[abelle25125]

wa

i was tagged by @gallusgalluss - (hi)

Nickname - Belle , Belski, B ect (my brother came up with most of them)

zodiac - Leo

Height - 150 cm (idk what that is in inches)

last movie i saw - the last movie i saw in cinemas was ant man and the wasp, but the last movie i watched was monty python and the holy grail (or maybe change your mind cos that might as well be a movie)

last thing i googled - “sero bnha” because my friend wanted to see what i meant by “tape dispenser elbows”

favorite musician: i have waay too many so imma just list a few- panic at the disco, Bo Burnham , my Chemical romance , wild party, AJR, cavetown, imagine dragons , the score, mother mother 

song stuck in my head - “pelicans we” by Cosmo Sheldrake because that’s a    b o p  

other blogs - i only have one and thats my art blog @skeleton-draws-skeleton-wars which i think is pretty noice

do i get asks - no but i would like some 

following - 103 amazing and talented people

followers - on this blog i only have 18 followers, but on my art blog i have 80, which i’m pretty chuffed about 

amount of sleep i get- what is this word you speak of? Sleep? never heard of it 

lucky number - 3! for literally no reason

what i’m wearing - my pajamas, which at this point consist of sweat pants, a deadpool t-shirt and the all mighty scarf of destiny

Dream Job - off i really want to be an animator, and then make my own tv show, but other than that maybe character designer or illustrator idk i just like art

Dream trip - im not too big on travelling because nearly everything i could ever want is at home, but i do want to go to comic con in america with some friends at one point in my life

favourite food - salt and vinegar crisps ,egg fried rice, most ice creams , and apples 

do i play any instruments - i used to play the piano, but my fingers were too fucked u so i had to stop, but i play the drums now, im currently doing my grade 4 . i also own a ukulele (because apparently every ;lesbian has to own one ) and an otamatone .

Languages- english only whoops - my french teacher told me i was struggling too much and that i shouldn’t keep doing it 

favourite songs (oh you’ve done it now)- “in the middle” by dodie, “LA devotee” by panic at the disco, “robert frost” by Mal Blum, “flamingo” by Kero Kero Bonito,” body” by mother mother ,”welcome to lady Hell” by Dirt Poor Robins “telephone wire” fun home , “ Teenagers” by MCR, “killer queen “ by Queen” , “Sunflower” by Post Malone feat Swae Lee and “time adventure “ by rebecca sugar (and thats not including movie soundtracks) 

random fact: one of my pinkie fingers is crooked meaning that it can never be straight (just like me lol) and it’s also longer than my other pinkie 

describe yourself in aesthetic things: dark nights with warm cups of tea and a single burning fireplace a tall anxious gremlin who wishes she was intimidating, while also wanting a l l t h e l o v e 

idk if anybody else would want to do it but ill tag... @ceccilpalmer @secret-lyfe-of-a-fan-girl @comradewaluigi and @virgil-in-a-necktie (if shes still alive)      

thanks for tagging me 

byye

#long post #my post #this was nice noby ever taggs me in these things #thanks gallus

[artificialqueens]

The Bullshit of Whiplash. (Bitney) - Zeezee.

Summary: Shane receives a drunken phone call from Roy and hears more than he ever expected. There’s no way he can pretend with his “friend” that he didn’t hear a private conversation, and so, with anxiety but a strange sense of hope, he confronts him. What comes is explosive and more than either of them anticipated. Sometimes people are complicated.

A/N: Based on a really old request - “A Bitney fiction/one shot where they drive for hours and it’s a warm night and they fall asleep on the ground watching the stars while talking about their life. (Even more bonus points if it’s after an argument that they fix)” Okay so I know it’s been months since this was requested , and I did start it when the person requested it but life got in the way, and for some reason I picked it up again recently and didn’t want to stop. It went somewhere I didn’t expect, but I hope y'all enjoy!! - Zeezee <333

(Also shout out to the wonderful Veronicasanders for being my first beta! Supportive through and through, especially when it comes down to the heated discussion that America doesn’t have burger vans and I have to remember middle aged Drag Queens don’t eat the same food this British 20 something graduate does. Thank you, V! My favourite bitney bitch.)

Words: 15252. (Whoops, my hand slipped.)

Shane had had a particularly stressful few days, but not begrudgingly. He’d been travelling all over L.A. doing gigs, filming videos, and recording new music. He couldn’t recall when the last time he’s sat down to relax was. Had it really been weeks since he’s kicked back with a glass of wine and one of his trash television shows? Was it before or after the phone conversation with his mother about the vegan recipe he emailed her? It must have been around the time he first started booking studio time after writing lyrics to a new song…

Whenever it was, it was overdue!

There wasn’t anything in the world that meant more to Shane than his work, and he would never trade his job for all the leisure and money in the world. However, to actually lay back on his couch, swirling a glass of wine in one hand and the other holding the back of his head…it was heavenly.

Shane never imagined he’d ever be this happy when he was a kid picturing his adult life - of course he never exactly envisioned himself dressed as a woman, performing in sweaty bars with drinks being spilled down his sequin dresses. He knew the limelight was his calling, the stage was his fate, but under a stage name wearing lace fronts was a delightful surprise. He use to worry nothing would ever come of his life, and those years stuck in limbo, hopping between retail jobs, was horrifying for someone as ambitious as he was.

All the worry was in the past now. Shane was wonderfully content. Lavish living, grand friendships, regular work and not a grey cloud had been seen in weeks, what more could he ask for?

He decided to spend his Friday night in the blissful company of a sweet vanilla candle, the soft tones of John Mayer’s acoustic set, and his tattered copy of The Great Gatsby. He hadn’t read the novel since he was 17 years old and studying it in school, and there was a constant yapping stuck at the back of his head to get around to rereading it. Why not finally give in after so long now he has the free time- there wasn’t anything else he wished to do right now.

At first it’s a little odd to be alone and free of actives. His glass of wine is sour in the right way, making his mind swim after a few sips, and that takes the edge of the abnormality of being able to do whatever he wants. Soon he’s wrapped up in the elegant language of his book, and the stress bruised under his skin begins to soothe and return to his normal beige.

About an hour later his phone starts to ring. Without any rush, he picks up the mobile and looks at the caller ID. It’s a picture of Roy from the last Christmas party, wearing a crudely knitted Rudolph jumper, eyes half open as he pretended to make out with a broom. Shane hadn’t seen Roy in months, and he truly misses his company. Some of his best memories came from the nights out he had with Roy - one of his all time favourites was when he, Roy and Danny were all together in Boston and got completely wasted in an alley bar. Afterwards they stumbled to the closest public park and lay on the grass with greasy slices of pizza in tissue, and they stayed there for hours talking about nothing in particular. Danny threw his crusts in the air and Roy cursed him out when it landed on his head. Shane gave the bench near by a lapdance while Roy and Danny sang ‘Baby Got Back’ out of tune. All of them were brought back to their younger days when getting drunk was the most exciting part of their plans.

“You know, I don’t say this often, but I love you. My little angel.” Roy teasingly drawled out, pinching Shane’s cheek. Danny had fallen asleep while wrapped up in Roy’s jumper, cheese and sauce smeared around his mouth as he snored. Shane and Roy sat watching the stars, knees touching and boundaries thrown out the window. They were usually mocking with their affection toward one another, but when Roy got drunk he was suddenly overwhelmed with love and admiration, and it was sweet to receive.

“You’re really laying it on thick tonight, pussyface.”

“I’ll show you thick.” Roy tried to say seductively, but burst out cackling, falling on his back holding his stomach as the laughter racked through him. Shane shook his head, watching his friend find himself so amusing.

“Come on, we better wake sleeping beauty and get ourselves back to the hotel.” He pushed himself up and reached his arm out for Roy. The older man took it with a grateful smile, but to his surprise tugged Shane down to land on top of him. He began cackling again, holding Shane close, and then Shane found the amusement of the situation and laughed along with him. He may have stayed on top of Roy for longer than either expected, but his warmth was endearing and comfortable; he wanted to stay in that moment forever.

“You know, I’ve never really noticed but…you have really nice eyes.” Roy complemented, stroking Shane’s back.

“Oh. Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  

Shane smiles to himself as he recalls the memory, seeing Roy’s picture on his phone is like a blessing in disguise. He misses him terribly, truthfully, and with a playful smirk, Shane answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Haaaaaaaaay, cumbiscuit! My favourite asshole in the whole world!”

The sounds over the phone pound with bass, making Shane wince at first, accompanied by galvanised screams and familiar taunting voices around Roy’s. Shane could tell instantly by the way his friend’s tone droned out, flatter in pitch and more nasally than usual, that he was drunk. Approximately 3 fireballs and two double vodkas in drunk.

Shane laughs. “You having a good time, pussyface?”

“You bet your sweet ass! Your horny self would be creaming all over the place if you were here! There was just a guy on stage with sleeve tattoos and calve muscles bigger than your head. Very your type.” The sound of his eyebrows bouncing could practically be heard in the teasing allure of his tone.

Shane frowns, confused. “Where exactly are you?”

“We’re in Montreal, in a-”

“In a strip club, bitch! The guys here are so hot! Twink heaven for sure, even the overgrown ones like yourself.”

Shane hears clashing as Roy snatches his phone back from Detox, shouting at him in a quick rage before composing himself as he returns to the phone. “Sorry about that. Everyone’s drunk.”

“Including you?”

“Obviously, why the fuck would I stay sober?”

“Maybe because getting blackout drunk isn’t cool or exciting after the age of 25.”

“Fuck you.”

Shane laughs, picking up his wine glass and leaning against the wall nearest. Hearing Roy’s voice did something to him he couldn’t completely explain - a small twinge of melancholy, caught up in everything else that’s so much heavier. He doesn’t have time to acknowledge the feeling because he’s always busy, there’s no time to evaluate something as minuscule as what it is he feels for his best friend. It’s probably just the fact he misses him so much. Roy always knows exactly what to say when Shane was most down, and he always knows how to make Shane laugh. Roy just knows instinctively how to make Shane feel good with the simplest gestures.

Shane takes a sip of his wine and hums. “So, a strip club aye? You hoping to get lucky? Let me guess.” He smirks, pointing a finger forward as if Roy can see him. “Shorter than you so you don’t feel inadequate, muscled arms, short blonde hair, and a great rear end? No- a perfect rear end. That’s the Roy Haylock check list, right?” Shane snickers smugly. “You’re too predictable.”

“Again, fuck you! I am not predictable, and that is not my type!”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is.”

“No it fucking isn’t!” Roy laughs. The music was still heavy in the background, and Shane could hear the familiar voices around the table teasing Roy for being on the phone. It was a little peculiar that he would call Shane in the middle of a night out. “Hold up, I just want to get somewhere quieter, stay there!”

Shane listens to the shuffling static on the other end and the few times Roy shouts “excuse me!” as he marched through the presumably busy room. Soon it’s quiet and all he hears is Roy breathing.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Roy says, laughing under his breath before grunting. “I’m so drunk- shit. You don’t feel it till you’re outside.”

Shane has always been amused by drunk Roy - he’s a lot more open and free spirited. He walks across his living room into his kitchen, putting the wine glass on the counter and leaning on the surface to watch out his window. “You’re such a mess.”

“Neither of us are clean queens, bitch. I know what you’re like drunk so this is strictly a judgement free zone, got it?” Roy warns, going on before Shane could interject. “When was the last time I saw you? It’s been way too long, right? So fucking long. Was…was it when we went to the alley bar in L.A with Darienne? And oh my God, he took home those two 20 something year olds! HA! He left us, a couple of losers to lick our wounds. What an asshole. But, that was it, yeah? That was when I last saw you?”

Shane smiles. “Yeah. Well I saw you the next morning when you woke up hungover and almost naked in my bed- if you want to get technical.”

There’s a pause, then a cough. “Mmm. But I can’t believe it’s been such a long time. I miss you, my little angel. Feels like I’ve lost an arm being away from you this long.”

Shane can’t help the eruption of a laugh that let loose. “Okay, I’m cutting you off- you’re way too drunk for your own good!”

But his laughter doesn’t interrupt Roy’s train of thought. “You’re such a great guy, Shane. As much as you can be a cunt, you’re so good deep down- real good. I need to see you soon, I need to laugh with you.” He chuckles - Shane swears he can hear Roy falling against a wall or something. “You know Valentina stole my fucking white liner! I bet- she fucking wore a lot of white at our gig last night and magically mine has disappeared. Or, maybe I lost it, I don’t know. Detox has been all over it, saying she’s trying to steal my look, trying to take my gigs. Alyssa too, prancing about the place, pretending to stone everything…” there’s a long exhale of breath. “I miss you. You’d love it here, it’s a great fucking laugh.“

Shane’s stomach curls in on itself ever so slightly to make him groan, quiet enough Roy didn’t hear. “When you back in L.A? We’ll do something. There’s a new vegan dessert place that just opened up a few streets down from my place.”

There’s a mess of static movement, then the familiar bass pounding through the background of Roy’s humming. “Two weeks- no, less than two weeks and I’m back. Clear your schedule, we’ll do a whole shebang! Watch some crappy movies, go to this vegan place you’ll probably beg me to try out, it’ll be great!” He hears scraping against wood and more voices cheering. “Listen, I’ll let you go but text me tomorrow morning. Remind me, and we’ll plan it!”

Shane smiles. “Sure. Have a good night, Roy.” He says, picking up his wine glass again.

“I’ll think of you as I’m shoving dollars down a strippers pants.” He laughs and sets the phone down.

Shane was about to hang up and get back to his evening read when he heard muffled laughter still coming from the speaker, and then a faint high pitched voice ringing through the assortments of sounds. Shane held the phone back up to his ear, realising his friend hadn’t hung up. He laughs, ready to hit end when he heard the indisputable voice of Detox:

“You’re a sucker for that guy, I swear.”

And as quick as a flash, he was hooked on the conversation, needing to assure whether “that guy” was himself or the possibility it was was a young, naive stripper that had captured Roy’s attention solely. Either was as unlikely to be the right answer.

“What the fuck you talking about?” He hears Roy slur, not quite angry but not quite amused.

“You, and those big heart eyes you have whenever you talk to Courtney. Are you ever going to admit it?”

Shane’s heart was suddenly in his throat, his eyes wide. He put his wine glass back down and listens closely, wondering if he’d stumbled into a lucid dream.

“Admit what? There’s nothing to admit to.” Roy laughs- that boisterous, overly masculine laugh that differs from the dolphin like sound. Shane holds the phone closer to his ear, as if he can fall through the speaker and land in front of the other man, listen more attentively. He doesn’t realise he’s been holding a breath in the whole time eavesdropping.

“You have the biggest crush on him, Roy. It’s painfully obvious.” Shane thinks it’s Alyssa that speaks.

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Silence, then a glass slamming on the table. “I talk to him the same way I talk to any of you, and trust, I’m not looking to stick my dick in any of you pigs.”

“Sure you do.” Detox coughs. “I’ll think of you as I’m shoving dollars down a strippers pants- Oh cum biscuit- Miss you, cum biscuit!” The sound of mocking kissing noises, then laughter. “The sooner you face it, the easier it’ll be to get over it.”

Shane’s not sure what to think. He’s half praying for more denial, but there’s a twinge in his chest that’s hanging onto hope, like he could stand the very notion with so much distance between them, and so much intimacy already to sieve through. His breaths get heavier, harder to swallow, and his eyes grow frighteningly large. Shane’s not afraid of complications, but he’s afraid of someone like Roy. Those who clung to their personas, and ran when life got too real.

The conversation seems to have fallen quiet, then there’s a barely audible sigh. “It’s not like I can really admit to that shit though, let’s be honest. Maybe I feel something for Court, but we’re friends.”

Shane thinks his heart might implode.

“Friends can fuck.” Shea says; people clink their drinks in agreement.

“I don’t fuck where I eat. Too messy.”

“But you admit you want to fuck Courtney?” Shane can’t quite tell who it was that time. Probably Detox.

“Fine, yeah, I’d fuck Courtney. You happy?” A round of cheers before it settles again. “Whatever. I’m never going to tell him how I feel. It’s like having the flu, just gotta ride it out.”

“Haven’t you been trying to ride it out forever?” Detox teases. Shane hears Roy groan.

“You know what they say, B. Longer than 6 months means you’re in love!” Alyssa drawls out, drawing everyone else to laugh.

Shane yelps, hanging up abruptly before he can be sucked into a truth he’s not ready to face yet. Not when he’s so alone, with a glass of wine. Although as soon as he’s off the phone, and the room plummets into a dark silence that echoes his frantic heartbeat, he realises that it’s little too late. Shane knows something he was never supposed to, sinking under his skin and burning holes through his bones, weakening him.

How long? Since when? Why him? What now? Shane’s brain races a thousand miles an hour as he tries to come up with the answers he didn’t know he had. All of a sudden, things were so different. He couldn’t comprehend how with so much space between them and time to waste, Shane and Roy were now two different people to each other, and Roy was none the wiser to the shift. Behind the lock screen of Shane’s phone, Roy still loves on, drunk in a strip club with their friends, clueless to the skittish thundering of Shane’s heart. His best friend, the seams of their relationship straining to break free-

Shane falls against the kitchen door frame.

“Fuck.”

That was all he could say. A thousand thoughts whittled down to a single curse.

His home suddenly felt tainted. The words echoing between the walls, the underlying emotions still left a mystery screaming like unruly ghosts. The truth was Shane didn’t care about a friend liking him, and someone like Roy, it could be a whole lot worse, but if he knew the older man like he did than that meant the whole ordeal was going to be a trip. Someone like Danny would be easy, they could make out and maybe even sleep together and Danny would bore of him and they’d fall back into their friendship. Willam would skip all pleasantries, they’d fuck out of frustration and then go back to normal after a fortnight of bitchy texts. Almost all of his friends were pretty liberal and sexually free that awkward crushes were as normal as eating breakfast- but then there was Roy. The man with so many hang ups and defence mechanisms it was like talking to a robot sometimes. Roy, who only went home with strangers from bars when he was on his own and never in front of Shane, but of course he had a type. He who never had a boyfriend, only hookups, and a million secrets.

Well…there was that one guy. The model, what was his name? Shane only met him once, and now that he thinks about it Roy had seemed more interested in him than his actual boyfriend.

He needs support. The more he thought, the more his headache came forward. He calls the one person who could help.

“Booty call central. You stock it, I’ll suck it.”

“Hello Willam.” Shane couldn’t laugh, not this time.

“There’s only two reasons people call this late, and that hello was not the hello for fucking.” Willam clicks his tongue. “Not that I’d fuck you anyway. So, who died? Oh God please don’t be a parent, I’m not good with that shit.”

“Willam, if my mother died, I wouldn’t call you first.”

Willam fakes a hurt gasp. “Why not?!”

“You just said yourself you’re not good with that stuff.”

“I said shit, not stuff.”

“Okay, off topic. No one’s dead, Willam.” Shane rubs his eyes, looking back at the wine glass on the counter. He needs something much stronger now. “I just found out something I shouldn’t have, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What was it?”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Shane warns, eyes piercing as if he can see Willam in front of him; arms crossed and expression over it.

“I’m not making that promise.” Willam laughs, making Shane grit his teeth in frustration (maybe not the one person who could help after all).

“Willam, seriously-“

“On a scale of you being pregnant to you being Trump in disguise, how secret is this, really?”

Shane looks at the phone quizzically. “What? I don’t know…as secretive as Trump fucking a clown would be.”

“Oh, so this is about Bianca.”

Shane’s heart drops. “How did you guess from just that?”

Willam scoffs. “Code word: Clown. Come on then, spill. What’s Count Grumpula done now? Stuck a white liner up your ass and called it a night?”

He rolls his eyes at the childish laugh on the other end of the phone, then sighs. “Roy’s in love with me.”

“WHAT?!” The laughter gets louder, it sounds like Willam might pass out. Shane wishes he could find the amusement in the situation.

“Okay, maybe not in love, but he likes me. He has a crush on me, or whatever you say when you’ve passed the age of 12! I heard him talking to- Willam, will you stop laughing!” There’s a few more wheezes, then the supportive words of encouragement for Shane to continue. “I heard him talking to Detox and Alyssa and whoever else, and he said he can never tell me he likes me. He said he’d fuck me. What the hell do I do with that piece of information?!”

“I dunno. Fuck him?”

“You’re the only other person I know as emotionally unavailable as he is, and even then you’re not good enough.” Willam gasps again, Shane ignores it. “What do I do? Should I confront him?”

“At his age, I’d be scared you’ll give him a heart attack. But I mean, what else can you do? The cats out the bag now- Bitchy Del Rio got caught in the act.” If an eye roll was audible, Shane’s would be deafening. “Your best bet is to offer him a blow job of condolence, and then never bring it up again. Bianca is too much of a professional to ever let a friendship become more than just that, especially you. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade your cunty ass in for anything, but you’re all feelings and talking, and Bianca…isn’t.” Willam’s bluntness stings Shane slightly, he feels a faint watering festering behind his eyes. He wills them back, biting the inside of his cheek as Willam went on. “But, you’re you. I could tell you anything and all you’d hear is ‘talk to him, talk to him’ so I guess my advice is, talk to him. Just say you know he wants to eat out your ass and you’re cool with it.”

“Willam, why take it there?” Shane says, this time laughing, finally.

There was the sound of jingling pots on Willam’s end of the phone. “Here’s a question. Are you cool with it? Would you let Bianca fuck you?”

In Shane’s head, the question was less ambiguous of emotion: Are you into Bianca too? He thinks about it for a second, the static of the phone and Willam obviously now talking to someone on the other end as the only background sound, and it really didn’t bother him. Full disclosure, Shane thought Roy was incredibly attractive when they were together filming Drag Race, and he had hoped they might hook up just once, but as time went on the fantasy became less and less shiny and soon was another rusted idea, left to collect dust but never thrown away. Roy was still attractive, and he was one of the funniest people Shane had ever met, so maybe the answer was yes, in a weird round about way that could only come up if thrust upon first. If Roy was to kiss Shane, he wouldn’t be repulsed; he’d probably be a little sheepish and filled to the brim with butterflies.  

Shane exhales through his nose loudly. “I’ve got to talk to Bianca.”

Willam hums, uninterested. “If it was meant to be, it’ll be. Don’t call me crying when it goes belly up though, call Alaska.” With that, Willam hangs up. Shane knows that’s his way of caring, directing him to the person who’s emotionally capable of listening to raw feelings, and that’s fine. Willam is the type to be honest, and echo the thoughts a person would rather pretend don’t exist in their head.

Shane’s arms fall to his side, and his body slides down the frame of the door till his bum hits the floor. He sits there, thinking, head dropped back as if he can play the scenario in his head on his ceiling. He had to confront Roy - of course he did, there’s no way he could go on with this secret, but he had little faith in his friend being calm enough to have a mature conversation.

Less than two weeks, that’s all. Shane could wait. It gave him time to write a perfect script for the confrontation; even enough time to write Roy’s lines.

-

Shane’s dreams become infested with Roy’s image. It’s not that they’re profound or sexual, he’s just there. Sometimes a main character, sometimes just in the background. It leaves Shane a little breathless when he wakes up.

Roy’s texting as if nothing’s changed, because for him it hasn’t. Shane replies as if nothing’s changed, just to maintain normality.

With every passing day, Shane feels more and more nauseous. He doesn’t know how he’s going to confront him.

-

Roy almost threatens Detox to keep his lips sealed about their little conversation. He laughs, and Roy worries it means his shameful secret is about to become news to everyone, but Detox assures him they’d all agreed what happens Montreal, stays in Montreal.

He’s never telling him the truth. Never ever. His feelings will die with him, and maybe Shane will find out after he’s long gone, but that’s okay. Less aggravation for Roy. Montreal is the closest to genuine Roy ever plans to be about his feelings for his friend.

-

Willam: AAA gig in San Diego next week. Bianca’s on the line up. U fucked yet?

Courtney: Still away. We’re not going to fuck.

Willam: Alaska agrees you should fuck.

Courtney: I told you not to tell anyone!

Willam: She’s been rooting for you two to get together since day 1. Don’t make her cry.

Courtney: Why did you tell her!

Willam: I told you I wasn’t promising. But fine, I won’t tell anyone else. I promise.

Courtney: You’re an asshole.

Willam: Can’t argue there.

-

Bianca: SAN DIEGO GIG. DO YOU WANT TO TRAVEL DOWN TOGETHER?

Bianca: Sorry, caps.

Courtney: Not getting Mr Del Rio to personally escort you? ;)

Bianca: I’M NOT FUCKING MY ASSISTANT, STOP CALLING HIM THAT!

Bianca: I meant for caps that time.

Bianca: I get back the day before. We can get dinner before driving down. I was thinking of arriving early morning so it’ll be a late drive.

Courtney: I have a new vegan recipe I’d like to try. Come over to mine instead, then we can go!

Bianca: Being vegetarian doesn’t mean I like vegan food.

Courtney: I thought you liked my cooking :O

Bianca: I tolerate it. 6PM I’ll be over. We leave no later than 8PM.

-

Roy had been sitting in Shane’s kitchen for about 10 minutes now. When Shane had answered the door, he felt a weird anxiety twist through the bones of his rib cage like a snake, and it was as if Roy had been away at war for years how Shane was sickly relieved to see him. The wise old eyes as normal as they always were, not any more or any less fond of Shane, and the smirk stitched to his face, the seams scarred, his dimples sharp like glass. His lips were more plump than the last time they’d seen each other, Shane couldn’t help snicker.

“You’ve been hanging around Detox too much.” Shane teased, tapping his own bottom lip.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They hugged, for good measure. Roy’s arms like tree trunks around his body, he felt secure in his hold, all the frivolous thoughts that had been causing him such anxiety suddenly gone. For Roy, it was just another hug on another day, but Shane had been counting down the seconds until they were next meeting, needing closure on the truth Roy had no idea had been revealed. He was real, not just a voice over the phone or an image in a dream- Roy was a physical body with a working heart, and arms that kept Shane from falling, and he felt happy.

Shane stirred the pot of steamed vegetables. Roy made fun of him. They ate together and didn’t talk about the line between them that they tiptoed around, staying on their separate sides. Roy laughed at something Shane said, and vise versa. Why couldn’t it stay like this forever?

Because Shane was horrible with keeping things in and pretending there wasn’t an elephant in the room.

“I haven’t exactly got a strippers body.” Roy says in response to Shane’s comment about Montreal. He’d seen the video of all of them on stage, where Bianca strutted down the stage and barely touched the stripper pole. Shea was all over the metal like it was lathered in strawberry lube or something, but Roy would never dare be that provocative. “Or face. Or anything. I’m the guy at the bar you talk to after trying to fuck the stripper, grabbing the first top you see.”

“You say that,” Shane takes another bite, chewing loudly, not noticing how Roy scowled. “But you’re pretty flexible. You keep it under lock and key but I saw you doing that gymnasts class with Violet.” He swallows, pointing his knife at Roy, sly smile as if he’s caught his friend in a lie; the unimportant lie compared to what’s to come. “Bet those moves come in handy in bed.”

Shane takes note of how Roy shifts slightly, stuck for a reply longer than what was normal for him. Not the kind of statement he should be throwing around at the guy who has a thing for him and maybe that’s alright, Shane hasn’t decided yet-

“The bartender I picked up in Montreal didn’t seem to mind, sure.” Roy replies, winking. He took the last bite of his food then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Nice work chef.” He stands up, taking his plate to the sink to wash up - like they were already living a domestic life and this was their house, and washing dishes was their little way of saying ’I love you’ after a long day. Shane lets him take his plate, stuck on his remark.

“A bartender?” Shane repeats. The blush that slithers up his neck makes him twitch, holding the hot skin. The night Shane had spent awake until the exhaustion kidnapped him, Roy was fucking someone. He holds a calm demeanor. “Was he typical blo-“

“No, he wasn’t fucking blonde. He was taller than me, he had two stick arms covered in tattoos, but he did have a great ass so I’ll give you that one.” Roy turns off the tap, drying his hands on his side. “And that’s all I’m telling you.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t just drop a bomb like that and leave me in the dark.” Shane’s eyes follow Roy as he sits back down, then he rests his head in his hands, smiling like a giddy kid. “How was he?”

Usually Roy would stay coy unless under the influence, but he feels a little dangerous tonight, like flaunting a good time to Shane wasn’t the end of the world, and might in fact help him build himself up. He raises an eyebrow and laughs under his breath. “He talked a lot and came too fast, but he knew how to ride a dick so what else mattered. It was one of those nights where it didn’t really matter who it was. I just needed someone.”

Shane’s eyes widen and he tries to play it cool. He straightens in his chair. “Why? Didn’t you have a good time in Montreal?”

Roy shrugs, still smiling. “Same old shit just a different day.” His eyes fall, dragging his finger along the table edge. “It was fun, sure. The same why getting drunk with sloppy, horny queens is always fun, but it just…I had stuff on my mind I guess. Sex always settles the waters, so I got laid and the rest is history.”

Shane swallows the lump in his throat. He feels like he’s against his doorway again, sliding down to the floor, feeling pity for himself. He can still hear Roy’s voice like static whistling through his empty house, bouncing from wall to wall, haunting him. Now he’s here, with the reality of his anxieties in its physical form; the same pointed face with humble brown eyes; he imagines that face distorted with pain, hair tousled and lips swollen after intense sex, waiting to fall asleep with thoughts of Shane. Does Roy fall asleep thinking about Shane? When he was with other men, their bodies soaked in sweat and the sheets stuck to their skin they throw them off the bed for a breeze, does his heart hurt for Shane instead of whatever stranger? Maybe it was narcissistic for Shane to think he was that significant, but he would have never imagined it before he’d found out the truth.

He had to hear it, as a confession.

Shane reaches his hand across the table, touching Roy’s fingers and creating a comfort he needs for himself let alone the other man.

“You can tell me. Whatever’s on your mind, I’ll never judge you.” Shane says, his fingers delicately stroking along the cracks of Roy’s knuckles. They’re a little bruised and battered, but he doesn’t bother asking, both out of fear it’s to do with him or it’s even worse. Roy’s eyes look down at the action, and he holds a breath for a second, before yanking his hand away and rolling his eyes.

“Stop being a dick, I’m fine.”

The subject is dropped. Roy goes on about his wonderful adventures in Montreal and Shane pretends he’s not annoyed hearing about it - the place that was the setting for the destruction of normality. The bartender. The guy Detox was trying to blow. The overcompensating ‘straight guy’. Shane had to hear about them all, and he was beginning to wonder if whatever the feelings were Roy was having were starting to get stronger, hence why he was having more casual sex and indulging him in the details for the first time ever. A good friend wouldn’t have felt jealous, but how could Shane not when there was so much now lying between them.

Before leaving, Roy rooted through Shane’s wardrobe and picked his drag apart piece by piece. Either too trashy or too classy, and Shane would reply with laughter and a middle finger. Roy tried on Shane’s wigs, doing his best Australian accent and twirling around the room, just to get a cheap laugh from his friend, who was fallen spread across the bed in fits of laughter, cursing under his breath all the same. Nothing was different, it was still light and breezy between them- yet Shane couldn’t look at Roy without wondering if he was in pain, or if he was seething with unspoken words left to settle in the dust, and it was driving Shane insane let alone the person who actually felt everything.

Although, how was Shane supposed to pretend he didn’t feel anything for Roy? Of course he did. It was subtle, and more of a distant thought that would need some time to blossom, but it was there. Those short bursts of breath caught on the edge of his tongue when Roy was shirtless, or the sweet sighs of relief after too much laughter together, or the cramping of his heart when they’d been apart for too long. In the most obvious sense, Shane had always had a thing for Roy, but he was so used to bursts of admiration and accepting love that came and went, he never paid any attention to what was right under his nose. Not really anyway, not enough that he ever thought past hooking up and into the realms of a relationship.

They’d probably work out too, if Roy was good with accepting emotions as wonderful and not scary. Shane would keep the level head, Roy would keep them organised, and they’d stay like best friends with all the extra parts that made being human so extraordinary.

However, watching Roy toss the long strands of blonde hair over his shoulder, Shane feels sick again. Lost in the confliction, he needs something to tide over the crashing waves of his stomach.

“Roy, I need to tell you something-”

“Shit!” Roy looks at his phone, before shoving it back into his pocket and pushing Shane slightly as he ran out the room. “It’s almost 8! Fuck, where did the time go?! Come on, asshole, get your shit in my car and let’s get the fuck out of here!”

Shane listens to him gallop down the stairs and run out the door, and when the house was bare, he grunts in annoyance, falling on his back.

-

The evening was setting in. The stars had began to appear in the navy sky, twinkling brighter the further out of the city they drove. Shane rests his head on the window, the cold of the glass and the soft hum of the music brushing by him like drizzly rain, it’s okay. A contrast to the tensing of his chest and the looping of his thoughts, as Roy drives steady down the road.

When Shane was a kid he used to love star gazing in Australia. The American sky has nothing on the outback, that was for sure. Shane can still remember the lucid blues dipping into one another, the black fawning over, and the stars would burst through like there was an urgency to be seen. So many nights he would lay on the warm sandy ground, hands behind his head as he stared up at the breathtaking view, and he’d wish for all the opportunities to bless him. Sun kissed skin caressed by the first breeze of the day, he’d smile every time, like it was the first and last time he’d felt wind. Staring out the window now was less tranquil and more agitating, as if those same stars that once gave him comfort had seen the true, ugly colours of his sinful adulthood. The lies, the tears, and everything that made Shane worry.

American air was stiffer, and the stars were duller- Shane felt like he was about to implode, and Roy still had no fucking clue.

“My mom called the other day asking if I’ve been eating right.” Roy says, breaking the silence. Shane lifts his head to listen more intently. “It’s like I’m not a fucking adult and I’m still the 20 something disaster starving himself in favour of vodka and cable TV.”

“You had your priorities.”

“We can’t all be Mr Tiny Tot, some of us had to work two jobs on 3 hours sleep just to make ends meet!” Roy laughs, winking at Shane before sighing. “Remember when we were 20 though? It was like someone threw a huge hunk of beef into the lion’s cage- every gay for himself! As soon as I was out of my parents house and had my own place…I didn’t sleep alone until I was like 25.”

Shane raises an eyebrow. “You, a regular sleepover host?” He huffs out an exaggerated laugh, smirking wickedly when Roy flips him off. “What happened to that Roy, aye? Aw, were you a little spoon in your 20s?” The very idea of Roy curled up to someone, defenceless to the affection of someone else wanting him, it was amusing yet warming.

But there’s a quiet that settles dark over them. Roy shuffles in his seat, smile untraceable, and then he coughs. “I grew up. Whatever. My 30s were better. I had money, I had dogs, what the fuck else did I need?” The smile returns and Shane relaxes along with Roy.

There’s no point prolonging the inevitable. The repeating anxiety that wavers in every tense silence, every forced conversation was pushing Shane further and further off the edge.

“Roy, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s important.” he says, quiet. Roy looks over at him suspiciously, before shrugging and taking a turn.

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s not easy.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in forever and you want a serious chat? Okay, fun, lay it on me.”

Shane curses himself, because soon Roy’s going to be angry and the mood will be awkward, but he can’t go on pretending he doesn’t know.

“Roy…I know the truth. I know how you feel about me.”

He thinks for a second he imagined saying it by the way Roy doesn’t react. He stares at his friend, face blank, eyes clear, nothing strict on his pointed face. Then a chuckle.

“You know I think you’re an asshole? Yeah, that’s not new news.” he jokes.

“No, Roy. I heard you, on the phone in Montreal.” He pauses, watching for any reaction: just his brows falling. “I know you…like me. I also know the last thing you’d want is to talk about it but I need to know, from you. How do you feel about me, Roy?”

The older man stays quiet, processing the confrontation. The cogs in his head furiously spinning, going into overdrive and the smoke begins to pour from his ears as a weird feelings starts to overwhelm him. Anger, so normal, but there’s fear and panic, and his palms are suddenly sweaty as it becomes apparent his dirty little secret is no longer a secret. He tries to take a relaxing breath, laugh it off, but Shane is deadly serious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shane,” he replies, voice a little tighter but still firm. Shane sees through him like glass, and keeps watching him, studying him.

“I heard you with Detox and Alyssa and everyone. I already know. I just think we should talk about it because…well, now I know, there’s no going back to before I knew.”

“You’ve obviously dreamt this or-”

“Don’t try and convince me I’m crazy or something, I know what I heard. I’m not trying to embarrass you. We’re friends, I just want us to have an honest, healthy conversation about our feelings for once.” Roy scoffs, but Shane ignores the clear distaste. “I haven’t seen you in a really long time. I missed you like crazy, and after I heard what you said…I started thinking.”

“Please stop.”

“I’m mean hey, it’s not exactly crazy, we do get on like a house on fire! And I can’t pretend the idea of us hasn’t crossed my mind.”

“Jesus- seriously, stop.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Why? Look, it’s just a conversation. There’s nothing wrong with actually having feelings and wanting to be with someone-”

“E-fucking-nough!” Roy yelled, slamming his hand down on the leather of the steering wheel, making Shane jump and widen his eyes in shock. They fall painfully quiet, and the only sound his Roy’s breathing, quick and brash, full of annoyance and urgency to escape.

Shane didn’t think it was possible for someone like Roy to have a panic attack- he seemed untouchable to the real, raw emotions everyone else showed, the good, the bad, and the ugly. He watches Roy’s face frozen over while his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, caught on fire, shards of glass exploding as the electricity expands. His jaw tenses, his nose flared, his chest high like a proud bird- this was a Roy no one had ever seen.

Terrified.

Still angry, that was normal, but all the same, there was terror in the mix.

Shane was suddenly scared to be in the car with him, his hands stuck to the steering wheel, like he could drive off a cliff’s edge at a whims notice if it pleased him so. He watches his friend, flicking through words to string together a coherent lullaby to calm him down.

“Roy, it’s fine,” he starts, tugging his seat belt to check it’s definitely locked. “I don’t care. These things, they’re a part of life! I just felt wrong pretending I didn’t know, and I wanted to apologise I’d overheard. It’s not as if I want to end our friendship over something so trivial.” He tries to give him a comforting smile, but Roy’s breathing picked up as he continued to stare intensely onward. He looks somewhere between murderous and dying. Shane would normally open the doors of affection, set his hand on his knee, stroke his back, something that would settle all anxieties, but this was the man that locked those doors and threw away the key. Shane held back his hand, like Roy might bite it off, and kept talking. “You don’t need to worry. Really, I’m flattered if anything!” he laughs; it doesn’t loosen the tension. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Roy…It’s okay.”

Abruptly, Roy takes a sharp turn down a dark road off the main junction, Shane shifting in his seat as the force of the metal takes strength. Roy grits his teeth, muttering nonsense between short bursts of breath, racing down the pitch black. Shane grabs the ceiling handle and holds on tight, yelling at his friend to slow down, but it’s all white noise. All Roy can hear is the drumming of his heart and the echoes that mock:

I know the truth. I know how you feel about me.

It’s okay.

He skids slightly, not flinching when Shane grabs his arm and screams. He pulls over, car bucking as it mates the curb, and he barely even checks the cars off before hurtling out of it, almost being dragged back by his seatbelt. He scrambles up the dirt path, breathing erratic like he’s in danger of losing it, his legs turning jelly the higher the climb. There’s a grassy hill - he sprints for it, everything in him pounding and crying, he thinks he could drop dead from the lack of control.

Shane grabs the car keys and locks it up, running after Roy. The wind rushes past, burns his skin with a breeze, blistering his pale complexion; the weather sending them down a turmoil of disillusion, like it was all a game; as if anyone could control anything around them. His calves burn as the hill lifts, begging him to stop. There’s not a breath of hope he’ll cease at how fast Roy is running. He watches the older man reach the top and then fall to his knees, and Shane stops. His feet run out of energy and he awaits, the space between them looming the longer Roy kneels, silent.

Then, a loud, gravelly yell breaks the navy sky, and the stars pour upon their souls out of shame and pity.

“FUUUUUUUUCK!” Roy shouts, his voice echoing off into the distance. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCKING FUCK!” He repeats, like the curse could send him back in time. His face drops into his hands, scowling as he breathes heavily through his teeth. Shane watches, standing in the middle of the unknown field, half irritated and half empathetic toward the older man’s obvious fear of real human connection. It didn’t take a lot to see him angry- or, whatever this may have been- but this wasn’t the time he expected the usual.

I’m different. Shane thought, crossing his arms as his own anger rose. I’m different, I’m his friend- one of his best friends. I get him. I know him. I would never hurt him, never.

The night is hauntingly black, and the stars are fickle. Shane can feel the colours fade from his cheeks as the cold waves by, but he doesn’t do anything to warm up. He stays still, watching the older man melt down in the distance, thinking. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, it’s a part of life, developing feelings for a close friend. It’s happened to Shane a million times- he’s not even remotely disgusted or awkward about the fact Roy thinks he’s attractive. If anything, he’s a little too delighted. He couldn’t even bare the idea of ditching Roy over something so unimportant. Why is he overreacting like this?

Shane finally storms over to him after too long of watching the temper tantrum. He lifts him to his feet and grabs Roy by the shoulders shaking him. “Calm the hell down, you’re in your 40s for God’s sake!” He pushes him back, not too hard but enough force to make his friend stumble. They stare at each other, unable to register the others thoughts by their face. “Why are you freaking out so much? It’s not that big a deal.”

“It fucking is to me, asshole!”

“Why?”

“I’m no good at relationships, Shane! I’ve fucked up every single one I’ve been in.” He crosses his arms, looking away, as if looking for too long into Shane’s eyes may cause him to combust, burn down to nothing but the ashes of his affection. “I don’t want to fuck up with you. You’re one of my best friends.”

Shane inches closer. “You don’t know you’ll fuck up. You can’t avoid things in life because you’re scared.” He lifts his smile, trying to catch the other man’s eye, let him know with more than words he’s in safe hands- but rather holds back a curse when the stubborn bastard resists eye contact further. “Just tell me the truth, Roy. I want to hear it from you.”

Roy grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose. The wind picks up, brushing through the overgrown tufts of his hair. Shane watches him, feeling like he may fall off the edge of their crumbling cliff if he didn’t say something: anything! In all the time he’s known Roy, he’s never seen the man in such a flustered silence before.

“What do you want me to say, hm?” Roy barks. “Let’s get married, have a couple of kids and live happily ever after? Is that what you want?”

“No, but I-“

“You what?!” Roy’s glare feels like flame throwers. “This isn’t what I want, Shane! For fucks sake, I don’t want to tell you shit!” He laughs sinisterly. “I’m fine on my own. I’ve got my dogs, I’ve got all my teeth, I don’t need anything more. I don’t need you.”

The walls are starting to go up. Shane needs to think fast, before the bricks are too high and they’re on separate sides of a conversation, yelling into the oblivion.

“Okay.” Shane says, a tone of affirmation. He straightens up and frowns, his smile never breaking. “You don’t need me, fine. I don’t need you either, but maybe I like you being around. That’s allowed, you know. What, you think I need you, like I’d need medicine or something? You think I’d need a closed off cunt like you, really?!” Shane squares up to Roy, and his lips finally falter, straightening into something else- as closed off as Roy is, as cold as the weather is. It makes the older man stiffen slightly. “You’re against opening up but I bet you’re fine with a blowjob. What’s a blowjob between two friends, aye? Sex isn’t important, as long as we don’t talk about it-“

“Get over yourself.”

“No!” Shane shouts. The air turns bitter. “Get over yourself. Come on, Roy,” a smirk reappears, “I know you. Take home a guy, a Tom or a Chris, as long as he’s all over you, and you forget how to be human. Fuck him, get a gig, rinse repeat! You’ll never need a relationship if you satisfy your dick, and you’ll never need to face your feelings if you keep busy- keep running!” Before he could even stop himself, Shane shoves Roy backward. “I heard you, Roy. I know what’s going on in that head of yours.” He shoves him again, this time getting a reaction from Roy slapping his hands away. “Let’s just do what everyone does. What you do, get it out our system’s, fuck away the pain and feelings till we’re empty shells.” Shane links his fingers through Roy’s belt loops, frantically toying with the belt buckle as opposing hands fought him. “Nothing real, just full blown sex.”

“Stop!” Roy grabs Shane by the wrists and holds them up high. He’s practically seething with fury, nails digging into the taunt white of Shane’s skin, but he looks hurt - Shane can see the anguish in his dark eyes. “For once, can’t you not be a slut?”

It’s like acid. Shane can only laugh. “For once, can’t you be human?”

They stand like that for too many seconds, feeling like haunting hours, his grip loosening but never releasing. Everything felt other-worldly, as if they’d been taken over or they’d died, watching a version of themselves that bubbled with a vengeful rage. Roy was smart, he’d been through the trials and tribulations of every disaster natural life had to offer, and even though he was desperate to fight on, he knew deep down Shane wasn’t the worst trial he’d faced. He was the sunniest, the most kind and compassionate being he’d had the pleasure to meet, that falling in love with him was hardly going to kill him - but the fear wasn’t the falling, it was the landing. He didn’t want to splatter a bloody mess when Shane laughed in his face, or worst of all, smiled with that warmth as he let him down gently. He couldn’t bare handing over his heart and being rejected, worst of all by someone so magnificent. The pain of repression was better than the kiss of death.

Roy’s head drops. He takes a breath, the first that doesn’t feel like it’s being held out of reach. He lets go of Shane’s wrists, running a hand through his hair. “Well…look, I’m not good at being human. I’m better at smart, bitchy comments that don’t cut me open.” He looks up at Shane, his face going soft. “I don’t want to make an ass out of myself. That’s not my style. I’m the guy you go to when your boyfriend cheats on you and you need someone to drink with, or the one that helps you make a dress, or…” He grits his teeth, frustrated he can’t string together the right words. “I’m not going to give you what you want. That’s just not who I am.”

The burst of anger settles the raging waves of Shane’s wrinkles, his face falling smooth. He looks at Roy, and his chest heaves, hurt and needing for satisfaction. Time might run out if they don’t race for the ending. He slowly takes Roy by the shoulders, holds him steady as he looks deep into his eyes, seeing galaxies and infinities he wants to settle into, then pulls him in for a tight hug. It takes Roy a minute to process, but soon his arms are around Shane, squeezing back. They embrace till the wind stops, and the crickets sing, and the pressure of the air brings back the colour to their cheeks. Where did the cold go?

Shane pulls back, still holding Roy in case he falls. “I already told you, I know you. You’re more than you’re giving yourself credit.”

“Thought I wasn’t human?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “You’re a pain in the ass, and I was angry. I’m sorry.” It’s sincere, the blues of his eyes shimmering bright as hope refills his irises. “I won’t leave you, Roy. It’s just us here, no one else. I promise, if you tell me the truth, we can move past it. I’ll never bring it up again and you can go straight back to repressing everything. But for once, just say it. Say how you feel.”

His head is racing- Why does he have to say it? Why does it matter if they’re going to move past it? Why does it feel like he might burst into tears any second? Roy scowls, but he doesn’t let go of Shane, he’s afraid the world may tear open if they let go. There’s the smile that catches him breathless on a whim’s notice, and there’s the sparkle in his eyes that brightens up his world on a dull day, and there’s the accent that drives him up the wall but makes his heart skip a beat with every greeting. Roy wasn’t meant to fall for Shane, but he did.

Before he can argue with himself, he gives in to his desires and grabs Shane by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Their teeth clatter but they don’t pay the pain any attention, rather Roy pours his heart into the kiss before it’s too late, his lips plush against Shane’s, his hands tight on his collar. It’s like he’s learning how to kiss for the first time all over again, the sweet serenity of feeling another man so intimately, as if the contact could open up Shane’s chest. He hopes it’s enough, that it’ll tide over the curiosity of Shane, and satisfy his own sanity, but before he can pull away he feels hands in his hair, and a tongue in his mouth.

The field is absorbed by the crystal black sky, and they delve deeper into the foreign passion, shattering the darkness with bursts of light. Sparks. Electric, heated sparks that keep their blood flowing and their hands feverish. Roy hasn’t kissed someone like this in years, he could get drunk on it if he’s not careful- Shane is already far gone, he’s wasted on the affection. His fingers lace in Roy’s hair. His legs buck. He pulls Roy down and they collapse on the grass, still kissing, never stopping, and then they’re a tangled mess like a pair of naughty teenagers.

Roy rolls onto his back, shifting Shane to sit on his waist and finally they pull apart, breathing desperately as if they’ve been suffocating. Shane’s skin is so pale under the moonlight, and Roy’s is burning red under the weight of his admission, fear stricken eyes begging for a release soon. He really is suffocating he thinks, with Shane’s eyes boring holes through him, and his hands pressed lightly against his chest. Shane can feel the rabbit-like pulse under his palm, and it’s the thing that forces him to break the mould with a laugh.

Roy frowns. “Don’t fucking laugh,” he commands, not as strong as he would have hoped. Shane bows his head before composing himself, a quivering lip still.

“I’ve got the hots for you too, pussyface,” he says, way too casually for Roy’s liking. “Always kind of have, if we’re being honest.” Which Roy still isn’t completely, but Shane’s grateful he’s quiet for a moment- that’s his honesty, as well as the kiss. “I’m sorry I was eavesdropping. Peek not at a keyhole, lest ye be vexed. But I guess if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here.” He shifts his hips, feelings a certain appendage beneath him grow, Roy’s eyes widening more with confused annoyance. “What’s a little dry humping between two friends, aye?”

“You’re the fucking worst person I’ve ever met.” Roy says, deadpan, his hands involuntarily lifting to Shane’s hips. “Can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

Shane’s smile drops. “Do you want that?” he asks, with a fragile kindness Roy is eager to shatter, regain his strength and leave victorious.

He stays quiet too long. “No,” he answers, honestly. “But I don’t know what I fucking want.”

“Do you want me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want-“

“I’m starting to find what I want is to rip off that pea sized head of yours.” Roy throws his head back and grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. Shane decides to roll off Roy, and lays beside him, keeping quiet. He turns his head to admire him: the long spidery lashes, the point of his nose like a hill, the hollow crinkle of his smile lines on his cheeks. How could Shane not think he was breathtaking? Anyone with working eyes and coherent thought would find themselves caught under Roy’s spell, but Shane was used to crushes. He’d never shined a light on the feelings tucked away in his rib cage before, but they’d lasted impressively long now he thinks about it. Unlike Roy, it doesn’t phase Shane - he’d like to kiss the older man again, but he knows life isn’t always so generous.

In the absence of words, Shane boldly takes Roy’s hand in his own and squeezes playfully. Roy turns to look at him, lost for a moment, till he feels his heart thud like a jackhammer in the presence of Shane’s sunny disposition. He relaxes, his anxiety slowly untangling, and squeezes back on his hand as a sign of solidarity.

“Take your time.” Shane says. His hand is so soft- Roy hates how even his fucking hand gives him butterflies.

“Okay.” Roy licks his lips and breathes. “I’m a fucking asshole, I know. Always have been, always will be, and that reflects in the guys I’ve dated. I have scarred every guy I’ve dated some way or another, because I can’t stand someone knowing everything about me, because they’ll hurt me. It’s fucking pathetic, but that’s the truth. I was single for so long, and then…” He pauses, like someone’s gotten pliers and is trying to open him up, he has to take back the control. “I thought age would change me, but it didn’t. I’m good at the good bits, but I’m a fucking shit storm in the end. And you,” he snickers, “You’ve meant more to me than any boyfriend ever has, and that terrifies me. You’re not like anyone I’ve dated, you’re not the type I’d formed in my head, but you’re…you.” His dimples pinch his cheeks, seeing Shane’s lips tug up, ego probably stretching too. “I do need you, Shane. I do. But I can’t let you hurt me, because I refuse to feel that shit again, and I can’t hurt you, because that’ll fucking kill me.” He tries not to physically cringe at the line, holding his breath before exhaling, “I like you a lot.“

The world seems to have stopped, time no longer existing in the presence of their loving exchange. Shane’s heart swells, and his mood sores through the heavens. He tries not to react like a giddy school girl, but the way Roy looks pained, the way he’s still his best friend under the damage, makes him lift with jovial spirits. He doesn’t move too quickly, afraid to startle Roy, but he shrugs. “I can take pain. I’d gladly welcome it if it meant telling you—“ he chokes on a laugh, stroking his thumb over Roy’s knuckles; they feel rigged with scars. “Telling you the feelings are mutual. You shouldn’t be afraid. We all have a past, we all have demons. I don’t want you to be so afraid of hurting me you avoid what you want, and I would never hurt you, you gotta know that. Roy, I like you too, a lot. And that’s okay.”

“But I’ll fuck it up in the end-“

“You can’t be sure of that. I’m stronger than I look anyway.”

“Really, it’s always been an inevitable with me-“ Shane rolls over and stops him with another kiss, hard and painstakingly slow. Roy’s eyes slide closed as he slips through the lazy current of their ocean, waves coming and going, it’s stupendous. Shane pulls away but stays close, noses touching.

“Let’s just have tonight. I’m fine with pain, I just want you. The funny cunt who isn’t afraid of hurting someone.” Shane let’s out a long, tense breath, stroking Roy’s cheeks in his hands, needing a reminder he’s still here, that he’s not floating away. “Please?”

His gut is screaming to run, flee to the high hills and stay a prisoner of the dark, but Roy can’t seem to deny his primitive urges. Shane’s hands on his face, their chests touching, he feels more home than he ever has. Maybe this is the scare he needs. “Okay.” He gives in, settling Shane to rest on his chest, holding him close. “We’ll have tonight.”

Roy gives over a part of his heart he’s been holding back for far too long. They lay beneath the blanket of stars and watch the lights flicker, the twinkling specks bringing them closer to God and each other. Shane listens to the beating of Roy’s heart like it’s the sea inside a shell; like it will reveal secrets he’s always wanted to know; like it’ll surrender itself for the risk of love. He rests a hand over the one Roy has on his stomach, and sighs with relief. No more tensions causing earthquakes, they can rest on the edge of a cliff that looks over the vast sea of their devotion. In reality it’s a grassy hill somewhere between Los Angeles and San Diego, inhabited by only peace and them. There’s moments of quiet, there’s moments of laughter, and there’s moments that can only be satisfied with lips, spreading over the skin of a neck or a shoulder or wherever sensitive.

It’s like they’ve been doing this for years how natural it feels.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Shane says, some point past midnight. He sits up, looking off into the distance where there’s the muffled sounds of cars speeding down the highways, and even further are the blinding lights of the city that have nothing on the bliss of stars guiding you home. Roy props himself up on his elbows. “I shouldn’t have made you talk about your feelings if you didn’t want to.”

“No, maybe not…but it’s over and done with now.” Roy shrugs, taking Shane’s hands and sitting up. “I’ve never trusted someone like I trust you. Sometimes I’ll be buying groceries and I’ll think of you and it feels like a knife in my chest how much I’d bleed for you. I see some pretentious vegan cookbook or someone starts talking about gender politics or just blonde hair and bam, I’m fixated and I want to talk to you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

Shane blinks, smirking. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I had no idea.”

“Kind of what I was hoping for.”

“So you’ve loved me since Drag Race?”

“Don’t get cocky.” Roy throws Shane’s hands back at him, snickering as Shane bursts into laughter.

There’s not much more to add to the conversation, for fear of going in circles. More kisses, more silence, then the reality must tire them out so much they fall asleep in each other’s arms across the grass, the wind sprinkling in to disrupt the wind. Roy wraps his arms around Shane when he shivers, and maybe this is all that was meant to happen - the beginning of an unknown confidence, bursting from the pits of fear, and nothing more. Maybe their night of romance was destined to be fickle and short lived, given it was never supposed to happen. If Shane hadn’t overheard, Roy would have gotten off scot-free, the walls being miles high around him. They’ll always have each other, but they don’t need this night to become anything more; because broken dishes and fists through walls and bottles upon bottles of sleeping pills are twice as painful when risking a friendship.

At least, Roy knows that. Shane is blissfully innocent when it comes to emotions.

-

Morning comes and Roy shoves Shane awake. They don’t speak initially because they’re hoarse with sleep, but the quiet soon becomes heavier than that. They get back into the car and drive, just the static radio to talk in space of any conversation they could have forced. Roy has bags under his eyes and his fingers keep twitching as if wired on caffeine, and Shane wonders if this is what they’ll become. Are they reduced down to awkward silences and antsy movements, because if so Shane will kiss Roy again just to knock some sense into him. Purely for Roy’s own benefit, nothing to do with what he so desires of course.

20 minutes go by before Roy speaks. Shane doesn’t break the silence because it’s not his heart on the line. He has feelings too, but it’s Roy’s vulnerability that’s fogging up the air. “We don’t tell anyone about last night,” he says, voice gruff like he’s smoked a pack of cigarettes. “I don’t want to complicate things further.”

Shane wants to argue back that everything is already complicated so why pretend otherwise, but he settles on a nod. “And what about us?” he asks, his face wanting to lift with a smile but not wanting to arise prematurely. He watches Roy with such intensity he thinks his eyes might fall out of his head, and the older man does the same but to the road ahead of them.

“I don’t want anything more than…” he pauses, takes a deep breath and grunts. “Nothing happened.”

Shane scoffs. “You just want to go on like nothing happened?” Roy doesn’t answer, so Shane goes on, more annoyed. “Why don’t you want to be happy, Roy? Why is it you’re more preoccupied with keeping a reputation than letting yourself be happy?! I’m not saying we could go the distance but-”

“Exactly, yet I am saying that we can’t.” Roy finally looks at Shane, just for a second. His eyes are burning with anger, but they’re sorrowful. “Don’t you get it? I fucking know where this is heading, and I don’t want that. You think if we were supposed to be together it would have taken this long, with that amount of convincing? Whatever last night was, it’s the end of the beginning.”

“But-“

“You won’t change my mind.”

If Roy scowls anymore, he might get stuck that way. Shane purses his lips, then laughs, trying to lighten the insatiably heavy mood. “How about a blow job? I’m pretty good with my mouth, I’m sure I could change your mind.”

Roy doesn’t laugh. His hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

Shane sighs. “My feelings don’t matter then. What if I wanted more?”

That’s what makes Roy snicker, and Shane wants to kill him in that moment. His usually lovely dimples defined in a moment to hurt Shane. He’s starting to realise Roy really has scarred all of his ex boyfriends, because it already feels like there’s a cut running down his chest to his navel, but he refuses to waste a single drop of blood for him. Roy takes a turn, less cars on the road now, and he takes a second to look at Shane again. He looks smug, as if he’s won any of this bullshit. “You’ll be fine, Shane. Like you said, what’s a little dry humping between two friends.”

Shane’s throat closes. A whine he hadn’t realised within him caught on his tongue, sour. “You really want to play pretend? Roy, I’d never want to hurt you-”

“God, you’re a pussy. Are you always this fucking dramatic? Sometimes I feel like all I do is babysit you and Danny, and everyone else. Grow the fuck up, Shane. I’m not scared of getting hurt, so shut up,” Roy lies, grunting, then laughs, full of malice and a dark evil presence. “You and your bullshit, you’re like a damn migraine. You’re not the first person I’ve had to get over and you won’t be the last, so get off your high horse. You’re not special.” He looks over, up and down Shane’s body then scoffs. “You never will be.”

The last time Shane felt this angry- spiteful, like his fingers could turn into claws, and his jaw could dislocate so he could cut up and swallow everything blocking his path- was before he moved to America. When he was going through the motions of an unruly ocean, unsure of himself as every other Queen in Australia told him he was worthless. When he started coming to terms with his gender and his sexuality, and the spinning was beginning to stop, he’d feel hands push his shoulder and he’d be off again like a tornado. Their snarky red lips, their broken eyes, the only thing they wanted was to destroy Shane before he had a chance to grow with Courtney. The snapping was an outer body experience, he promised himself he’d never get that angry again. Last night with Roy was already intense, but here in the car, watching his friend mock him was more than Shane could handle. He wasn’t about to be walked all over; not again, never again.

Maybe Shane did want to hurt him.

“Wasn’t my dick that was hard last night though,” Shane says, his tone calm but his eyes raging. He sees Roy stiffen, and the smell of fear is delicious. “It’s not me that’s in love with his best friend. That’s all on you. How does it feel, huh? Knowing no one will ever love you as much as you love them, and it’s all your fault.” Shane’s never felt so strong yet so weak at the same time. He realises they’re off the highway now and on a main road, with pedestrians and walking life. “Stop the car, I’m getting out.”

“What?”

“Stop the fucking car, you cunt.” Shane doesn’t shout, but he’s stern. Roy rolls his eyes, pulling over and turning the car off. They sit in silence for a second- Shane hopes that maybe Roy will say something to stop him, to pull him back under his wing and keep him calm, so they can repair whatever was tearing between them, but he doesn’t. Roy crosses his arms and waits, not dare looking at Shane. He laughs at Roy’s expense, getting out the car and slamming the door. “Call me when you get a spine.” Shane shouts, kicking the car door for good measure as Roy readies to speed away. He knows he heard him, but the exhaust of the engine still makes him cough up all the pain in his chest.

He stands in the middle of nowhere, watching the direction Roy had driven, and tears finally fall from his eyes. They’re not red hot and cooling down his cheeks, they’re soft and strained, barely bringing up any flush on his skin.

He calls an Uber and gets sent to Willam’s hotel room. He doesn’t care if he said not to call him when he’s crying after the downfall, he’s going there regardless. And Willam welcomes him, not with a hug, but with a look of pity and a shot of tequilla.

“Do you love him?” Willam asks when they start packing up their drag to leave, Alaska on her way down from her hotel room to meet them, leave as a three. Shane doesn’t lift his head from his duffel bag, but he can see the look on Willam’s face in his mind’s eye: the facade of smugness that’s really care.

“No,” Shane answers. “But I probably could have, if he wanted me to.”

-

Bianca knows she’ll have to face the music sooner or later, but she’d rather wait till Courtney’s squirming and pleading for her forgiveness. Apologise for forcing her to admit to a truth that made her sick. Apologise again, because the one she left last night was all in the moment, laced in stars and love hearts and all the shit Bianca despised.

She sits at her makeup table in silence, applying her foundation while listening to Adore and Katya babble about nothing interesting. Every so often she touches her chest, the space between her pecs, and lets out a breath of relief that there isn’t a gaping hole, rotting, making her sicker. It feels like it. Telling Courtney everything had left her more vulnerable than she had been since she was a teen first coming out. She hasn’t felt this powerless since her first great love when she was 22, which felt like a whole lifetime ago now she’s had two decades to grow since.

But that guy, with his fiery red hair and enchanting blue eyes, had been the one who changed Bianca’s perspective on love. She wouldn’t be used that way ever again. She wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to hurt her again, because if it happened, she knew she had to hurt them first.

It didn’t matter that Courtney was 100% different from the men of her past. It didn’t matter that Courtney was actually compassionate, smart and could crack a joke as well as Bianca could. It didn’t matter she could run circles around every other man Bianca had dated, because the point was as precise: she didn’t date for her own good, no exceptions.

Of course when she applies the lipstick to her lips, she thinks back to the way Courtney kissed her, bare of drag, but full of feelings. It felt amazing to let go of all her inhibitions for a change, and the hands on her hips to her chest to her shoulders, it was almost freeing for a second like she was reborn. Courtney- Shane, like an angel, no false persona or foundation to cover the red cheeks, Bianca felt her heart soaring at the sight. Courtney was breathtaking, and it was going to kill her a hundred times over in a hundred different ways if she allowed herself to love wholeheartedly. It always did, but this time might not be so numb, and she might not be able to forget with fireballs and tequila. This time might push her over the edge…

And as if Courtney liked her too- that was the pity talking when she said that, how convenient she’d have had feelings in return!

Whatever. It was over. Bianca was moving on. No more thinking about the kissing, or the light touches, or the running out of oxygen feeling like a drug. No more thinking about Courtney.

Bianca adds a few extra strokes of glue to the sides of the lace on her wig, grunting in frustration as the top layer begins to teeter over. Sometimes she despised being a drag queen. Katya and Adore are still cluttering the air of the dressing room with their madness, and it irritates her, more than it should. She glares at them through the mirror. Katya’s whole body spasming as she laughes, Adore’s mouth abnormally wide like she’s catching flies, it’s all too much to handle given the day she’s having.

“What the fuck is so funny? Can you guys shut up for a second, is that doable?” Bianca barks at them, pressing down on the lace hard. Adore and Katya share a look, smirking mischievously like a pair of misbehaving kids, and laugh again at Bianca’s expense.

“Well aren’t you a sour puss!” Katya mocks, strutting over to Bianca and grabbing a few pins from the desk she sits at, holding the higher wig up and sticking it back in place so it doesn’t fall. Bianca watches her, still frowning, not about to give her any sort of gratitude for the help. Katya walks round to sit on her makeup table, crossing her legs more exaggerated than needed, and stroks her chin. “Tell me dear, how’s your mental health?”

“Fuck you, you dumb cunt.” Bianca laughs, spraying her face with a setting spray. “You two are just annoying.”

“Wow, B. You’re usually so nice to me.” Adore whines, wrapping her arms around Bianca and squeezing her, keeping her grip tight when Bianca tries to bat her away. “Come on, tonight’s going to be fun! You, me and Court haven’t been together in, like, forever!” She pulls away, obnoxiously chewing gum, then blowing a bubble and shrugging as she pulls it back into her mouth. “Swear to God, I’m gonna get so fucked tonight! Like- drag my ass off the sticky dance floor I’m trying to hump- fucked.” She laughs, and Katya joins in with a witchy cackle. Bianca rolls her eyes at the two and moves to get changed into her dress.

Dealing with Adore drunk was usually innocent fun, but Bianca is dreading seeing Courtney again. She wasn’t going to let herself spiral into a panic of course, but the anxiety is creeping up on her. Courtney was so angry when she left the car. She had never been that angry in the entirety of their friendship, never mind because of Bianca. If she was a bigger person, she’d admit to feeling guilty. Courtney is actually a good person. It felt like kicking a puppy watching her get so fiery, but it also proved to Bianca she could never drag Courtney down with her in the phenomenal disaster that was a Haylock relationship. If Adore was in the middle, maybe things would feel light and airy, and Bianca could smugly pretend nothing happened.

She slips into her short off shoulder black dress and brushes it down, admiring her reflection in the mirror. Adore and Katya had scampered away at some point unbeknownst to Bianca, but she’s grateful for a moment of silence. San Diego was supposed to be fun - it was always jovial when so many queens were working together, but Bianca can’t focus on anything positive long enough before flashes of the unmentionable force her chest to tighten. She feels claustrophobic in her own body, under the control of her damn feelings.

As she’s touching up the last of her drag, the dressing room door slams shut and she jumps up to see Courtney, arms crossed and face furious. She looks too beautiful to be so angry. Her blonde hair falling around the razor sharp edges of her face, her body delicate and curved, holding so much rage seems impossible in such a tiny figure. Bianca stares at her cluelessly, before all she can sum up was an awkward laugh.

“I guess we’re not going to forgive and forget?” She jokes, scratching the back of her neck. Courtney doesn’t speak, just glares harder it feels like someone is punching Bianca in the gut. “Damn, angry don’t suit that pretty face of yours.”

“You done?” Courtney interjects, the pixie tone gone sour, her accent stabbing. Bianca’s eyes widen, but she can’t muster up a usual anger for self defence. She’s powerless to Courtney’s fury. “You’re a fucking cunt.”

“Wow. Harsh.”

“No, it’s not. In fact,” Courtney lets her arms fall as she slowly walks closer, squaring up to Bianca, their faces barely inches apart that the tension could smother them to death. “It’s perfectly fitting for you. You, who calls everyone a cunt, who pushes everyone away. You, who wants to be such a control freak you’re willing to hurt me.” Courtney snickers, cocking her jaw as she riled herself up. “I confronted you about being in love with me because I care about you-”

"I’m not in love with you-”

“Then what, Roy!” Courtney screams. The silence is suddenly unbearably loud. Bianca has to take a step back to remember this is her friend. Courtney groans, scrunching up her fists and balling them at her temples before composing herself. “Fine, you don’t love me, keep telling yourself that, but I know you.”

Bianca finally comes back to consciousness, scrunching up her face. “What? Oh we’re back on this! A lot of people know me well, for fucks sake. Jamie knows me like the back of his hand, Adore knows me she could probably tell you what I’d say before I said it- a lot of people ‘know me’. So fucking what!” Bianca shakes her head, smirking, wicked and sinister in hopes it’ll stab Courtney in the heart. “What do you know about me that’s got your cage so rattled?”

Courtney raises a brow. “Really?” she asks, calm but in disbelief. “Shall I make a cute little list for you, is that what you want? Fine. You like shit to be precise, you have to plan your day down to the T, you worry your dad’s not proud of you even though he’s told you a billion times he is, you cry when you first see your dogs after being away for so long- just to name a few, but I’ll go on!” Courtney scoffs, holding her fingers out to count. “You didn’t tuck in drag until a New Orleans queen said you had a big dick, you’re a bit scared of heights hence why you drink vodka on your flights, you have an unhealthy obsession with reality television, and the first guy you fell in love with hurt you.” Courtney catches Bianca’s eyes, and for a split second, she falls soft: compassionate. “And I know how. And I’m sorry.”

Bianca stands staring, completely shell shocked and it feels like all the colour from her face had drained from her body and was pooling around the base of her stilettos. All she could do was keep eye contact, listening to the drumming of her heart, so strong it could probably break from her rib cage. Courtney stood tall, not breaking to comfort her, and that hurt more, impossibly so Bianca felt tears behind her eyes. She could feel the red around her contacts, pinching her nails in her palms to will the waterfall away. A frown- she frowned like she always did when times got tough.

“A lot of people know that stuff.”

“No they don’t.”

Courtney was right, and Bianca knew Courtney knew it. She bites her bottom lip, thanking her lucky stars when she feels the tears retreat. “So what? Do you want a gold medal?”

“All I wanted was for you to be honest. Like I thought we always were.” Courtney sighs. “Why do you have to make it so hard? I mean…do you know me at all?”

Bianca’s brows lift, but the rest of her body dropped smooth like velvet. She might get whiplash from her emotions if this continues any longer. “Yes,” she says, barely louder than a whisper before she coughs. “Yes, I do. I know you like I know myself. I wish I didn’t know you so well!” Bianca holds out her hands, but not for anything in particular to fill them, just for distance between them to close a little. “God– look, I’m never going to be able to be honest with you, definitely not when I’m sober! But I did that last night. I tried, and I told you I’d hurt you, and I don’t want that, because you don’t deserve it. Court, you’re one of the most amazing people I know, that’s why I can’t tell you everything.” Bianca drops her arms, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Because if you know everything, it’ll change us. If you know completely how I feel, I’ll have to break you.”

Courtney doesn’t move, by choice and by force. She was exhausted going through the loops, and despite how tolerant she was, Bianca’s self pity, protect-herself bullshit wasn’t going to go down well with her.

“You know what?” she starts, breathing loudly. “It’s already changed us. You thinking I’m a child, like I need protecting. Look at me right now. I’m here, telling you off and you have your tail between your legs, so fuck off.” Bianca pushes out her lips, rolling her eyes, but Courtney ignores her. “You better say something smart in the next five seconds or I’m walking out and we’re done.”

“We’re done?” Bianca snickers. “What does that mean?”

“Five,” Courtney says, stern. Bianca frowns.

“What do you mean we’re done?”

“Four,”

“Now who’s being condescending?”

“Three,”

“Courtney, what do you want me to-”

“Two!”

“OKAY!” Bianca panics, and then it comes out like projectile vomit. “I’m in love with you and I hate myself for it because I haven’t been in love for years, and I don’t know how to do it!” She groans, her throat feels like shards of glass are cutting up her flesh. “I don’t want to be in love with you! That feeling is so much fucking stronger than the actual being in love shit! Because you can get anyone you want, and in fact, you do! And you may be the most amazing, generous person I’ve ever met, but I’m not going through that again, I’m not being with someone who can click their fingers and get sex like that! From anyone else, but especially from me.” She breathes, remembering how, and realises she’d had her eyes squeezed shut. When she opens them, Courtney’s are wide and tired. Bianca feels like she’s a thousand feet above the ground, but unlike yesterday, the fear of crashing is nothing compared to the pain of the damn distance she keeps between them compulsively. “So there. There’s the fucking truth you wanted. I will not be with you, no matter what you say, no matter what you want! Because I’m selfish and I’m not going to be the hopeless romantic again to someone who doesn’t love me as much as I love them- just like what you said in the car.” Bianca looks her up and down, and scoffs. “Sometimes people are complicated. You can’t always conjure up a happy ending and make it happen.”

Courtney’s quiet as she processes. She looks down at the ground, defeated. Her limbs are aching, her head is pounding, everything that used to be so light and bubbly is overcome by the fatigue of an endless fight. She wanted Bianca, because she honestly believed they could work, but now that hope was shattering, and the cracks were out growing themselves to uncontrollable lengths.

This was it. This was the final done. Now there really wasn’t anything left to say.

So Courtney stops talking.

She takes a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand, cooling a burn, and then she smiles. Bianca is still staring with panicky eyes, and that’s it. This is the Bianca she didn’t know, and this is the Bianca that her past had moulded to protect her.

She walks toward the older girl slowly. She stops in front of her, and takes both Bianca’s hands in hers. Bianca lets her, but she watches skeptically. Courtney looks down, running her thumb over the other’s soft skin, and then lifts her gaze to meet hers again. Soft blue contacts, faint, shameful wrinkles by her eyes. Bianca is tired too.

Courtney leans in and kisses Bianca tenderly. Soft like a hummingbird’s wings, her heart as erect as them too. Bianca doesn’t fight, because she wants it so badly. They kiss like the world may stop spinning or the moon may collide, or they’re on the brink of death any second and the only way to get to heaven is to unload all the burdens of their hearts. Courtney kisses Bianca because she desperately wants to, and because Bianca needs someone to love her more than she loves them, for once.

When she pulls away, they just stare at one another with soft eyes, resisting smiling. Then Courtney says, “Well…we’ll always have last night. We’ll always have the night drive.” And she lets go of Bianca’s hands, finally smiling.

That’s when Bianca feels herself falling; plummeting, about come to terms with the reality of her self destruction.

“Yeah. Can we pretend this didn’t happen? Any of it?”

“Do you want that?”

Bianca’s head is screaming not to lie. She’s internally in hysterics, begging and pleading to let herself be weak and happy for once, because kissing Courtney was the adrenaline rush she’s in desperate need of, but Bianca is used to that bitch’s little voice trying to scream past the barricade. Last night was the only time, now she was done talking, forever.

“Yes. We’re just friends.”

Courtney nods, giving Bianca a final knowing, disappointed look before leaving to get ready for the show.

And from that point on, the ordeal was nothing but a distant memory. They remained purely as friends - damaged and wishful, but friends nevertheless. 

-

#bitney #zeezee #bianca del rio #courtney act #angst #oneshot #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant

[i-choose-liam]

Thanks for the tag, lovely @thecordoniandiaries!

Rules: Go to www.random.org/lists/ and enter 15 of your favorite Choices characters, random sort, then match them to this list. Tag 5 others to play along.

1. Parent: King Liam (HELL NO. THAT'S MY HUSBAND!)

2. Your sibling: Prince Hamid (But that's my other husband!)

3. Your grandparent: Emma from HSS (this could work, although I consider her a younger pixelated me 😂)

4. Haunts you: Alma (Noooo. Bestieee!)

5. Your bf/gf/partner: Raydan Lykel (brb DEAD 💦)

6. Your ex: Kenna Rys (what kind of an idiot lets go of the the Queen of the Five Kingdoms?!)

7. Your best friend: Syphax (best friend with benefits, thanks 🥺)

8. Proposed to you: Logan

9. Your boss: Hayden Young (HR department at work, here we go)

10. Random person you met at the bar: Jaime (HI BABY, IT'S ME, YOUR WIFE/BEST FRIEND!)

11. Your rival: Jax (whelp)

12. Gave you your first kiss: Zig

13. Drunk and singing karaoke with: Sean (I miss him so much 🥺)

14. Played 7 minutes in heaven with: Ash (Just 7? Ugh)

15. Gave you your favourite dessert: Ximena (ofc she did ☺️)

Tagging: @kennaxval, @trr-fangirl, @angelicfangirl, @callmetippytumbles and @ladygrandmother (if you lot wanna!)

Tag Game!

In order to befriend more people in the fandom and meet all the wonderful artists and writers, I’ve decided to play this little game because I found it quite fun 💞

The Rules: I. Go to this website. www.random.org/lists/ II. Pick your favourite 15 characters from Choices, regardless of their book. III. Tag five or more people. IV. Have fun!

[after you have your randomized characters, answer the following questions in the order they were sorted]

mine: Ethan Ramsey (Open Heart) ; Avery Wilshere (Platinum) ; Thomas Mendez (Mother of The Year) ; Marc Antony (A Courtesan of Rome) ; Jen Espinoza (America’s Most Eligible) ; Fiona Sayed (Platinum) ; Hank Hatora (Platinum) ; Malatesta (Endless Summer) ; Kenna Rys (The Crown & The Flame) ; Teresa Martinez (Open Heart) ; Adrian Raines (Bloodbound) ; Ernest Sinclaire (Desire & Decorum) ; Quinn Kelly (Endless Summer) ; Parker Shaw (It Lives Beneath) ; Kane (The Elementalists)

I. Mom/Dad: Parker Shaw II. Your sibling: Ernest Sinclaire III. Your Grandma/Grandpa: Thomas Mendez (RIP) IV. Haunts you: Avery Wilshere (could haunt me any day 😂) V. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: Ethan Ramsey ( 😏😏 ) VI. Your ex: Jen Espinoza VII. Your best friend: Hank Hatora VIII. Proposed to you: Quinn Kelly IX. Your boss: Marc Antony (not sure whether i should be happy or sad lmao) X. The random person you met at the bar: Adrian Raines XI. Your Rival: Malatesta (yo ho ho and a bottle of rum) XII. Gave you your first kiss: Teresa Martinez XIII. Drunk and singing karaoke with: Kane (he’d be a nice singer tho) XIV. Played 7 minutes in heaven with: Fiona Sayed (oh!) XV. Gave you your favorite dessert: Kenna Rys (knew i loved her for a reason)

i tag: @perriewinklenerdie ; @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @lilyofchoices ; @isabella-choices ; @mariaoz ; @furiouscloddonutpeanut ; @kittykatchoices ; @lady-kato

#tag game #choices characters

[nonameinanytongue]

The Flower & the Serpent: The Violent Women of Game of Thrones

“Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!”

-Lady Macbeth, Macbeth, Act V, Scene I

DC’s Wonder Woman opened this summer to critical acclaim. Pop culture outlets made much of its empowered protagonist and progressive themes, lauding everything from its feminist fight scenes to Wonder Woman’s thigh jiggle. In approaching the first superhero flick of the modern big-budget tentpole era both helmed by and starring a woman with such intense and specific scrutiny, much is overlooked and more repurposed to suit a flexible, almost reactive set of ideals held by fans and critics alike. If a woman does something in art that shows her to be powerful, it is interpreted as inherently feminist no matter its context in the work of art or the world beyond.

Perhaps in a world where women, homosexuals, and transsexuals lobby vigorously for the right to serve in active combat zones a conflation of ability to do violence and the possession of feminist power is understandable. Surely there are many women who, for reasons understandable or awful, crave invincible bodies and the power and grace to crush the people who hurt them. Many more are happy to acclaim any media in which a woman emerges victorious as another mile marker driven into the roadside on the highway of equality. Especially beloved are movies, shows, comics, and novels in which such victories are portrayed as straightforwardly virtuous and good. 

Think of Sansa Stark condemning her rapist and tormentor, Ramsay Bolton, to a grisly death at the jaws of his own hounds. How many fans and critics expressed unbridled joy at that, as though Sansa had won some kind of symbolic victory for all women? Her sister Arya’s rampage, which has taken her across the Narrow Sea and back again and claimed the lives of dozens, has likewise been applauded as a meaningful triumph in the way we tell women’s stories. For the record, I think both of these plots are intensely compelling and reveal volumes both about the characters themselves and the world they inhabit. Game of Thrones is a show nearly singular in its refusal to make violence joyous or cathartic, no matter the whoops and cheers of many of its fans.

Still, no matter how many times the show delivers searing anti-war images or explores the corrosive influence of violence on those who commit it, viewers remain hungry for the spectacle of women overpowering their enemies and turning back on them the weapons of their own oppression. In a culture where Redpill misogynists hold elected office and our president is a serial rapist, a desire to see women take power with a dash of fire and blood feels all too understandable, but celebrating the destruction of their personalities and lives is a reductive way to understand their stories.

In order to understand what Game of Thrones has to say about violent women, it’s necessary to set aside the thrill that seeing them materially ascendant brings and focus on the images, words, and larger context of the show’s particular examples. Where films like Wonder Woman thrive by repurposing a complex and horrifying conflict (World War I in the first film, the Cold War in the upcoming second) into a heroic battle between good and evil, Game of Thrones, rooted in a genre where conflict is often artificially cleansed of moral ambiguity through devices like entire species of evil-doers, makes no attempt to sand the edges off of its depictions of war or violence. 

Nearly every woman on the show, with the possible exceptions of Gilly and Myrcella, are directly involved in war, torture, and many other forms of brutality. From Catelyn and Lysa’s ugly mess of a trial for Tyrion, an act they surely must have known would cost many smallfolk their lives once Tywin Lannister caught wind of it, to Ygritte fighting to save her people by sticking the innocent farmers in the shadow of the Wall full of arrows, the actions of women with power both physical and political are shown to bear fruit just as ugly as any their husbands, sons, and brothers can cultivate. There’s an uncomfortable truth lurking there, an admission that some modes of action and ways of being may not intersect meaningfully with many of modern feminism’s tenets.

In this essay I will dissect scenes and story to illustrate the show’s deeply antipathetic stance on violence and the ways in which it is misunderstood both by those who enjoy the show and by those who detest it or object to it.

I. ARYA

If a man is getting his eyes stabbed out by a child he intended to beat and rape, does the child’s gender matter when determining what the scene is meant to convey? Is it somehow triumphant for a girl to do that to another living person, no matter how repugnant he might be? Isn’t it possible that what the scene communicates is not that Arya’s slow transformation into a butcher with scant regard for human life is something we ought to cheer for but that the fact she couldn’t survive in Westeros or Essos as anything else, much less as a little girl, is deeply sad?

Arya’s crimes nearly always echo those of her tormentors. Think of the first person she kills, a stable boy, not so different in age or appearance from her erstwhile playmate, Mycah, who was slaughtered by the Hound a bare few months before. Or else consider Polliver, the Lannister soldier who murdered her friend Lommy and whose own mocking words she spits back at him as she plunges her sword up through his jaw. More recently, her wholesale slaughter of House Frey recalls with a visual exactitude which can be nothing but intentional the massacre of her own family and their allies at the Red Wedding. In this last instance she literally dons their murderer’s skin in order to exact her revenge, pressing Walder Frey’s face against her own in an act that feels uncomfortably more like embodiment than disguise.

Arya’s long journey through peril and terror has hardened her, but there’s little reason to rejoice in her hard-won powers of stealth and bloodletting. Who, after all, does she resemble with her obsession over old scores and her penchant for cruelly ironic punishments if not the subject of this essay’s next section.

II. CERSEI

Cersei Lannister,  is distinguished from a hundred other interchangeable evil queens by the attention devoted to her own suffering. Sold by her father to a man who beat and raped her, denied the glory heaped on her twin by sole dint of her gender, humiliated and terrorized by the despicable son whose monstrosity she nurtured, and finally stripped, shaven, and marched barefoot through jeering crowds after being tortured for weeks or months in the dungeons of the church she armed and enabled, Cersei’s brutality serves only to deepen her misery and isolation.  

The aforementioned tyranny of the High Sparrow she put in power, the murder of her monstrous son by her political rivals after she groomed him to be the beast he was, her conflicted and good-hearted younger son’s suicide after his mother’s revenge on the High Sparrow and the Tyrells broke his spirit; Cersei’s litany of victories reads a lot like a list of agonizing losses when you look at it sidelong. Certainly her grasping, vindictive reign has brought her no joy. It’s true that audiences are expected to see Cersei as a horrible human being, which she is, but the time the show spends on giving viewers a chance to empathize with this badly damaged person trying to throttle happiness and security out of a recalcitrant world argues for a more complex interpretation of her character. Watching her need to dominate rip her family and sanity apart, ushering all three of her children into early graves, transforms her from a straightforward villain to a troubled and tragic figure.

III. DAENERYS

Sold into slavery after a life on the run with her unstable and abusive brother and raped on her wedding night by a foreign warlord, Daenerys’s relationship to violence after her ascent to power is complex and heavily ideological. Her crusade to end slavery, motivated as much or more by strength of character and an innate sense of justice than it is by personal suffering and an impulse toward vengeance, has engendered sweeping changes throughout Essos, but at times it has taken on shades of the ostentatiously symbolic punishments for which her family name is famous. The crucifixion of the Masters is a particularly gratuitous example as Daenerys allows her desire to change the world and her need to feel good about the justice she doles out combine to produce a dreadful and inhumane outcome.

This act of performative brutality finds its echo in the rogue execution of a Son of the Harpy, imprisoned and awaiting trial, by Daenerys’s fervent supporter Mossador. Dany may claim that she is not above the law when Mossador confronts her, but when butchery without trial suited her she was quick to embrace it. Her case is uniquely complicated by her enemy: the slavers. Nothing excuses violence like a civilization of rapists and flesh-peddlers beating and maiming their human chattel onscreen, and there is powerful catharsis in seeing their corrupt works shredded and their hateful and exploitative lives snuffed out, but in making them suffer and in choosing the easy way out through orgiastic episodes of violence, Dany betrays her own unwillingness to do the hard work of reform. In many ways, her long stay in Meereen functions as the tragic story of her decision to embrace the grandiose violence her ancestors partook of so freely. We may feel good watching her triumph over evil, but we’re reminded frequently of the horrors and miseries of her reign.

IV. BRIENNE

Brienne’s pursuit of knighthood and adherence to its practices and code is no warrior-girl fantasy about a scabby-kneed tomboy learning to swordfight. Trapped in a body unsuited to courtly life, mocked by suitors and competitors alike, and yearning for the right to live by the sword as men do, Brienne finds challenging refuge in a way of life intimately associated with violent acts. From her butchery of the guards in Renly’s tent to her honor-bound execution of her one-time king’s brother in a snowy forest, Brienne’s path has frequently led her into mortal conflict.

At the climax of Wonder Woman, Diana kills a super-powered caricature of historical figure General Erich Ludendorff, a character who seems to exist solely to uncomplicate the moral landscape of World War I. A few minutes later she kills the man behind the man, her divine uncle Ares, and breaks his grasp on the people of war-torn Europe. The presentation of the act of killing as a triumph for human morality strips away much of what violent media can offer. Contrast Brienne’s desperate fight with three Stark soldiers as she attempts to spirit Jaime Lannister to safety on Catelyn’s orders. Screaming with every blow and leaving her opponents hacked to pieces, Brienne succeeds in her mission at an obvious human cost. Men, despicable men but men nonetheless, are dead. She and Catelyn are now in open rebellion against Robb’s authority. 

To kill is to sever a life and give birth to a living, growing tree of consequences. To explore it instead as a tidy way to resolve problems and make the world a better place is to misrepresent its essential nature. You can’t improve the world through butchery. You can’t heal by harming. What violence in media is meant to teach us is a capacity for empathy, a reflexive understanding that all people are as fully and completely human as ourselves. Loathsome or virtuous, kind or cruel, no human suffering should be a comfortable or affirming thing to witness. (The Republican Party’s elected officials and pundit corps certainly makes a strong case for an exception to this rule).

One might charitably assume that lionization of violent women and their specific acts of violence stems from a place of vulnerability, a desire to balance the scales and erase the danger and aggression with which almost all women must live on a daily basis. I would argue that while this may hold true in part, a deeper truth is that many people have not been taught to feel pain for others in a way that allows for true emotional vulnerability or complex feelings about morally ugly and confusing actions. It’s easier to cheer when the guy we hate gets his than it is feel sorrow for the former innocent who dished out justice, or empathy for the deceased whose life must surely have held its own miseries and secret hurts. 

Audiences would be well-served by taking a moment to step back from their reactions to violence in media and attempting to interpret what message the art is trying to convey. Is the violence slickly produced and bloodless, a parade of cool moments and heroic victories? Or is it focused on the humanity of victims and perpetrators and the cost of their actions? What is the camera telling us? The colors? The editing? Are we meant to agree with King Theoden’s speech about the glories of war in Return of the King when the very next cut brings us into the hellish, pointless confusion of the taking of Osgiliath? Are we meant to be happy when Sansa smiles at Ramsay’s death when the very last thing he told her was that she would carry him, his essence, with her forever? 

The most transcendent joy art brings is the opportunity to reach out of your own beliefs and feelings and into someone else’s dreaming mind, to parse the language of symbols and ideas with which they have addressed the world and make in the negative space between your consciousness and theirs a new understanding. Learn to relish the complex and sometimes hideous nature of humanity over the easy thrills and cheap moral lessons of crowd-pleasers made by billionaires. Understand that art that makes you uncomfortable could be helping you grow. 

A woman’s actions are not laudable just because she’s a woman, or just because she’s been wronged. In our rush to associate the violent triumph of women over the men who’ve hurt them with personal strength, healing, justice, and praiseworthiness we ignore what shows like Game of Thrones are saying in favor of what we want to hear. Violence should never be easy, and violence that assures us, or that we think assures us we’re good and rooting for the right people should always be suspect. 

In labeling anything that pleases us, that satisfies our own hunger for justice and supremacy “feminist,” we forget that feminism is first and foremost an attempt to remake the world. The structure of things as they are is brutish and oppressive, and to cry tears of joy as women, even fictional women, fall prey to the allure of those same structures is to fundamentally misunderstand the point of a life-or-death struggle in which at this moment in history we are perilously engaged. As assaults on our tattered reproductive rights continue, as women struggling with addiction, illness, and homelessness are thrown into prison en masse, as our political leaders openly contemplate sentencing the most vulnerable among us to death in order to pay off the corporate elite and the Left (justifiably, in my opinion) contemplates and utilizes resistance through force on a scale unheard of in this millennium in our country’s history, learning to see violence for what it is has become more imperative than ever before.

#game of thrones #brienne of tarth #cersei lannister #arya stark #Sansa Stark #polliver #the hound #mycah #the freys #walder frey #catelyn stark

[m4rkshouse]

92 truths

rules: answer these 92 statements and tag people

tagged by @artist-aroha, hey kat thanks for tagging me! <3

this is highkey so long but if for some reason you decide to read the whole thing just hit the keep reading :)

the last: 1. drink: uhh water i think?? 2. phone call: my mom according to my phone but i can’t remember why 3. text message: “ya girl cut half her hair off” along with a photo of me bc i cut my hair real short today, to a groupchat i have with my irl friends 4. song you listened to: i’m listening to river and spout by rusty clanton as i write this so 5. time you cried: last night bc i read the stars come out to smile by vonseal and cried real hard 

have you: 6. dated someone twice: haven’t even dated someone once so nope 7. kissed someone and regretted it: i also haven’t even kissed someone so NOPE 8. been cheated on: *points to the dated someone twice question* 9. lost someone special: yes siree, life sucks 10. been depressed: uh yeah,,, 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: technically i’m not the legal drinking age in canada so no (but also *winks bc secrecy* no)

list 3 favourite colours:  12-14. purple, green, nd white 

in the last year have you: 15. made new friends: yes omg shoutout to aroha tumblr for being the greatest nd allowing me to make a bunch of new friends :’) 16. fallen out of love: nope  17. laughed until you cried: yes it’s happened a few times, youtube vids crack me up 18. found out someone was talking about you: uhh yeah actually nd it was someone i thought i was chill with, it was v awkward  19. met someone who changed you: umm not particularly??  20. found out who your friends are: this one confused me a lil?? i guess so?? idk 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: *points to the kissing question from before*

general:  22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: i’ve never had a facebook so i’ll use instagram and say most if not all 23. do you have any pets: yes i have the cutest dog ever, his name is charlie, and he’s a shitzu yorkie cross nd the love of my life :’) 24. do you want to change your name: not really?? i actually really like my name tbh 25. what did you do for your last birthday: went out w my pals for dinner, it was v fun 26. what time did you wake up: at like 8:30 but i didn’t get out of bed until 10:00 whoops 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: i think i was sleeping which is v rare normally i’m up until all hours of the night bc what is a sleep schedule 28. name something you can’t wait for: maybe day6′s super super close comeback?? or astro’s next comeback?? both i guess!  29. when was the last time you saw your mum: like 5 minutes ago when i went to my basement 30. what is the one thing in your life you wish you could change: my motivation,,, i need some to actually exist tbh like i have none it’s bad 31. what are you listening to right now: like,,, as in right this second?? bc then it’s novels by rusty clanton aka my fave song by rusty (can you tell i’m listening to rusty as i write this??) 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: uhh yeah like last month (??) when i was volunteering i met this super cute dude named tom who was really nice 33. something that is getting on your nerves: my inability to write chapter 2 of asterism  34. most visited website: umm maybe youtube or tumblr?? i would guess youtube but i’ve been spending a lot of time on tumblr recently

lost questions. i just put in random info about me:  35. mole/s: i have one like right under my lips like jinjin lol 36. mark/s: i have this weird mark on my finger from a bee sting i got like 7 years ago  37. childhood dream: i wanted to be a musician/singer so bad omg  38. hair colour: a weird brown that sometimes looks super dark but it’s really not 39. long or short hair: i just cut literally half my hair off earlier so short :’) 40. do you have a crush on someone: nah not right now 41. what do you like about yourself: my intelligence tbh, like that sounds weird/conceited but it’s not meant to be ajkdl 42. piercings: i just have my ears pierced  43. blood type: i actually don’t know but i wish i did 44. nickname: i have a bunch?? like most of my friends call me chels, but my one super good friend calls me chel nd i love him for it :’) 45. relationship status: single as HECK  46. zodiac: sagittarius  47. pronouns: she/her 48. favourite tv show: tied between fresh prince of bel air, how i met your mother, and criminal minds 49. tattoos: zero  50. right or left hand: right hand  51. surgery: nope and i hope i never have to bc it highkey scares me 52. hair dyed a different colour: nope bc i’m scared of damaging it idk i’m weird man 53. sport: i don’t play sports at all bc exercise hates me but i do adore watching them; i watch basketball, hockey, soccer, baseball, football, etc etc 54/55. there isn’t ones?? 56. pair of trainers: ?? i have nike ones???

more general:  57. eating: i had chocolate earlier 58. drinking: like drinking?? it’s against the law for me to so no i guess 59. i’m about to: finish this and then work on a fic (hopefully lol) 60. waiting for: school to start bc i actually really enjoy it nd i can’t wait to go back on tuesday 61. want to: read my collection of shakespeare plays i bought the other day/reread gatsby bc i bought that too 62. get married: that’ll be cool when it eventually occurs 63. career: ,,,,,please,,, i am only 16 and like 9 months,,, i need more time,,,,

which is better:  64. doesn’t exist i guess 65. hugs or kisses: hugs maybe?? 66. lips or eyes: eyes 110% 67. shorter or taller: i’m gonna go with taller bc i’m tall  68. older or younger: doesn’t matter to me??  69. also does not exist  70. nice arms or nice stomach: nice personality  71: sensitive or loud: idk how this means?? i guess loud but i’m confused yikes 72. hook up or relationship: relationship  73. troublemaker or hesitant: hella hesitant bc i hate getting in trouble for stuff

have you ever: 74. kissed a stranger: no siree  75. drank hard liquor: it’s illegal,,, so,,, ofc not,,,,, 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: too many times send help i am the queen of losing things 77. turned someone down: yes 78. sex on the first date: i haven’t even kissed someone yet i am too innocent for this  79. broken someone’s heart: i don’t think so??  80. had your heart broken: yes 81. been arrested: nope 82. cried when someone died: YES, CURSE YOU JOHN GREEN, AUGUSTUS DESERVED BETTER DSHJS 83. fallen for a friend: umm yes

do you believe in:  84. yourself: maybe when it comes to like,, playing guitar or something,, otherwise idk but i probably should whoops 85. miracles: maybe?? 86. love at first sight: not really?? like,, love is about a whole person nd love at first sight is about looks idk i won’t get into it  87. santa claus: no :/ 88. kiss on the first date: up to the person on the date tbh, you do you fam 89. angels: idk??

other:  90. current best friends name: i don’t really have one?? idk 91. eye colour: sometimes green sometimes really light brown sometimes both 92. favourite movie: i have a lot but probably either breakfast club or ferris bueller’s day off

if you read this far then you really deserve a prize nd shoutout to you for that :’)

I’m tagging anyone who wants to do it! just tag me and go for it :)

#i'm sorry i flop at tagging people #so i'm just not gonna do it on this one #thank you for tagging me though kat!! #tagged #chels chatters #also the augustus thing was first in my mind bc i watched tfios the other day #v good movie/book but holy heck it is SAD

[romcomathon2016]

Brown Sugar (USA, 2002)

Predictions: Well, we had to look this movie up because it was a replacement/suggestion movie, so Kat remembered the plot and could not make a prediction. Alex, happily, had totally forgotten, so she predicted that this movie was about two rival pastry chefs who fall in love despite their competing businesses.

Plot: Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan first discover their mutual love of hip-hop as children. Flash forward almost twenty years, and Sanaa Lathan is now the hip-hop reviewer for the LA Times, while Taye Diggs works at a big record label in New York. They are still best friends, and Sanaa Lathan is moving back to New York to be the editor-in-chief of a...hip-hop magazine?? (Note: we know nothing about hip-hop, so a lot of this movie was a little beyond us.) She's also, on the side, apparently, writing a book about her love of "hip-hop" (read: Taye Diggs).

They reunite at a party, where Taye Diggs also decides to propose to his fancy lawyer girlfriend, whom he met like a hot second ago. Fancy Lawyer Girlfriend is beautiful, but Sanaa Lathan is like, idk, this seems like a bad idea, no reason, just normal friend feelings that I have. And Taye Diggs is like, WHAT? You're totally mistaken! She's perfect. So he marries her. But not before he and Sanaa Lathan accidentally make out, whoops. How might that accidentally happen, one wonders? Maybe because every time they hug it's like, for an hour. Normal friend stuff.

Anyway, then Sanaa Lathan starts going out with a basketball player (who has hilarious aspirations of being a rapper, side note), and they get engaged, and Taye Diggs is not psyched, even though he is still married. Meanwhile, Taye Diggs -- tired of being a sell-out -- has quit his job to start his own record label, a venture that Sanaa Lathan fully supports, but Fancy Lawyer Wife does not. But maybe this is partly because Taye Diggs did not consult Fancy Lawyer Wife in the slightest before quitting his job, and then after he did quit immediately ran off to talk to Sanaa Lathan about it, instead of his spouse. Also, maybe his wife supported the idea of him having, you know, any money ever. Whaaaaat.

Eventually, Taye Diggs catches Fancy Lawyer Wife cheating on him, so that marriage falls apart, and Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan do some normal friend stuff to cope with it. By which we mean, they have sex. Taye Diggs, who has always been into Sanaa Lathan, is like, OBVIOUSLY THIS IS HOW IT WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!!!! But Sanaa Lathan is like, nope, jk, still marrying Basketball Player. They do not talk for a while, as you might imagine. But she ends up breaking off her engagement anyway, because Basketball Player is not as dumb as he seemed and knows she's, like, just not that into him. Sanaa Lathan rushes to find Taye Diggs, but she unfortunately conveniently spots him sharing a moment with Fancy Lawyer Ex-Wife, so...that scuppers that.

Then one day, Sanaa Lathan publishes her book and is on the radio promoting it -- coincidentally on the same radio program that Taye Diggs's client Mos Def's song is debuting on -- and Taye Diggs hears her talking about her love of "hip-hop," aka him. He calls in, and they confess their love for each other via the phone, while he rushes to the station in a cab. They make up (and out) (obv).

Best Scene: So, there was a whole subplot with Taye Diggs wanting to sign Mos Def and Mos Def being like, eh, pass; but then, after Taye Diggs quits the sell-out label, they become pals. Mos Def joins Taye Diggs at a New Year's party at Queen Latifah's (so many famous music people in this movie, you guys...!), and Basketball Player confesses to Mos Def that he harbors dreams of being a rapper. Would Mos Def be Basketball Player’s mentor???? Mos Def does not want to. Mos Def judges Basketball Player real hard. It's funny.

Worst Scene: At the sell-out label, Taye Diggs was forced to work with a black/white duo that called themselves the "Hip-Hop Dalmatians." Every time they appeared on screen, we were just like...no. Just no.

Best Line: "Oh, shit, we ain't never gonna eat now." -- Mos Def, voicing what we, too, would feel, if we were at a party at Queen Latifah's with wings and crab cakes, and suddenly total stranger Basketball Player was like, hey everyone, I'm gonna propose now, before dinner. NO. FOOD FIRST.

Worst Line: Ummmm. While Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan's friendship was very charming, their declarations of romance often left something to be desired. Just...too cheesy. So hard to choose a line. So many of them were so cheesy. Also, everything said by the Hip-Hop Dalmatians was abominable.

Highlights of the Watching Experience: Well, tbh, it was just nice to watch a true romcom starring black people that was not horrible. While we might not really have been its target audience (see: total lack of hip-hop knowledge), we still appreciated sighting many of our pet romcom tropes in the wild: people pretending to be just friends when they're clearly in love, people acting like a couple and then being shocked that other people perceive them that way, and our new fave, the super-long platonic hug.

How Many POC in the Film: Almost everyone, and good-looking ones, too. Hooray!

Alternate Scenes: Here's the thing about romcoms. There's always the good part of the romcom (the part with them hanging out together, denying their feelings) and the whatever part of the romcom (the part with their job subplot, or whatever). This movie was maybe a touch heavy on the latter, although we did greatly enjoy Mos Def. We also wished that there had been a little more "com" to go with the "rom" between Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan. Perhaps a few more scenes with them charmingly bantering, rather than being so moody and troubled.

Was the Poster Better or Worse than the Film: Probably worse. The poster, while charmingly autumnal in its color scheme, raises some questions. Specifically, okay, at first you just think she's hugging him from behind -- how cute! Are they a couple? Are they friends? Look at Taye Diggs in his classy V-neck! But then, upon closer inspection...WHAT is Sanaa Lathan doing with her leg?? Wow, guys. This is some totally normal, platonic shit.

Score: 6.5 out of 10 platonic smooches. This movie disappointed us slightly, because the premise (two friends who are clearly in love, and everyone but them knows it) is one of our favorite tropes, but the execution was not as delightful as we might have hoped. It was...definitely a romcom, and yet some of the scenes had shades of romantic drama, which was weird. Occasionally it felt like Taye Diggs and Mos Def were starring in a romantic comedy, while Sanaa Lathan was auditioning for a moody indie film. Nonetheless, a solid score and a reasonably entertaining platonic makeout-fest.

Ranking: 20, out of the 80 movies we’ve seen so far. Not bad! While we were slightly bored at times, at least they actually got together, unlike in How to Be Single. (What garbage. Still mad.)

#brown sugar #taye diggs #sanaa lathan #2002

[critrolesketch]

A list of my D&D characters that no one asked for.

I won’t be offended if you don’t continue reading. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Reference?

Torga Ironfist- Pretty sure she is a Life Domain Cleric, Dwarven, and used to be an adventurer before a Lich killed half her party and she decided to hang up the armor and work as a weapon maker. She gets real antsy though and is always looking to join up with a group again. I’ve only played her once.

Therlynn- Basically everything I just really wanted to be my first go through in D&D. Inspired by Keyleth, she is an half-elven outlander who’s tribe lost their home because some assholes started to destroy her forest (Think businessmen tearing down some really cool property to make a parking garage scenario). Circle of the moon Druid who really likes to be a wolf. She sings sea shanties, curses a whole lot, and is basically me when I’m too hyper. Played her for...7 sessions? maybe a little more.

Darren Rookson- Half-orc life cleric who I just describe as the cool nurse at the kid’s cancer ward. He loves his town, his friends, and his family, and is pretty sensitive. He doesn’t really like to fight much, preferring to heal. He was the result of me trying to try out support classes. About 6 sessions.

Raymond Fallow- The first, my Human Ranger who looked like Ruby Rose and had a mountain lion animal companion. She could have had a really good story, but my DM just threw us into the shittiest of situations and she got traumatized, saw a party member straight up kill a kid, blamed herself for it, and then had to mercy kill her mountain lion after it got stabbed and I rolled real bad to remove the sword. She hung herself (I did it for drama, but it was just a bad move) and she came back as a zombie druid. I don’t know if I will ever use her again, but I’m definitely redoing the character if she ever interests me. 10 sessions tops.

Minnow- My current D&D character who I play on sundays. I’ve mentioned her before. She is a Tiefling Bard who is...pretty much me when I’m hyper, but a bit more eloquent and confident about it. I love her to bits and she is a great counter balance to her best bud and partner in crime, Wilma the halting Rogue. Yep, me and my GF and the Rouge and Bard duo. Fight us. Ongoing.

Ryan Galanodel-McAurther- My other bard that I have only played twice, but she is pretty cool. A half-elf noble with a Human Lord father and a Elven mother. She grew up with her father, decided to head out on her own, made amends with a mother she was previously venomous with (hence the double last name), got captured while traveling and had her best friend killed in front of her, escaped from a crime lord, and set up shop in a city where she became the leader of a cast of characters known as The Clean-Up Crew. (It’s like a Minutemen concept with the city being a hot spot for random portals to open up in. She gets word that something is causing havoc, she and whoever can respond head over to solve the problem. It was a cool game to play because it meant she knew everyone who just joined the game and had hired them, making them part of the party, but people could be absent from the campaign whenever they wanted to. It was a sit down and pull up a chair whenever scenario. Just give me a reason to hire you.) 2 sessions.

Character on the back burner

Lia Wesson- My human monk sailor character I honestly think I was inspired to make after Captain Adella appeared on Critical Role. I legit forget having created her. Whoops.

Joan Dotsk- Human Wizard. She was a professor, but was falsely accused of a crime and is on the run. Paranoid, Cowardly, and is probably going to be proficient in abjuration magic. She is on hold in case I want to dabble with an arcane caster.

Roran Maria Elizabeth Cadenza Krause V- Shamelessly showing my Percival inspiration here. And honestly, she really is just Percy, but with shit charisma. Human fighter, duel wielding short swords and a badass sense of fashion. What can I say. Imagine her being a Mary-Sue, the youngest of her family, but the poor thing can’t talk her way through any conversation without embarrassing herself. Like, her Charisma is six. I’ll buff up her backstory to be as ridiculously self indulgent as I want if my girl can’t talk to anyone normally. 

And lastly the one I’m most excited to use.

Val Ganderstim- Aasimar Warlock, pact of the Raven Queen. I’m just...the aesthetic my dudes! Picture the RQ’s dark divine energy, and then picture black divine wings instead of white ones and I’m just...dying? Raven companion to watch over her, and pretty much obsessed with the Raven Queen. Any chance she gets, she is singing the good queen’s praises and just trying to do her best to fulfill her patrons wishes. She’ll probably trip over everything along the way though.

#personal characters #D&D characters #just me being weird #now you know

[twotoned2marta22-blog]

ONE (1) WHOLE EMPATHY ==>

[[ logs with @carnivalsorphans​, trolling npcs Aradia and Feferi. Aradia is not the troll getting or giving one (1) whole empathy. ]]

-- cataclysmicSwing [CS] began trolling carnivalsOrphans [CO] --

cataclysmicSwing he d0esnt kn0w fire dancing at all, d0es he all ive seen is menti0ns 0f aerial silks

carnivalsOrphans no, he don't. he don't go hunting, neither, he just waits for others to get too close. you're a fuckin moron and you deserved ta get caught.

cataclysmicSwing yeah, uh huh, g0t that last time just wanted t0 c0nfirm, seeing as y0ure apparently his ment0r

carnivalsOrphans i teach him silks and in exchange he gives me horns and bones.

cataclysmicSwing awes0me anyway, c0ngratulati0ns y0ur student w0nt be missing practice, y0ure welc0me, g00d night

-- cataclysmicSwing [CS] ceased trolling carnivalsOrphans [CO] --

carnivalsOrphans > That was probably a threat. Stupid fuckin coward can't even stick around long enough to have it make sense.

cataclysmicSwing > She’s equipping the Captor’s block with aerial silks. Ominous.

carnivalsOrphans > Well, time to troll someone else.

-- carnivalsOrphans [CO] began trolling crownCuller [CC] --

carnivalsOrphans heard ya might be busy and ya might wanna stop bein busy for a few minutes

crownCuller > Feferi has finished her sixth business meeting of the night, hasn’t slept more than ten minutes at a time in over a week, had coffee spilled on her very heat-sensitive hands, and an unfamiliar account is messaging her personal, private handle. > She rubs her face, takes a breath, and tells herself to think sweet thoughts.

38? S)(ello, w)(o is t)(is? Very busy IND--E--ED boat alwaves )(ave t)(e time to kelp!

carnivalsOrphans i ain't completely decided yet. either an enemy, or someone who'll leave ya the fuck alone that all depends on what ya tell me glad you is so eager to help

crownCuller )(m. You )(ave a finteresting wave of intunaducing yours)(elf!

carnivalsOrphans > Goddamnit, this ain't the time to be charmed by fish puns.

yeah, i like to think so

crownCuller W)(ale, let's sea w)(at we can do )(ere, s)(ell we? W)(at seams to be t)(e probubblem?

carnivalsOrphans you got sollux captor you intend ta use him to further your cause

crownCuller O)(... You must be t)(at clown Aradia was telling me aboat. Ringleader, fis)(n't it?

carnivalsOrphans ;o)

crownCuller I'd rat)(er avoid issues if posseabubble. Too muc)( fig)(ting foar bad reasfins, don't you sink?

carnivalsOrphans depends on ya reasons, honestly so what are they

crownCuller Sollux Captor is a crus)(oal part of our plan to OV--ERTHROW AND R--EHAUL TH--E --ENTIR--E --EMPIR--E.

carnivalsOrphans well no shit

crownCuller Fin fact, we acs)(oally can't do it wit)(out )(im. W)(ic)( is )(onestly terreefble.

carnivalsOrphans i got mixed feelings on rebellion. your job, this exact second, is convince me the overhaul is gonna be somethin worth fightin for.

crownCuller W)(ale... If seaccussfully ac)(ieved, t)(e over)(aul would lead to t)(e abeelishment of t)(e caste difis)(ion structure. Jobs, poseations, AMBOC--EANS TH--EMS)(--ELV--ES, will naut be controlled by a troll's color. T)(e constant fig)(ting wit)(fin and wit)(out our seaciety will also be put to a )(ALT. Troops pulled out of conflict wit)( other species, eelstablis)(ing peace treaties, acs)(oally utilizing our resources to repair our own struggling economy, end slavery, bring war criminals to account and ideelly atone foar t)(eir crimes wit)(out addoceanal suffering...

carnivalsOrphans that's a lotta ideals and just what are you willing ta do, to make this all come about?

crownCuller W)(ale, yes. And I've been planning on )(ow to make t)(em )(appen foar quite some time. W)(at I going to do is take )(--ER out mys)(elf, wit)(out risking ot)(er potentieel casualties. But t)(ere is no seanario w)(ere I can win, and no seanario that an army will either.

carnivalsOrphans so you're willing ta put someone who didn't ask for this shit on the front line

crownCuller T)(is is w)(ere t)(e discovery of lime psi came in, aboat... o)( s)(ell, seamw)(ere over t)(irty sweeps back? Sollux is unfortunately t)(e only one we've gotten wit)( t)(e correct type. )(e was meant to be finformed of t)(is a long time ago, boat w)(en )(e came to me, t)(e Sufferists )(iding in my )(ive scared him off befoar we could meet. T)(--EN of course )(e )(as been understandably paranoid, and kills any w)(o try to find )(im. I )(ad )(oped )(e would calm in time, but it's too close by now.

carnivalsOrphans so has he ever agreed?

crownCuller 38/ I just said )(e )(asn't been finformed.

carnivalsOrphans and so the best way ta inform him was to put out a hit on him, fail to kidnap him, and then succeed to kidnap him, injurin him in the process? what happens if he don't agree?

crownCuller T)(en again, )(e may )(ave known somefin befoar! I w)(ale admit I was not fin charge of monitoring. T)(ere are a lot of fins going on at once )(ere. If )(e says no?

carnivalsOrphans ta bein part of this

crownCuller W)(ale, we'll find out, won't we. I've been told )(e woke up a little w)(ale ago acs)(oally, would you like me to pass on any message from you?

carnivalsOrphans no, tell me. what are you gonna do if he says no

crownCuller Sea w)(at it is )(e isn't understanding, of course!

carnivalsOrphans and what if he still don't wanna?

crownCuller Sollux is a troll w)(o agrees wit)( w)(at makes sense to )(im. T)(is plan will, )(e's )(alf of t)(e trolls we tailored our plan to.

carnivalsOrphans and what if he says 'fuck you, i don't wanna do this because you kidnapped me and hurt me' what if he just wants ta be left alone? what if he ain't reasonable?

crownCuller )(e's V--ERY W--ELCOM--E to take t)(at up wit)( Aradia.

carnivalsOrphans i'm not talkin about aradia. i'm talkin about you

crownCuller S)(e is an aggressive troll, and )(e's learned to be, so it's more t)(an a bit diseastrous! 38(

carnivalsOrphans oh no oh no, people don't like bein kidnapped they get aggressive if they are taken forcibly from their hive :o(

crownCuller )(e wasn't S--EAPPOS--ED to be kidnapped, good gracious.

carnivalsOrphans well, then what do you know about the teal? you are the LEADER, you ain't supposed ta just go 'oh yeah, my rail did it, i didn't mean it that weren't me'. she did it for you, you gotta take responsibility he's got every fuckin RIGHT ta take anythin up with you

crownCuller W)(ale of course )(e does.

carnivalsOrphans 'he's very welcome to take that up with aradia' ain't that what i just read with my own two ganderorbs?

crownCuller I didn't reelize every word I say )(as to )(ave footnotes foar all t)(e extra comments. 38/

carnivalsOrphans you're a LEADER YOU'RE GONNA BE A QUEEN GET FUCKIN USED TO IT.

crownCuller > “Holy nook-fucking pitch goddesses, does he really think I’m as diligent with disclaimers in private as I am in public. Dumbass.” > The troll bringing her an iced tea looks startled. Feferi gushes apologies and charm. Now, for the dumbass.

T)(at is already w)(at I do on t)(e nig)(tly baseas, and I've been told it's annoyfin to add paragraphs of detailed explanocean to every comment in private conc)(versation! T)(is is a private conc)(versation fis)(n't it? 38( If you wanted an offis)(oal talk you s)(oald )(ave gone foar my business )(andle.

carnivalsOrphans whoops didn't care enough. what happens to sollux if he don't want to help you. ignore the reasons why, just assume full stop he don't wanna help and it ain't gonna change least not without the kinda persuasion that comes from somethin other than words

crownCuller You are talking aboat a 1% posseability )(ere.

carnivalsOrphans this ain't about him. this is about you, and what you're willin to do to achieve your goals

crownCuller We aren't going to TORTUR--E )(IM W--E DON'T DO THAT H--ER--E.

carnivalsOrphans then what will you do?

crownCuller Talk!

carnivalsOrphans and if that don't work? if all he wants to do is be let go?

crownCuller T)(en )(e can go after.

carnivalsOrphans if he don't WANT TO HELP if he wants to be let go right then

crownCuller I cannaut t)(row away t)(e lives of TRILLIONS, foar one troll t)(at says no. I cannaut allow one s)(ellfis)( decision spell out t)(e end foar everyone else. If t)(ere was ANY ot)(er way foar me to take, I would. But t)(ere isn't, and )(e will know t)(at.

carnivalsOrphans so despite the fact you're sayin you ain't gonna force him ta do nothin, you are willing you gonna be willing after you win?

crownCuller W)(at?

carnivalsOrphans you gonna be willing ta do that sorta shit 'for the greater good'? forcin people to do what they don't want to do?

crownCuller If t)(at is w)(at it takes to stop trolls foam destroying worlds? Destroying our own? Yes. T)(at is w)(at leaders )(ave to carry.

carnivalsOrphans what about after that, what about after you gain peace?

crownCuller If Sollux isn't t)(ere, I will die, every troll under my protection will die, and t)(e slaug)(ter across t)(e galaxies will continue as Alternia falls apart.

carnivalsOrphans when do you stop bein willing?

crownCuller You don't G--ET to stop.

carnivalsOrphans > Gods, he is being reminded far too much of his pitchmate for comfort.

do your troops know you're willing ta do this?

crownCuller I'm naut the ideelist you keep accusing me of being. I've watc)(ed t)(e suffering drag out for longer than most land-dwelling trolls get to live. I know I don't get to put t)(is burden down once I've picked it up.

carnivalsOrphans i ain't ACCUSIN YOU of shit i'm askin you

crownCuller But Sollux? )(is part ends w)(en I step into t)(e audience )(all, and I will never ask )(im of anyt)(ing again. Even if I still fail wit)( )(is )(elp, I've made certain t)(at )(e will get out un)(armed. My troops know, yes. T)(ey've been tasked wit)( evacuating t)(e rest of my trolls in t)(e event t)(at I fail. And I can only )(ope t)(ey'll be able to run fast enough.

carnivalsOrphans no, i'm talkin willin to force someone to do shit for you

crownCuller As often as I am faced wit)( t)(at decision and as often as t)(ere is no way around it, I will take t)(at decision.

carnivalsOrphans ya know this is basically pale rape, right? what you're makin him do?

crownCuller Yes. And I will naut try to fool )(im into sinking ot)(erwise.

carnivalsOrphans you tried tellin your moirail that?

crownCuller S)(e's gotten... desperate. And I do naut condone what s)(e's done out of that desperation. W)(en a fig)(t )(as taken up your entire life, I can eelmagine it's )(ard to keep your pan sorted.

carnivalsOrphans > He thinks of his church. Of how much stronger they are together, how they keep each other strong with that support.

crownCuller Foar now though, Sollux is )(ere, and w)(ale )(urt from an explosion II cannaut let )(im go wandering off. Again, do you want me to tell )(im anyfin foar you? I am naut going to be seaing )(im foar a couple moar nig)(ts boat I w)(ale try to pass it on. And as my fis)(ter mig)(t say, tell Aradia to "c)(ill t)(e s)(ell out."

> Long silence. Feferi downs her iced tea.

38? S)(ello? Ringleader?

carnivalsOrphans yeah, i'm around the fact that she's so desperate is somethin you should be helpin with, as her rail. and as her leader.

crownCuller > Annnnnd there goes the glass. 

Buoy... getting finto someone s)(ellse's private life is a lot moar t)(an w)(at c)(ecking in on yoar friend requires. I've been open in ot)(er ways, please leave t)(e one private t)(ing I )(ave alone. (W)(ic)( does also mean to stop reading our logs. I'm assumfin t)(at's )(ow you got my finformation.)

carnivalsOrphans sis, that's advice, from someone about a thousand times older than you. if she's desperate, you're failing her, and you need ta help. that's about the only good thing you're gettin from me, so you better take it. or not, i don't really care, it ain't my fuckin life.

crownCuller Was t)(ere or was t)(ere naut anyfin you wanted me to tell Sollux?

carnivalsOrphans i'd rather be able ta actually talk to him ya know. myself.

crownCuller W)(at am I seapposed to say, "Yoar mentor Ringleader )(as been messaging us but doesn't want to tell you anyfin." Yikes, orcay. I need to SL--E--EP befoar I get crankier.

carnivalsOrphans that shouldn't be a hard request. just tell your rail ta give his palmhusk back, considerin she stole it and talked ta me on it which is a bit above and beyond kidnappin, if ya ask me

crownCuller T)(e palm)(usk isn't working, s)(e said. Largely broken, s)(e's trying to transfer it to a moar seacure device.

carnivalsOrphans uhuh. then ya know. she should get right on that. breakin other people's shit is rude.

crownCuller )(e's t)(e one w)(o decided to blow up t)(e cliff! All )(is fins would )(ave been brought )(ere fintact ot)(erwaves. Fin any case. I )(ave moar meetings to get to, and work on top of that. If you have moar questfins talk to Aradia. Good lig)(t.

carnivalsOrphans good light

-- crownCuller [CC] has ceased trolling carnivalsOrphans [CO] --

#[[ is ringleader trying to help? we just don't know ]] #logs #!npc #Event: Hotel Fuchsiafornia #mentions of: #torture // #injury // #pale rape //

[thetaekswoon]

My Answers to 100 Questions

So technically I wasn’t tagged to do this, but I have been seeing it around and it seems fun and like a good way for people to get to know each other, so I wanted to do it.

When did I first started listening to kpop? - I first was introduced to kpop with the YouTubers React to KPOP and it was actually EXO’s Overdose that originally got me into the genre and I’m going to say that was around 2 years ago?  Then around a year ago, I saw my friend dance to KPOP songs and thought it was awesome and that exposed me to GOT7′s Just Right and BTS’s Dope, but then this previous year I couldn’t stop thinking about Dope and somehow found VIXX’s Chained Up and that was the song and group that I fell head-first into this mess with.

First group I listened to/liked? - As I said above I really liked Overdose, but GOT7 was the first group that I looked up their names and I immediately liked Mark, so technically Mark was the first bias I ever had.

Do you prefer boy groups or girl groups? - Boy groups, but recently I’ve been listening to some girl groups as well.

Favorite female group? - Red Velvet (I also really like Blackpink)

Favorite male group? - VIXX (Though BTS is an incredibly close second, I’m just incredibly loyal)

Favorite female solo artist? - Hyuna? (I don’t really listen to any solo artists, but I’m open for suggestions!)

Favorite male solo artist? - GDragon and Eric Nam

Top 3 Groups? 1. VIXX 2. BTS 3. ASTRO

Favorite Kpop Song? - FIRE by BTS

Favorite Kpop happy song? - Just Right by GOT7 + Highlight by Seventeen

Favorite Kpop sad song? - Stigma by BTS (Kim Taehyung)

Favorite kpop smut song? - Chained Up by VIXX

Favorite KPop song of 2017 so far? - Not Today by BTS + 1.2.3 by B.I.G

Favorite debut? - Knock by KNK

Favorite debut of 2017 so far? - Haven’t seen any yet... whoops.

Favorite mv of 2017 so far? - Never Ever by GOT7 (Though I loved Spring Day + Not Today by BTS, I was surprised more by Never Ever)

Favorite mv? - Fantasy by VIXX + I NEED U by BTS

Favorite album/mini album? - The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Young Forever (BTS)

Favorite album/mini album or 2017 so far? - WIngs: You Never Walk Alone (BTS)

Your bias group? - VIXX

Your ultimate bias? - Leo (Jung Taekwoon) from VIXX 

Favorite GIF of your ultimate bias? - Um... tbh I don’t think I have one?  He looks cute all the time.

Favorite picture of your ultimate bias?

Favorite thing about your bias? - I really like how much Leo has grown since debut, I mean he used to be really quiet but now he is comfortable and talks and makes jokes and I’m so proud.

Was he your bias from the start? - Yep :)

Your top 10 biases?   1. Leo - VIXX 2. Jungkook - BTS 3. Rocky - ASTRO 4. Hongbin - VIXX 5. V - BTS 6. Mark - GOT7 7. Minhyuk - Monsta X 8. Wonho - Monsta X 9. Ten - NCT U 10. Ken - VIXX

Have you ever changed biases more than 3 times in what group? - Yeah totally.

If so; what group and what members? - When I first started to watch BTS videos I liked Jin, but then when I got into them I had Rapmonster as my bias, and then it was Suga, but now it is Jungkook (And tbh V is driving me insane he’s the worst bias wrecker)

Favorite Ship? - Wontaek + Vkook + Markson

Do you ship the “mom & dad” in your favorite group? - Nope!  Neo is cute, but Wontaek stole my heart.

Who’s the mom and dad in your favorite group? - Leo (Jung Taekwoon) + N (Cha Hakyeon)

Who do you end up liking more in groups; Leaders, Maknaes, mood makers, vocal, rap, “mom”, “dad”, english speaker, drummer, guitarist, pianist? - Vocalists + visuals, but I really don’t follow any kind of pattern.

If your bias got a girlfriend/boyfriend how would you feel? - I’d cry out of pure happiness, they deserve the world and I’m sure finding love as an idol is incredibly difficult, so if Leo found someone and they made it public that would mean that they really meant something to him, and I’d just cry for the happy couple.

How would you feel if your bias came out gay/lesbian/bisexual/etc.? - I really don’t like this question tbh because it’s our jobs as fans to support our biases through thick and thin, and being gay is nothing to be ashamed of, but this question kind of makes it sound like people would stop supporting their bias if they were, those people aren’t real fans.

Do you think any kpop idols are gay/lesbian/bisexual/etc.? - I have a few in mind, but I don’t actually go out of my way to figure these kinds of things out or stereotype people, it’s just a vibe I get from them.

If so; who? - N (Cha Hakyeon) from VIXX 

Top 3 favorite groups 1. VIXX 2. BTS 3. ASTRO

Favorite kpop blog? - @jinxkook 

Favorite kpop scenario blog? - @vixx17andbtsimagines​, we don’t talk, but they’re blog is incredible, their aus are out of this world and they never fail to come up with new and original material.  Such and inspiration.

Favorite kpop smut blog? - @btssmutgalore

Favorite Kpop fanfic? - Comeback Kids by rix on AO3

Favorite show with kpop idols? - Weekly Idol

Do you prefer saying “Oppa” or being called “Noona”? - Honestly don’t prefer either, and calling someone “oppa” weirds me out a little bit, just because of the sexual context it’s often applied to.

Is is cuter when KPop Idols know your language or don’t know it and try to speak it? - I think it’s really sexy when an idol knows English, but it’s really cute when they try to use it and practice.

BIGBANG: “Bang Bang Bang” or “We like 2 Party?” - Bang Bang Bang

iKon: “#WYD” or “Rhythm Ta”? - Rhythm Ta (but I just think it’s catchy I’m not a big fan of ikon)

Monsta X: “Perfect Girl” or “All in”? - All In

BTS: “Save Me” or “Fire”? - FIRE

EXO: “Monster” or “Growl?” - Monster

Astro: “Breathless” or “Hide&Seek”? - Breathless

Red Velvet vs. EXID: “Ice Cream Cake” or “Up & Down”? - Up & Down by EXID, but I like Red Velvet better.

4Minute: “Crazy” or “Hate”? - Crazy

NCT U vs NCT 127: “The 7th Sense” or “Fire Truck”? - The 7th Sense

Got7: “Just Right” or “Fly”? - Just Right

Amber vs Ailee: “Borders” or “Insane”? - I haven’t heard either tbh...

FTISLAND: “Take Me Now” or “Pray”? - Take Me Now

History: “Queen” or “Might Just Die”? - Queen 

KNK: “Knock” or “Back Again”? - Knock

Day6: “Congratulations” or “Letting Go”? - Congratulations

Block B: “Her” or “Toy” - Her

ZICO: “I am You, You are Me” or “Boys And Girls”? - I haven’t heard either...

B.A.P: “Feel So Good” or “Young, Wild & Free?” - Feel So Good

Seventeen: “Nice Very Nice” or “Adore U”? - Nice Very Nice

Taeyeon: “I (feat Verbal Jint)” or “Why”? - I (feat Verbal Jint)

G-Dragon Vs. Taeyang: “Who you?” or “Eyes, Nose, Lips” - Eyes, Nose, Lips

BTS: “The Most Beautiful Moment In Life Series” or “Dark & Wild”? - The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Series

Day6: “The Day” or “DAYDREAM?” - I haven’t heard either, but I want to listen and hopefully stan Day6 soon.

BIGBANG: “A” or “M” - M

Monsta X: “The Clan, Pt.1 <LOST>” or “Rush”? - The Clan, Pt.1 <LOST>

Seventeen: “Boys Be” or “First Love&Letter”? - First Love&Letter

EXO: “Ex’ACT” or “Love Me Right”? - Love Me Right

Astro: “Spring Up” or “Summer Vibes”? - Spring Up

Vixx: “Chained Up” or “Error”? - Chained Up

EXO or BTS? - BTS

SISTAR or Red Velvet? - Red Velvet

NCT U or NCT 127? - NCT 127 (I love Ten so much, but I like NCT 127 music a little more)

Girls’ Day or Girls Generation? - Girls Generation

Seventeen or GOT7? - GOT7

Winner or iKon? - Winner

Block B or Beast? - Block B

Romeo or Astro? - ASTRO

Jimin or Jungkook? - Jungkook

Xiumin or Chanyeol? - Chanyeol

Taeyeon or Ailee? - Taeyeon

Jay Park or Dean? - Jay Park

G-Dragon or Taeyang? - G Dragon

Amber or Henry? - Amber

Wooshin or Hwanhee (up10tion)? - I don’t really listen to UP10TION...

Jeonghan or Dino? - Dino

Taemin or Jonghyun? - Taemin

Seulgi or Irene? - Seulgi

Got7: Markson or Markjin? - Markson

Red Velvet: JoyGi or WenRi - WenRi

BTS: VKook or JiKook? - VKOOK VKOOK VKOOK

EXO: Hunhan or Kaisoo? - Hunhan

Monsta X: Showhyuk or Jookyun? - Showhyuk 

Topp Dogg: Hanjoo or Xenissi? - I’m not really a Topp Dogg stan so I don’t know their names and such.

NCT: TaeTen or JaeYong? - Um... JohnTen

Seventeen: Meanie or Jeongcheol? - Meanie

iKon: Double B or Double J (Junhwan)? - I’m not a fan of ikon.

So this is a lot of questions, but it’s not that bad haha.  I tag @harmonix, @hakyeon-go-go, @jinxkook, @n-chanted, @i-wontaek-your-shit, and @hobi-oppa