#courtney short hair is making me bark
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my pookies
#everyone say thank you for the photo dumps#also soapy at a dairy queen is literally so nat core i’m sorry#courtney short hair is making me bark#yellowjackets
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turn this boat around (we’re going down)
(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)
who would win: a normal river or one soggy girl
Word count: 5764
Prompt: “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”
———————
“Don’t forget to put on—”
But it was too late. Kitty and Cleves were already sprinting into the river and collapsing into the water. Jane’s arm fell limp to her side and she narrowed her eyes at the pair.
“Fine. I hope you both fry.” She hissed before turning to help someone else- someone less stupid and more obedient- with putting on sunscreen.
It had been Kitty and Maggie’s idea to go out for a swim, which was why the ten Tudor reincarnated ladies were out by a secluded riverside in the first place. It was quite warm that day, anyway, so they gave in to the idea and packed up two cars and drove out to the serene little spot for a nice day on the water. However, not everyone was as thrilled to be there as Kitty and her impractical soulmate were.
Joan’s nose curled as water lapped hungrily at her toes. She stepped out of the shallows and back onto the sandstone shoreline. It was too cold in her opinion- she didn’t know how Kitty and Cleves weren’t bothered by it.
Not to be a buzzkill, but she really didn’t want to be there. She hated the water, although she didn’t quite know why, as she didn’t think she had any trauma attached to it. She just didn’t enjoy getting all soggy and cold. Nor did she know how to swim, so just added bonus points to why she didn’t enjoy water. However, everyone else was onboard with the idea without even hearing her opinion, so she got dragged out with them whether she liked it or not.
Although, she had to admit the place they were hunkered down at was quite beautiful. Down a dirt path and through a thicket of foliage, the trees opened up to border the riverside. It was shaded by the overhead shrubbery, shielding them from the sun, and had several rock formations sticking out in the deeper end, perfect spots for jumping off and diving, as Kitty has already discovered, since she was already clambering up the side of one crag. Dense brambles locked around the other side, which has a bay like a gravelly beach. Joan was standing in front of the shallows, where sparkling rivulets of water rushed through the weathered limestone riverbed. She winces when she steps on a pebble. She knew she should have brought some kind of river shoes.
At the main site, Maggie had just jumped in and was now chanting for Maria to get in, who was slowly lowering herself into the water and squealing about how cold it was. A purple, black, and indigo blur then suddenly passes them in a flash; Bessie pops up from the surface a moment later, blinks at them through violet goggles, then disappears once again without a word.
“She is in heaven,” Aragon commented with a chuckle. She was seated beside Jane in a beach chair on a flat ledge just in front of the water. They were both basically taking up the roles of lifeguards for the expedition.
“Definitely.” Jane agreed with a light laugh of her own, but that light laugh quickly turned into an uproar of laughter that nearly made her fall out of her chair when Bessie unexpectedly resurfaced holding a catfish by the tail. “HOW DID YOU—?!”
“ELIZABETH!!” Aragon barked, laughing as hard as everyone else. Joan even thinks there’s tears streaming out of her eyes at the sight. “PUT IT BACK!!”
Bessie stared at her, then at the fish, and then placed it back in the water. It fearfully shoots away from her as fast as possible, probably having a fishy panic attack. She blinked, flashed a quick peace sign, and then dived again.
Joan watched Aragon and Jane for a moment as they settled, half transfixed on how pretty they looked in their bathing suits and hating herself for it, before a flash of green caught her eye. She turned to see Anne standing there and tipping the can of sunscreen at her.
“Have you put some on yet?” The queen asked.
“Not yet,” Joan replied.
“Need help?”
Joan’s ears were suddenly on fire, much to her dismay.
“N-no, I got it.” Joan stammered.
“Alright,” Anne shrugged. She handed Joan the can and then went to get in, pushing in Cathy, who was trying to hype herself up to jump in, as she did so.
After very poorly putting on a coating of sunscreen, Joan just awkwardly stands by the bags for a moment. She watches everyone else splash around happily, then walks past Jane and Aragon, and to a swampy area of the bay. It was overgrown with cattails and reeds, and the surface of the water was covered in a layer of mushy green algae. Joan wrinkled her nose, not even wanting to know how that would feel between her toes, and stepped across the goop to a rock sitting between a circle of tall grass growing out from the water, then to another, and another, and another, until she situated herself on a flat, fairly large stone that would make for a good watch point.
And watch she did, since she didn’t have anything better to do.
On the tallest rock formation, probably around twelve feet in height, Kitty was standing on the edge babbling about being the true queen of the castle or something. Maggie walked up to her, looked at her wordlessly, then shoved her off. Kitty’s alarmed squeal was quickly overcome by the splash of her body slapping against the river’s surface. Jane was barely able to fight back a flinch when she saw this, but was able to settle herself from where she sat.
At another part of the river, a slightly shallower area where you could stand up and only be submerged around the waist or stomach, Cleves and Maria were playing with a volleyball that had been brought along. Cleves was playfully barking at Maria to not tuck her thumbs in or else she would end up breaking them, which “would not make playing the drums very easy.”
And then, in front of Jane and Aragon’s ledge, a flurry of bubbles explode against the rippling surface. A moment later, Bessie pops up like a two thousand year old river monster that has just awoken from its slumber. Thick, long tendrils of black hair draped over her face like wet snakes, but she’s able to navigate her way over to the shore with ease. When she gets to a ledge, she hops up, grappling her arms in the rock for a grip while her feet scrabble against the stone before finding a hold and pushing the rest of her body up. Once she stands, she pauses for a moment, then shakes her head wildly to dry her hair, quickly replacing the image of “river monster” with “soggy black bear.”
“Was that really necessary, Elizabeth?” Aragon said with distaste, as she got caught in the crossfire of the splattering hair water. But even from a distance, Joan could tell Aragon was just messing around, and was quite endeared by how at ease and happy her daughter figure was.
“Yes.” Bessie said with a blank face. She padded over to the cooler and took out a water bottle. She took a few sips, then set it down, along with her goggles. “I don’t need these.”
“Elizabeth, don’t open your eyes under-”
But Bessie had already returned to the river, which she’s practically claimed as her aquatic kingdom. Aragon shook her head with a loving chuckle.
Just then, Joan felt a flash of embarrassment. Bessie was so calm and relaxed, despite being in a bathing suit. Everyone knew she had issues with her body, but she looked so peaceful. Sure, it was a one piece swimsuit (dark purple with black stripes) and she also had shorts on, but still! Even Kitty was in a tankini! And Cleves, who was the proclaimed “ugly one” by history, was proudly flaunting a ruby red bikini!
Joan shyly looked down at herself, at the light blue rash guard and darker blue waterproof shorts covering her floral bathing suit underneath; and felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She felt kinda pathetic- what gave her the right to be so ashamed of her body? She wasn’t touched in the way Kitty and Bessie were. She shouldn’t be so nervous of skin being shown.
She sighed and plucked up a pebble sitting on her slab, throwing it fiercely as far as she could. The resounding splash seemed to alert a few of the girls on the largest rock, who just now noticed that she was sitting there.
“Joan!” Maggie called. “Come on! Come up with us!”
Joan scanned the water, but found no possible way to get to the rock without getting in, and it was very deep in that area. Besides, even if there was a way, she knew she would probably be pushed off if she dared to venture up there, and she didn’t know what she would do if that would happen. Everyone would figure out she couldn’t swim, she would probably have to be rescued, and she would never be able to live that down. She huddled further into the center of the stone she’s on.
“I’m good!” She called back.
Maggie exchanged looks with Cathy and Kitty, who were up there with her. Anne was standing on the top, too, but she just tilted her head at Joan in a curious, but slightly worried way.
“Why not?” Kitty yelled this time.
“It’s too cold!”
“Uhh.” Kitty blinked. “Okay.”
Joan bit her lip, already knowing she was being judged. They definitely saw through her answer and were thinking about how stupid and scared she was. She wished she could be like the protagonist in a movie that would suddenly get a burst of confidence which would send her proudly leaping into the water and being perfectly fine, but she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to get in. And she didn’t want to sit there looking like a fool anymore, so she stood up and hopped back onto the bay.
Joan walks over to the bags, noticing random trinkets- necklaces, rings, hats, even a damp, clumped up shirt- piled neatly on the ledge Aragon and Jane were sitting at. She looked at it curiously, then yelped as a crushed beer can was suddenly hurled out from the water. Aragon and Jane look at her in amusement.
“Watch out,” Aragon warned her a little too late. “Elizabeth is cleaning out the river.”
“And also creating a hoard.” Jane nodded at the pile.
Speaking of the devil, Bessie’s top half emerges from the water and clings to the edge of the ledge so she can place a scuffed green beaded necklace with her pile.
“Think you can find me some sunglasses?” Aragon asked.
Bessie grinned up at her and then disappeared in the water again. Joan momentarily saw her figure ripple near the riverbed before sliding out of view into the deep end.
“She has a tendency to go nonverbal when she’s in her zone or concentrated.” Aragon informed Joan with a chuckle. “It’s adorable.”
Joan smiled slightly, then moved to sift through one of the bags. She pulled out two pencils and her small sketchbook. Seeing as she had nothing else to do, she thought she could get away with drawing. Not like anyone would do anything to stop her.
She looked around for a good place to sit, then noticed a path winding through the trees to her far left. She blinked at it, glanced at the others not paying any attention to her, then walked into the riverside jungle.
The tangled trees seemed to be reaching for her with long trailing roots, and branches like skeletal fingers snarled together overhead to create a canopy of sorts. Sunlight filtered in from above, casting pale yellow spots across the large boulders dotting the foliage. They were all huge and just lied around like the remnants of an ancient landslide. A few packed together tightly against a tall fjord of earth, creating a rocky corridor of sorts. There was another path to get to the other side, beneath a log suspended in the air by two crags and through some weeds, but Joan decided to venture into the crevice.
Walking through the passageway felt like she was getting a hug from the earth. It was a slight squeeze to go through, she had to hunch her shoulders in to keep them from scraping against the walls, but it felt worth it for the sights.
Flowers were blooming from vines etched in the moss-matted bedrock on either side of her. Orange and green and amber were streaked through the rock walls, glowing beneath streams of water that glittered like melted diamonds from a spring somewhere up above. Specks of sunlight bleeding in through the canopy above would hit the stone’s tears in just the right way to set them off in radians of iridescent and silver. The deep emerald moss was fluffy beneath Joan’s fingers when she tentatively touched the patches. Ahead, she then sees braids of willow dangling down from a long, reaching branch that has itself draped over one of the boulders. When she pushes through the curtain, she’s met with scattered trees that break down and fold into a field of rock crags that border the glistening river.
Joan walks through the grass and down onto the shoreline. Most of the bay there were shallows that have leaked into the openings between stony ridges risen from the ground. She shivers as she wades through the ankle-deep water, feeling the cold jolt through her muscles. She clambered up the first rock she could reach as fast as she could.
She took a moment to scan around her, then glanced over her shoulder. Parts of her were hoping to see the others calling her name, breaking through the foliage and running to her in relief for wandering off, but she knew that would never happen. She bet they would end up leaving her there entirely if she stayed out too long.
Shaking her head to rid herself of that though, Joan began to traverse the rock formations carefully. She leapt from one shelf to another, feeling like a graceful bighorn sheep climbing a mountainside or a dragon mapping out its new territory. Jumping and moving like that made her feel so free and uncaring- perhaps this is what Bessie felt when she was in the water?
Joan paused for a moment to catch her breath. She looked to the side and saw a large pool of stagnant brownish water sitting in between some ledges nearby. A dark green, blobby frog croaked from in the warm, bubbling mud, then bobbled at her with its big yellow eyes. Joan giggled softly, then moved on.
Hopping across rocks, tight walking over fallen logs, occasionally stepping through the water below when gaps were too big to jump, Joan made her way across the stone shoreline. Then, the ground flattened out and the bay became one of smooth stone that she could easily walk across, only occasionally going around the reaching shelves of earth that stretched out from the cliff face bordering that side of the river.
Finally, her trek and hard work paid off when she spotted a nice rock formation reaching over the water. It was high up, safe from any splashing from the rapids below, with a sheer edge and an inclined side that Joan was able to climb up with little difficulty when she held her pencils and sketchbook in her mouth. There, she settled herself and began to draw.
Around thirty minutes into finishing up a drawing of Killer Frost brawling with a menacing polar bear (what? she had an active imagination!) she looked up and stared with wide eyes at the hawk perched only a few meters away.
It’s not that she’s never seen a hawk before, she has, but she’s never been this close to one. And it’s not like they were common in a big city like London.
This one was pretty big. It had its streaked, slate grey chest puffed out as it scanned the water with orange-red eyes from the tree branch it was regally perched on. The thick, bristled tail was still banded, though the marks were fading, meaning this was an adolescent. And the wide, white stripe over the eyes told Joan that it was a goshawk.
The bird flexed its razor sharp, obsidian black talons around the branch, and Joan watched it do this simple action in awe. She flips to a clean page and begins to sketch out the beautiful creature, looking up every few strokes to check the details and diameters.
On her fifth glance, the hawk suddenly billowed its huge wings and leapt off of the branch. It dove straight down into the water, submerging itself for a moment before soaring back out in a blur of brown and grey. A long, blue-grey fish was now wriggling desperately in its hooked beak. It clamped down harder to keep its meal from falling out, then glanced at Joan. Its fire-colored eyes narrowed at her, talons twitching subtly beneath it as it hovered in the air. Then, it cocks its head back, as if to say, “Try to top that, wingless bird,” and flies off into the trees on the other side of the river.
Joan watched it go with an amazed look. She smiled and went back to her sketch. She finishes it relatively quickly and goes to the next blank page. As she’s doing so, she slowly starts to pick up on how active the floral and fauna around her was.
Tangles of thorns and thickets of huge ferns grew along the shoreline on the other side, which was coated with smashed up gravel and fragments of river shells and pieces of smooth black flint. Sharp, hollow reeds poked out of the edges of the water like pale green and light brown needles, just waiting for some poor sole to step on them and be lanced by their spear-like points. Tadpoles and minnows were weaving between the bases, their delicate bodies barely even stirring up a fleck of mud as they swam.
In the deeper water, the shimmering bodies of fish could be seen, although it was hard to tell what size or color they were because the rapids were rushing white streaks over the surface. However, she did notice a green-brown catfish swimming lazily from underneath her rock, whiskers billowing beside its face like little squirming snakes.
Out of the corner of her eye, Joan noticed a tawny, speckled gecko skitter up onto her ledge, then paused when it saw her. It looks her up and down with its big brown eyes, sizing her up, then turns away, deciding to find a different place to sunbathe. Joan giggled softly. She HAD to draw Killer Frost messing with a lizard, now. As she was reaching for one of her pencils, however, it slipped from her hand and began rolling to the edge. Joan lunged just a bit too far for it.
Joan couldn’t even think to try and catch herself as she tips over the edge and into the icy water below.
The first thing she realizes when she falls in is that the water was a lot shallower than she thought it was. Or maybe she fell with enough momentum to slam all the way to the bottom. She didn’t know, but she felt her back connect to the riverbed with so much force she thought her spine broke for a moment. But then her body began to writhe like a stabbed snake without her brain commanding it to do so. She just squirms and wiggles and flails, but she can’t get to the surface and the current seizes her in its glacial talons and drags her along with it. She can feel her back scrape and shred against the rock beneath her, even with the rash guard on.
The water stings every inch of her like dry ice until she can’t tell cold from hot any longer. She’s so in shock from falling in and then landing on her spinal cord that she forgets if she’s being boiled alive or being frozen solid.
Everything is dark, and the water presses down on her. Someone is coming to save her. Jane is coming to save her. She must be. Or someone must be— they won’t let her die!
This— this was why she’s scared of the water. Not because of a past trauma, but because of the knowledge of how powerful it is and the inherent fear that comes with that. The water is stronger than she’ll ever be and that makes her scared.
She can’t swim, she can’t breathe, she can’t escape. She’s going to die in this river, and shouldn’t it have edges. Shouldn’t there be a way out?
Joan suddenly bashed into a boulder sticking out of the river— there it was. Reeling with pain, awareness rushing back to her, Joan spun in the water, flailing for a hold on something.
She crashed into another rock, bounced off, and slammed into yet another. The river was going so fast now that she couldn’t stop herself. She was being dragged hungrily by the undertow at top speeds.
Joan manages to twist over so she wouldn’t be belly-up anymore like a fish waiting to die. She shoved her knees against the riverbed, feeling the stone slabs slice off an entire layer of skin like a hot knife, and breaches the surface. She gasps, sucked in as much air as she could in her panic, then tried to scream for help, but was cut off when her face smashed into solid rock.
Joan sees bright, colorful stars explode across her vision— or maybe they’re minnows, because she keels over and the undertow reclaims her into its depths. She’s back underwater, sinking into an alarmingly deep part of the river.
Mmmmm... The river seemed to rumble around her. So delicious... Mine. My prey.
Blood is swirling up from one of Joan’s nostrils. She doesn’t know how because that nostril already feels like it’s swollen shut. That side of her face is pulsing with pain; she can feel her heartbeat pounding away- is it getting weaker?
Her back touches the riverbed. Knobby protrusions and pebbles and shells scratch against her rash guard like desperate fingers. A few might have actually managed to cut through the fabric because she can feel the streaks of pain lancing across her spine worsening by the second. Her cuts being packed full of grit and gravel is so bad that she doesn’t even become aware of the burning in her lungs until just then.
Shhhhhh.... The water whispers when Joan’s whimper sends ripples through its body. Shhh... Rest. Mine. Hungry.
The burning turns into a full on incineration of her lungs. Suddenly, the water around her feels a lot less icy and a lot more like it was boiling around her. Her body felt so hot and heavy, her frigid and numb at the same time. This and the pain brought awareness back to her somewhat. She’s dizzy and can barely move, so it wouldn’t matter if she knew how to swim or not. Someone warm and wet is trickling from her nasal passage and down into her throat- blood.
Hungry. Hungry. Mine..... Cooed the water gleefully.
Stop, Joan thought desperately, as if she could speak the language of the undertow humming around her. Please stop.
Something is pressing down on her chest with talons of fire. Her throat is wrapped with burning hot razor wire. The surface just ten feet away from her face is starting to look a lot more black.
Want this. Want want want. Chanted the water. Sleep. Hungry hungry hungry.
Let me go. Joan mentally begged. She couldn’t believe she was using the last of her strength to try and telepathically speak to a fucking liquid. Please.
Can’t. The water replied, and now she knew for sure oxygen deprivation was making her delirious and think it was talking back to her. So hungry. Yum yum yum...
No. Human yuck. F-fish yum. Joan tried to persuade. Ripples swish around her like the aquatic shake of a head.
No. Need. You. Mine. So hungry. The water burbled. Shhhh....
No- Human yuck. Human yuck.
Joan couldn’t tell if she was crying, but the voice she was using to think with was cracking and trembling like she was.
Shhh....
Human yuck. Fish yum. Please don’t.
Shhhhh.......
No-
Shhhh.....
STOP! Joan roared. Her eyes shot open and, thick with gurgling blood, she screamed, “HELP!!” as loud as she could.
She may have been underwater, but surely someone had to hear her. She had to be close to the others by now.
How long has she been drowning without them knowing...?
“HELP! HELP!”
HUSH! Cried the water.
STOP!! Joan shrieked back.
Suddenly, something pierces the surface. Through the blackness hazing her vision Joan looks up and smiles weakly. She knew the others wouldn’t have left her to die. She knew they cared.
But it wasn’t them.
The fleeting blur of grey and brown zipped out of the water in an instant. The water is agitated, roiling and churning in rage. It seizes Joan by the throat and arms and legs and shakes her.
Then, she’s going up, up, up, dragged against a jagged, razor sharp slope of shell shards and flint daggers, and—
And she’s thrown over the surface.
Joan gasps loudly, reintroducing her lungs to oxygen—but they weren’t quite ready to quarrel with the element just yet. So, instead, she just made feeble, wheezing squeaky noises as fights to stay up above. Or, rather, the water fights to keep her up. She was just floundering around like an upside down drunk duck that never learned how to swim.
Crack went something in her chest as she wheels into a twisted rock formation and stab went another bolt of pain throughout her entire body.
Human yuck, Went the water as it shoved her waterlogged body into another protrusion. Human yuck.
Human yuck, Joan agreed dizzily as she extended her hands and grappled onto the next rock she was thrown against. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the tiny chick-chick-chick of the spiderwebs crawling through her rib cage when she stretched out her arms. Human yuck. She repeated tiredly.
Weakly, Joan crawled out of the water and flopped onto the top of the stone. At the sudden pressure on her stomach, water comes rushing out of her mouth and all she can really do is slack her jaw and let it all pour free from her innards. It was a terrible sensation, like water snakes were slithering out of her stomach and up her throat. It halted her breathing for several terrifying seconds, so she had no choice but to force up a cough to move the process along, but that cough turned into a gag and then a sob.
She has definitely been crying.
Joan wasn’t too sure how long she was sprawled out on that rock with tears streaming down her cheeks and water leaking from every orifice, but eventually looked up blearily. She had managed to float all the way down to the small forest with the rock passageway, but wasn’t at the other side yet. She also saw that tangles of water weeds and ropes of slimy algae were coiled around her limbs, like medals awarding her for not drowning. She didn’t have the strength to peel them off.
Everything hurt so badly. Her knees were skinned raw and filled with gravel, her back was so gashed she was sure her spine could be seen, her palms were on fire and one of her fingernails were missing, one half of her face was swollen and bruised, and something was very wrong with her ribs. She had no idea how she was going to get back to the others, and she was starting to fear they weren’t going to look for her at all. They were going to leave her.
More tears spilled free. She tried to call their names, but her voice came out as a strangled gurgle that the rapids shushed with their relentless churning. She stared fearfully at the rushing water around her and whimpered pathetically at what was to come.
After a few more minutes of laying still, Joan slowly slid off of the rock. The icy chill of the water sends the cuts scattered across her back alight with fresh pain and they sing with discomfort. She sings with them when she keens miserably.
Each step is agony. Her knees tremble under her weight and her ribs quiver in her chest in a terrible, unnatural way. The only reason she’s able to cross to the shore is because the water is only to her chest, but it’s still hard to wade through and bubbles around her, like it’s laughing at her efforts.
Joan stumbled to the bay along the side of the forest, which is situated on a ledge she wouldn’t be able to hoist herself up onto with her injuries. So she has to scale the side, walking through the deep, murky water until gravel turns to mud and her feet are sucked at hungrily. She can’t manage a yelp, so she just gurgled awkwardly and jerked back quickly, which makes her see stars. She clings tighter to the grass on the ledge and continues forward.
Finally, after twenty-five minutes of moving at a crawl, she reaches the end of the forest. The bank curves into a pool-like area, then continues to a straight line where the site was. Joan considered getting out and walking over there, but knew what would happen if she did- everyone would have to pick up and leave and they would all hate her for ruining it for them. As much as she really wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath that won’t try to drown her, she didn’t want everyone being annoyed with her, either.
So, instead, she dragged herself to the pool bay. Slimy black mud squelched beneath her toes and she nearly flattened a squishy-looking toad when her knees finally buckled and she collapsed. It hops out of the way with an alarmed croak, gawks at her black and blue and pale white form half sticking out of the water, then scoots away hastily.
There, Joan lays, moaning and crying miserably. She rationalizes that she’ll have more strength in just a moment if she just rests... Yes... She could feel the pain ebbing away already...
Sleep, sleep... Cooed the water as it licks her legs gently. Mine. So hungry... Human...yum.
———
“Can you get her up the hill?”
“Yes, Catherine, I’m not THAT weak. Besides, she’s really light...”
“I know, I’m not saying you’re weak, I just don’t want you to drop her.”
“I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”
“I never—”
“I had a baby, you know? I know how to carry a person. I was a mother.”
“Carrying a baby and carrying a teenager are two different actions.”
“I don’t know... Look at the way she’s snuggled up to me. Jealous?”
“No—”
Two voices bicker above her head. They’re both very warm and very soothing, but one is barbed with thorns and the other is coiled with jagged gemstone points. She’s too delirious to make them out fully, though, or ask them to be quiet, so she just moaned weakly. They don’t appear to hear her.
“Gentle, Anne!”
“I am being gentle!!”
A whimper worms free. This time, she’s heard because the voices shut up. When they eventually speak again, their tones are too hushed to hear properly.
“Mmmm...” Joan choked out. “I’m.....mmmm.......”
A finger brushes her cheek- the one that isn’t swollen and throbbing. She leans into it with another feeble whimper.
“We need to bring her to the hospital.”
“We need to bring her home.”
“Do you see the state she’s in? She needs a doctor!”
“Well, you can be the doctor. Doctor Catherine!”
“Do you not care about her? Because if not, give her to me.”
“Woah, hey- I’m holding her. Back off.”
“Then we take her to the-”
“Home.” Joan rasped. “Wanna...go home.”
She forces her eyes open and sees Anne and Aragon above her. They both look very worried as they stare down at her.
“Please...”
“You heard her,” Anne, the one carrying her, said. “Come on. Let’s hurry to the car.”
They continue walking to where the cars were parked. In that time, Joan becomes a little more aware of her surroundings. Instantly, guilt filtered through her. Everyone was probably having to leave because of her.
“I’m...I’m sorry...” She panted. Talking was so hard and it made her bruised face hurt tremendously. “I can...I can walk....mm too...heavy...”
“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her, making slight rocking motions. “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”
Joan tried to argue, but could only make a weak moan of pain. She hears the sound of a car door opening and then she’s being set inside with her head in someone’s lap- Aragon’s. Fingers began to gently thread through her wet, tangled hair.
“Why do I have to drive again?” Anne asked while sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Because you got to hold her.” Aragon said. “So I get to sit with her. It’s fair.” She looks down at Joan’s cloudy eyes. “Hey, baby girl. We’re gonna bring you home, alright? You’re gonna be just fine. We’ll take care of you.”
Joan really liked the sound of that.
She smiled dreamily in her daze and began to babble softly as she started to drift back off into unconsciousness. She can feel her cracked ribs aching, and she’s desperate to not feel again.
“Did she just say ‘human yuck?” Anne said from the front of the car. “Oh my god, that is too cute! Catherine, record that!”
“Eyes on the road, Anne!”
Soon, all Joan can feel is Aragon’s gentle hand stroking her hair. She knew she would be in an extreme amount of pain when she woke up again and may actually have to go to the hospital, but, right now, she just focused on the loving pets she was getting and the sound of the water’s lullaby still roaring in her ears.
One thing was for sure: she was never going to go swimming again.
#six the musical#six the musical fanfic#six the musical fanfiction#six fanfic#six fanfiction#katherine howard#anna of cleves#jane seymour#anne boleyn#nana boleyn#joan on the keys#catherine of aragon#maggie on the guitar#maria on the drums#bessie on the bass#catherine parr
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Cut content - 13:NSUA
Just for everyone’s viewing pleasure (or horror, whichever fits), here’s the initial idea I had for chapter one of 13: Not So Unlucky Anymore.
Victoria shook her head. "I really can't believe this shit," she said with a shake of her head. "It's like we're a fucking harem here. This is the entire girls' floor!"
"Except the transfer student."
Everyone stopped and turned to Kate, who had remained silent up until now. "What was that?" Rachel asked.
"Oh." Kate shifted, unused to being the center of attention. "Well, last night, sometime after dinner, I noticed a girl was apparently moving in. She had her arms pretty full so I gave her a hand getting all of her stuff upstairs. I pointed out it was an odd time to move in but she stated that she missed the first week due to a sudden illness in the family and couldn't make it down the previous weekend." Kate shrugged. "I only just now remembered. I guess everyone else was in their rooms and whatnot so I was the only person who saw her come in."
"Room 219?"
Kate turned to Steph and nodded. "That's right."
"I saw someone had drawn a picture on that room's slate when I walked passed. I only noticed because it had been blank before."
"What's her name?" Courtney asked.
Kate shook her head. "I asked last night but I forgot. Sorry."
"No worries," Rachel said, giving Kate's hand a soft pat. "But now we have a likely suspect: our newest resident. Her room is about in the middle of the floor, so we're all within close proximity to her. Her presence likely triggered our marks a few hours after she arrived."
"Then why isn't she here?" Juliet asked. "She must've saw the sign by now."
"Could be a late sleeper," was Dana's reply.
"Whatever," Victoria said, sliding her unlit cigarette back into its pack. "She's the last one left so I say let's go kick down her door and find out just what the hell is going on." And without waiting for confirmation from the others, she started out of the common room. "Seriously, who the hell needs 12 damn soulmates?"
"The Zodiac Killer?" Chloe supplied helpfully.
Victoria barked out a laugh despite herself, to the surprise of most everyone present. Juliet wondered if that meant the other thing she read about soulmates was actually true: that over time, difficulties that might normally arise from soulmates having wildly differing attitudes and character traits would simply smooth themselves out. She decided to keep that little tidbit to herself.
For now.
Everyone crowded around room 219's door, the slate on it now sporting a poker face meme along with the caption "I'm here. Yay." Victoria raised her hand to pound on the door before Rachel reached out and caught her wrist. "Hey, maybe we can let Kate knock?" she offered. "Since she's at least a familiar face."
Victoria gave Rachel a long look before nodding slightly and stepping aside. Rachel then motioned to Kate, who stepped up and knocked.
Everyone waited with bated breath as they heard a quiet voice call out, "Just a sec." There was some rustling, the sound of a bed creaking, then, a moment later, the door opened.
Whoever she was, she had apparently just woken up. Short brown hair sticking out every which way, blue eyes looking blearily at the crowd outside of her door. She was fully dressed but her clothes were completely wrinkled, like she had slept in them. She painted a very unimposing figure. "Kate? What's up?"
"Good morning," was Kate's reply, irritated with herself that she couldn't remember the girl's name. "We were just talking--"
"Max?"
Everyone, including Max, turned to Chloe, who was staring at Max like she had seen a ghost. "Holy shit. Max? Is that really you?" Chloe shook her head slowly, eyes still locked onto Max. "They told me you were dead!"
Originally, the soulmate idea was angsty. Have Max transfer in after the semester’s already started, then have the marks show up. This would make it so she wasn’t familiar with anyone, didn’t have any friends at Blackwell yet, and didn’t have a chance to reconcile with Chloe. This would lead to a ton of resentment that Max would have to resolve before reciprocating with anyone.
In addition, the idea I had was all the girls would work to keep the marks ultra-secret from anyone else because, in this initial setting, soulmates are common but there are actually laws that require soulmates to reciprocate as quickly as possible. “It’s for your own good” and all that. Chloe would use the guilt Max feels about abandoning her for five years to force her non-compliance with the laws, keeping everyone free from reciprocation. This would last until Max had earned everyone’s trust, or until they were found out.
That last line, “They told me you were dead,” was placed there to add a huge dose of mystery to the entire thing, too. However, it fell flat because I couldn’t come up with anything resembling an over-arcing plot that would incorporate such a mystery to begin with.
Ultimately, I dropped this idea completely for a few reasons: I didn’t have enough material in my head for a lengthy angst soulmate AU; I didn’t really want to write Max being public enemy #1 to everyone; and, this version wasn’t going to be fun to write at all. So, it got severely altered into its current form. This is also why chapter 2 has the line, “(No, wait. That's another version of this tale. We're keeping it silly here. So...).” It’s a callback to all the arguments and head-to-keyboard-smashing I had with myself when coming up with more ideas for this story.
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The Immortal Detective
Chapter one:
The rough sunlight beams into my eyes like an alien beaming a cow up in one of those old Science Fiction films. One of the Good ones. I try to drag the cap on my head down, but it's no help. I did it again, dammit... I slept in my uniform. I really need to get into some sort of pajamas. The same uniform I had been requested to wear all day and night from the moment I had gotten it yesterday. 'To make sure they got the measurements correct,' or whatever. Except for the cap, that was normally placed on the head of the person sleeping in the next room.
When the alarm to get up finally rings, I don't jump. Not anymore. It's practically routine by now. I quickly sit up, push back the heavy comforter, and stumble off the bed to the mirror, kicking away some shorts and fast food containers. Sure, the thing in the mirror may be a mess, but I assure you, it's me. What you see may be a tired, tall, messy-haired child wearing a baggy police uniform. In reality, I'm a tired, tall, messy-haired child who is now a detective in training.
After 3 long years of training and practicing, I had finally graduated from being a normal police officer to being a detective. Through countless mental and physical tests, and learning how to use a gun (which I didn't want to). And it's all for the little girl in the silver picture frame on my dresser.
The little girl in the picture had small dimples, grossly cut hair, and held tightly in her hand was a book. That's my little sister, Jaiden. She's the person next door. The one that I should probably go wake up and make sure she'll be fed and ready for school. I don't bother doing anything else with myself, there's still 2 hours left before I report to the chief.
I slowly creep over to the door next to mine. The one that now had a quote and Hufflepuff decal on it. I jiggle the broken doorknob and let myself in. After stepping over a stack of books and a mound of crumpled up papers left over from what seemed like one of her late-night idea sessions. Once I find myself In front of a small steel bed, I notice that the small lump that's normally there is no longer there. Jaiden isn't in her bed. She isn't in her bed. Panic fills my eyes and wracks through my brain.
"Jade?" I call out. "Jade? Where are you?" My eyes switch around the room. A tightening feeling goes around my lungs and practically steals the breath from them. I should've never let her sleep with the window open. What if someone took her?! Nobody would want her! "JADE!"
Calm yourself, Bevel! I say to myself. You're going to become a detective! You have the brains to find your own sister! Where would she go? Does she really not wanna live here? Or did someone take her? Gotta look for evidence. I start overturning books, tearing apart her bed, and even knocking over her lamp. This is a crime scene now! She's probably at one of her friend's houses. But, which friend?! Mya? Courtney? Myrtle? Stephanie-?
"Dakota!" A voice said from behind me. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"
I jump up a little and turn to see Jaiden in her white school uniform and her hair neatly brushed out. She held two ribbons in one hand and a brush in her other. I sigh in relief.
"I didn't know where you were," I say. "What are you doing up so early?"
"Waiting for you to get up," she answers. "Also cooking breakfast. If you didn't know where I was, how are you going to be a detective?"
"What?" I grab the brush from her hand as she sits down on the ground and I sit on the bed. "But, I normally make breakfast." I also decide to completely ignore her rude question about me being a detective.
I start to brush out her hair as she makes a face that I can see from the mirror on her wall, "you don't make anything right. Somehow you even make cereal taste bad. I was perfectly fine popping in some Eggo waffles and putting syrup on them. Which, by the way, do not need any altercations like you said they needed."
"Hey, dad used to infuse all those berries and stuff," I point out as I gather half of her hair into one hand and the other half in the other hand. "Plus, even though I'm no good at cooking..." I take my hands away to reveal two perfect buns on her head, tied up with the ribbons. "I'm pretty great at doing hair."
She smiles, "Yeah, yeah... whatever." She stands up, takes the brush, and hugs me. "I gotta go. There are waffles for you in the microwave. Don't forget to take your allergy pill and make sure you don't stutter too much while talking to this new Detective."
I roll my eyes, "whatever you say, ma'am."
Jaiden beams brighter as she grabs her bulging backpack from the floor and leaves. Out her open window, I watch the yellow bus pull up and her run out to get onboard. A sigh escapes my lips.
Jaiden is eight years younger than me. She's still in Middle School as I try to work at getting a good paying job. Yet, somehow, even though I'm older she acts like I'm a three year old. True, I kind of am... but she doesn't need to point it out.
I stalk off to the dully colored, unlit kitchen. The one window had its curtains closed making it almost completely dark. I open said curtains and stare out at the view: a red brick building with graffiti on it. Great. Gotta love city life. On the small TV in the living room, the news was blaring. The woman on TV was talking all about Stock prices rising, or something. It doesn't much bother me. I grab out my waffles, sit down on the wobbly chair I'll have to fix later, and drown my waffles in syrup. Then, I take out my phone and start scrolling through some random pictures.
Over the sound of the TV, I could hear the neighbor's dog barking. A little way out, the thumping of machines fixing something in the road was barely audible but I could still hear it. I could hear lots of things I probably shouldn't. Arguments, secrets, plans. That's why I thought I would make a good detective. But, something about working in the city really deterred me from doing it. See, my family is from Indiana. Like, a really small country town in Indiana. Everyone knew each other and things were spectacular. Except when... things happened. Things that I don't like talking about... So, to make sure I made a living and Jade would be able to afford being sent to school, I moved to Cincinnati. The land of plenty mistakes and accidents.
About half-way through my waffles, I see a crumpled piece of paper across the table filled with pen marks. So, she actually finished one in the morning? I grab it and read it.
The great perhaps is that there may be life lasting beyond from where we stand now. In the idea that I'm writing about currently, I propose that maybe someone could live past their own expiration date. Maybe, someone could have seen the whole world go by but never change. Would they be sick of this? Or, maybe they would-
I snort and start laughing. Ever since... the incident... I had been encouraging Jade to write out her ideas and feelings. They were normally wild and outrageous. But, that's what you can expect from a kid with a wild imagination. She is only nine. I grab the paper, take one last bite of my waffles, and go back to my room.
I set my phone on the dresser and kneel down by my bed. From under my bed, I pull out a beaten up brown box with tape on the top. On the tape in permanent marker were the scribbles, 'words and stuff.' It was filled to the brim with small writings, all dated and signed by Jade herself. I add the new paper in. I keep telling her she should pursue a career in some sort of literature, but she's convinced herself that it will make her no money. Every time she says something like that, I bring up J.K. Rowling or Rick Riordan. She still doesn't think it's her speed. Whatever.
I throw the cap to the other side of the room and start to go through my locks of greasy hair, trying to make them stay in some sort of better position. Sure, I'm going to take a shower but I need to at least look a little decent to do that. Maybe even just My body slowly picks itself off the floor and I put my hand on the doorknob to go into my bathroom, but a ringing sound cuts me off.
Quickly, I grab my phone from off the desk and check the profile picture. A gruff looking man in the same police outfit (except with more medals) with his cap pulled over his eyes is shining back up at me. The contact name was 'The Chief,' and this was surely my chief. I gulp and press the accept answer.
"Hello?" My voice cracks. Jesus... does it always have to be like this when I talk to him.
"BEVEL!" The voice of my chief screams. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YA?! YOU'RE LATE!"
"But, chief," I say, "it's only eight."
"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE BY 7:30!" The phone crackles over the power of his voice. "BE HERE IN 15, OR YOU'RE NOT GETTING THE JOB!"
I try to explain myself but the phone fuzzes off. I shove the phone in my pocket, grab my cap, and bolt out the door. My hair will just have to be greasy and my teeth grimy with waffles. Things will be fine. They'll be fine.
I get into the car and fumble around with the keys to start it. Damn, how did I get it that wrong? Hopefully, this goes right, or else it's my head... and my future...
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Simplicité - Chapter 8
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What Katharine Hepburn and Courtney Love Taught Me About Glamour and Grunge
http://fashion-trendin.com/what-katharine-hepburn-and-courtney-love-taught-me-about-glamour-and-grunge/
What Katharine Hepburn and Courtney Love Taught Me About Glamour and Grunge
I
was around 10 years old when I first saw Katharine Hepburn glide across the screen in the 1940 film The Philadelphia Story. Dressed in riding boots or an embroidered evening gown or a bathing cap, she exuded a self-possessed grace and delivered withering one-liners in a steely voice. She went swimming at midnight and said things like “My, she was yar.”
Soon I was printing out pictures of my newfound idol to make collages for my bedroom wall. Her collared shirts, her menswear inspired blazers, that hot rolled hair — she was the epitome of refined glamour. I was hooked. Particularly throughout the awkward horror of middle school, she served as both style icon and role model, her confidence like a beacon.
Her spirit of defiance imbued my girlhood with a fierceness for which I’m grateful. I delivered my own one-liners on the playground and I felt a confidence in my abilities that many girls my age did not share. I also wore some truly hideous khakis from the Gap that I thought were Hepburn-esque but most certainly were not. (She owned 30 pairs of custom-made tan slacks.)
I dabbled in plenty of ‘90s trends — my collection of power beads, butterfly clips and snap bracelets can attest to that — but throughout my childhood and into adolescence, I was drawn to more classic styles. My mother owned a set of hot rollers that I would use on my hair for special occasions, and fitted blazers were a part of my wardrobe at an age when it was more weird than cool. I found comfort in reconfiguring styles that had been appreciated not only by Hepburn, but also by strong women in my own family. In high school, my grandmother gifted me pieces of beautiful costume jewelry from her mother, a first generation Italian immigrant who, like Hepburn, was prone to wearing pants, playing sports and asserting her independence.
Courtney Love
Photo by Mick Hutson/Redferns via Getty Images
It wasn’t until I was in my early twenties that I found a new idol. She wore babydoll dresses and smudged lipstick and sang lyrics like, “Slit me open and suck my scars.” When I discovered Courtney Love, I experienced that same sense of Hepburn awe. It was like breathing out a grunt I hadn’t realized I’d been stifling.
A rage I had tried to push away crawled back in those years, and I found myself less interested in presenting a polished face to the world, as Hepburn did. I felt like a different woman, eager to embrace a new vision of womanhood in all of its messiness and pain. Listening to the music of Love’s band Hole, I heard some of my own experiences reflected: toxic relationships, assault and above all of it, anger. I saw that anger embodied in Love and in her so-called “kinderwhore” aesthetic, with all of its femininity chewed up and spat out. I traded in my pearls for fishnets.
Everything Love wore was a little off — too tight, too short, ripped. Her attitude was like a dare. At age 18 in a personal experience that was laughably on the nose, I was once turned away from services at a Catholic church for having a run in my tights. Later I took a disposable razor to those tights and shredded them beyond recognition. I still wear them, and they look better than ever.
Love’s style was a far cry from the pantsuits of Katharine Hepburn, but the contrast alone isn’t why I liked her. I admired her bravado, the likes of which I had only witnessed in men, alongside a will to survive I had rarely seen in anyone. Like Hepburn, she had substance, too. Her 1994 album Live Through This is a work of art, winning Rolling Stone’s Album of the Year. It was so good that some critics insisted Kurt Cobain must have written it, refusing to believe that a woman — let alone this woman — had created it. But she was an ambitious rock star in her own right, and that’s part of why people hated her: for doing a man’s work in a little girl’s clothes.
“It was about intentionally taking the most constraining parts of the feminine, good-girl aesthetic, inflating them to a cartoon level, and subverting them to kill any ingrained insecurities. It was about taking back the power and screaming, ‘You want the female sex? Here you go,’” punk singer Mish Way wrote of the kinderwhore aesthetic Love was known for.
Courtney Love and Katharine Hepburn seem to have little in common, one a grunge rocker and the other a put-together prepster. For many years, I believed they represented a dichotomy in both my style and my personality, as if I were a divided closet full of ripped band t-shirts and tailored trousers. But the more time I’ve spent watching, listening and reading about them over the years, the more I’ve come to see them as kindred spirits.
Katharine Hepburn
Photo by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer/Getty Images
In the intervening decades since the height of Hepburn’s fame, much of her radicalness has been erased from public memory. If young women today know who she is at all, they don’t think of her as fundamentally different from Rita Hayworth, Ava Gardner or any number of 1940s starlets. But when Hepburn first arrived in Hollywood, she was far from the image of a mid-century damsel.
Early movie reviews called her “too masculine, too rough,” and her penchant for wearing pants served as a severe act of gender transgression at a time when sporting “men’s clothes” could still land women in jail. Director George Cukor once described her in a way that might shock fans of her charm, saying: “The audience had never seen a girl like that — she seemed to bark at them. She didn’t play for sympathy at all. At first, the audience wasn’t quite sure whether it liked her or not.”
Not so different, in the end, from Love. While these two women’s legacies might be diverge, they both rejected the expectations forced onto women and embraced their nonconformity. They stood at the apex of transgression, femininity and power and helped me find my own path to self-expression.
Today, I’ll mix in some 1940s touches with a punk look, wearing a faux fur coat with combat boots. I feel more at ease in my own body, sometimes poised and other times very much not. I’ve found freedom in celebrating women who have different approaches to what is ultimately the same cause, because it’s allowed me to do the same. Plus, I never have to worry about getting a run in my tights, and there’s freedom in that, too.
Jess McHugh is a New York-based journalist writing about the intersection of culture, politics and other things that strike her fancy. Her work has appeared in The Paris Review, The Nation, TIME.com, Village Voice, International Business Times, CNN, and The Believer, among others. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter.
Feature photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images.
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Undone, Chapter 1 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica
A/N: Welcome to Chapter 1 of UNDONE, a slow-burn Bitney lesbian AU. (This is a reposting of a story that was previously on RGF, because we intend to post future chapters here instead.)
Summary: Courtney and Bianca have instant chemistry when they meet on the set of their new job - a TV show set in the Golden Age of Hollywood. Only one problem: Bianca is married.
TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.
***
Bianca examines the actor in front of her critically, making sure that the pleats are straight and there are no wrinkles, that all the edges are clean and sharp. She knows she’s taking too long, being too compulsive, but she’s determined for everything to be absolutely perfect.
It’s the first day of production for “Silver Screens, Broken Dreams,” her latest gig - an HBO drama all about 1950s Hollywood intrigue. She’s been trapped in the wardrobe trailer since 6 am, powering through the background talent with the help of her PA and about 5 gallons of coffee. Right now, she's trying to get through the day players and stand-ins before she has to help her department head with the lead actors - who are turning out to be a real handful.
“Alright...stand here.” She directs him to a spot on the wall, taking a Polaroid for the binder. “Thanks, Louis, you’re done.” The actor leaves, and she calls out for her PA. “Jamie!”
The frazzled-looking young woman comes racing in from the adjacent trailer, where she was steaming and tagging the next day’s wardrobe. Seeing her anxiety-riddled face, Bianca almost feels bad. She knows that she’s been taking her own frayed nerves out on the girl, snapping at her so many times, she’s surprised Jamie doesn’t have bite marks. She’s just such a damn newbie and Bianca is not a babysitter. This job is too important.
“Send in the next victim,” Bianca says brusquely.
Jamie nods and opens her mouth to ask a question, then thinks better of it and scampers off again.
Bianca turns to clear some scraps off her work table, checking her binder, crossing Louis off her list. When she hears the trailer door open again, she turns around to greet the next actor, and the air is knocked out of her lungs. Standing in front of the open door, backlit by the bright California sunshine, is the most dazzlingly gorgeous blonde she’s ever seen in her life. Heart-shaped face like an angel, hooded green eyes, a delicate jaw, and a perfect, petite body with legs for days. Bianca swallows, picking up her measuring tape, trying to cover her shaking hands.
Courtney steps forward, letting the door swing closed behind her, looking at the wardrobe assistant standing in front of her, who is biting her plush, ruby lips in the cutest way. Courtney tries to breathe evenly, taking in her wide blue eyes, chocolate brown hair, the way her clothes hug that body, which is too curvy for her own good. Holy shit. Courtney knows what she likes, and this girl? Checks every box.
When Bianca hears the girl’s lilting Australian accent, suddenly her looks aren’t the most alluring thing about her.
“I thought I was gonna be the one getting naked, but this works too.” Courtney gestures to a button on Bianca's shirt that had popped open, eyes glittering with mischief.
“Sorry.” Bianca quickly pulls her shirt closed, making Courtney laugh. “I usually know the name of the person that I'm getting naked with.” Bianca chuckles weakly, knowing she’s making a fool of herself.
“I used to care about that, but the name tags kept falling off during the orgies, so now I’m more chill.” Courtney flashes a coy smile, toying with one of her long pigtails.
Bianca looks at her for a moment before grinning back, revealing deep dimples.
“You’re trouble.”
“No, actually I'm Courtney.” Courtney shakes Bianca's perfectly manicured hand.
“Bianca.” Courtney’s heart deflates just a little when she catches sight of the huge diamond glittering on Bianca’s finger.
“Great,” Courtney breathes. “Now we can get naked.”
“Right. Speaking of which, I need you to...uh...disrobe. Please,” Bianca says, knowing that this is the weirdest part of her job.
Courtney doesn’t appear to be fazed, whipping off her top and kicking off her shorts, posing seductively in her bra and panties.
Bianca clears her throat, wondering if she was ever that free-spirited, even when she was young and single, and deciding...probably not. She consults her chart, trying not to ogle the tan, lithe body in front of her.
“Courtney...you’re standing in for Eliza, right?”
“Yup, that’s what they tell me.”
“Alright, so let’s double check your measurements and then do I have a dress for you.” Bianca begins to measure her, jotting down the numbers in her binder.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you’re gonna love it. Sexiest you’ll ever look. I can tell it’s gonna be right up your alley. Don’t steal it. I know you’ll be tempted.”
Courtney giggles. “Well, now I can’t wait to see it.”
Bianca finishes, then walks over and pulls a dress off the rack. Baby blue, buttons up to the neck, ankle length. She swings it from the hangar, ambling back over to Courtney with a smirk.
“Miss Eliza is fresh off the train in this scene. Nice little midwestern girl, uncorrupted by Hollywood's evil ways. We’ve got a matching bonnet, too.”
“Oh my god…” Courtney laughs, looking at the dress, hands over her cheeks. “Well, that’s almost as modest as what I wore to church yesterday.”
Bianca throws back her head and laughs.
“Oh really? You were in church yesterday?”
“Well. I was at The Abbey yesterday.” She holds up her arms so that Bianca can help slip it over her head. “It used to be a church. Now it’s...gay church. AKA Sunday Funday.”
“Same thing, eh?” Bianca laughs.
“Exactly.”
“Let me just make sure the hem hits you properly and then we can deal with the hat.” Bianca finishes fastening the buttons and kneels down to adjust the hem. “It’s really something else. Beth wants me to-”
“What are those things?!” Courtney suddenly shrieks happily, eyes wide with delight.
“Oh, those are my dogs. Samson and Delilah.”
“They are fucking tiny, holy shit!” Courtney squeals, looking at the tiny little chihuahuas sleeping in what appears to be a purse with a mesh side. Sammy yawns, and Bianca gives a small chuckle.
“Yeah, they’re pocket-sized.”
“Pocket-sized bougie little purse dogs. I fucking love it.” Courtney laughs. “They don't even look like dogs.”
“Nah, they're basically rats who bark. Alright, dress is good. Time for the real magic.” Bianca holds up a demure blue hat with long dangling ribbons.
“Dear god,” Courtney mutters.
Bianca laughs, placing the bonnet on her head and tying the ribbons into a neat bow.
“Precious,” she says, with an amused nod. “Can you stand over by that wall?”
“Sure.” Courtney poses for the Polaroid camera, eyes smoldering.
“Okay, you’re good to go. Here are your shoes. Come back at the end of the day so we can check you out...I’m sure you know the drill.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” Courtney slips on the shoes, then gathers her clothes, stuffing everything into her bag. She points at the dogs. “I am gonna cuddle the shit out of you real soon, and that’s a promise.”
“They can’t wait, I’m sure,” Bianca replies, biting back a grin.
“Thanks!”
As Bianca watches her leave, she realizes that there’s an unfamiliar warmth spreading in her chest - she’s already anticipating the blonde’s return. She takes a deep breath.
“Jamie!”
The PA runs in, breathless, grimacing in pain, standing in the doorway with an expectant, worried look.
“Are you in the mood for some Starbucks?” Bianca asks.
“I...what?” Jamie blinks at her.
Bianca smiles kindly, handing over her credit card.
“You’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you take a break and go grab something? I could use a real coffee, too, instead of this crafty stuff.”
“I...okay. Thanks!” Jamie accepts the card tentatively. She seems slightly suspicious, but doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Send in the next actor before you leave, okay?” Bianca grins again, flashing her dimples at the girl, and then goes back to her clipboard, a faint smile still on her face.
***
At lunchtime, Bianca sits with her boss, Beth, and the art department girls they’ve worked with on three shows. She listens in on all the latest gossip: the shake-ups in the writer’s room, who’s getting fired, and potential new scenes they’ll have to prepare for in the coming weeks. She sees Courtney walking towards their table with her tray and waves.
“Hey,” the blonde says. “Room for one more?”
“Sure, but...you don’t want to sit with the other talent?” Bianca asks her with a soft smile.
“Talent?” Courtney chuckles, sliding into a seat. “I’m a stand-in. I’m not talent; I’m a human prop.”
“Well, that’s a refreshing level of self-awareness,” Bianca laughs. “And hey, props are important too. That’s Katie, she takes props very seriously.” Bianca gestures to a brunette at the end of the table.
“Hi!” Courtney waves, shrugging good-naturedly, then says, “I’m not saying I don’t have talent. I’m just not being paid for it on this particular production. I have many talents, actually.” She licks her fork, fingers toying with the buttons on her dress.
“Good to know.” Bianca swallows, heart racing. She can feel her cheeks heating up as she watches, thighs pressed together under the table. She’s unable to tear her eyes from Courtney’s, trying to figure out if the naughty expression that flashed across her face was real or imaginary.
Beth exchanges pointed look with Sarah, the production designer, and then they both go back to eating.
Suddenly, there’s a flurry of activity as the set PAs come rushing around with new call sheets.
“What the fuck, this is a whole ‘nother set!” Sarah exclaims. “We’ve been dressing the library all day, why are we suddenly shooting in Mr. Harris’ office?!”
“Miranda needs a root canal, Jay had to switch it.”
“Motherfucker!”
The art girls jump up, screaming frantically into their walkies, and Beth huffs, exasperated, choking down a few mouthfuls of her lunch.
“I guess I better go get the new wardrobe ready. It looks like the boys are back in their Day 4 looks.”
Bianca rises to follow her.
“No, you stay and eat. You’ve been here since 6. I’ll get Jamie and Chris to help me. Seriously, eat,” she repeats, when Bianca protests.
And suddenly Bianca and Courtney are left alone at the table. Bianca smiles awkwardly, flashing her dimples.
“Never a dull moment, eh?” Courtney asks.
“Nope,” Bianca agrees.
“So...how long have you been married?” Courtney gestures to the impressive rock on Bianca’s finger.
“Oh, uh…” Bianca looks down, playing with her ring. “A little over six months. But I’ve been with my husband since we were like 18, so...sometimes it feels like forever.” She bites her lip, trying not to get distracted by Courtney’s green eyes, how bright and attentive they are.
“Aww, that’s so sweet. And a little gross,” Courtney jokes, then says, “I'm sure he’s lovely.”
Courtney lays her hand on top of Bianca's, rubbing her thumb along the ring, gazing into her eyes.
“Um. Yeah,” Bianca replies hoarsely. “What...what about you? Any...uh…” Bianca’s mind is mush.
“Nah. I’ve been single for almost two years. But it’s been pretty fun, because I’m kind of going through a slutty phase.” Courtney wraps her tongue around the straw of her drink, holding Bianca’s gaze, eyelashes fluttering.
Bianca clears her throat. What the fuck is wrong with her? She deals with stunning actors every single day. Beautiful, naked young actors, who she has to measure and dress and it’s never caused her to bat an eye. Like Farrah, the girl who is actually playing the part of Eliza, the one Courtney is a stand-in for. She’s got the same build, same blonde hair, a beautiful face by any objective measure. But despite having met her 4 times for fittings over the last week, Bianca isn’t positive she could pick her out of a line-up of other young Hollywood blondes. And now here’s this girl with a dress buttoned up to her chin, and Bianca’s palms are sweating just looking into her mischievous, flashing green eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here, cunt?!” someone asks, and Courtney finally breaks her gaze with Bianca to look in the direction of the voice. A tall, pouty-lipped girl with messy blue ombre hair, wearing a flannel shirt, a trucker hat that reads ‘I ❤ TITTIES & BEER’ and a tool belt full of mic packs.
“Adore? You’re on this show?” Courtney squeals delightedly.
“Apparently, chola! Hey!” Adore grins and slides onto the bench beside her, giving her a hug. She and Courtney had been friends (and occasional fuck buddies) for about three years. The type of friendship where, when they’re together, they’re joined-at-the-hip, ride-or-die besties, but can also go weeks at a time without talking. Which explains why neither of them knew about their current jobs – Courtney as stand-in and Adore in the sound department.
“Hiya, love,” Courtney laughs. “Nice hat.”
“I see you already found yourself a hot girlfriend, first day. Nice work, whore,” Adore nods appreciatively in Bianca’s direction, pinching Courtney’s thigh.
“Adore, this is Bianca. She’s in wardrobe and she’s a respectable married heterosexual woman.”
“Ew, why?” Adore wrinkles her nose.
“Why what?” Bianca asks, sitting up straight, bracing for trouble. She immediately dislikes this blue-haired, foul-mouthed young woman.
“Nevermind,” Adore says dismissively, then turns back to Courtney. “Bitch, you’re coming to Roosterfish on Thursday, right?”
“Of course.”
“Rad. Wear something pretty and maybe you’ll get lucky.” Adore gives her a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth and then gets up, sauntering away, cables dangling from her hip like a rope.
Bianca follows the girl’s swinging hips and round ass, wondering what the deal is between her and Courtney, and why she suddenly feels possessive over someone she just met that morning.
“She’s cute,” Bianca manages to force out.
“Oh yeah. She’s so much fun, too. We met on this god-awful indie film, years ago. I swear I’ve worked on student films that were less of a tragic mess than that disaster. Having someone around with a sense of humor saved me from a nervous breakdown. We’ve been friends ever since.”
“That’s cool.”
“And the sex isn’t bad either.”
Bianca coughs, spitting out some of her diet coke. Courtney sips her own drink, batting her eyes innocently as Bianca attempts to recover some dignity.
***
After a long, exhausting first day of shooting, Bianca finally arrives home to her Brentwood condo - a modern, pristine two-bedroom, tastefully decorated in shades gray. She walks over to the sofa and collapses, arm over her eyes, muscles aching. She’s not sure how long she’s been laying there - maybe 3 minutes, maybe 5, when she hears the front door open.
“Hey…” she calls weakly.
Jared chuckles, striding over to her and jumping onto the couch to lay beside her.
“Rough day?”
“Mmmmm…” She snuggles against him.
“So I guess this means there’s no dinner?”
Bianca opens one eye and scowls at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, I’m hungry.” Jared kisses her cheek. “And Willam and Matt are coming over at 8 to work on the presentation for Joe, so, you know...we need to feed them.”
“Babe, I’ve been up since 4 am. Can’t we just order in?” Bianca runs her fingers through Jared’s light brown hair, pouting.
“Awww, you’re tired? After one day of playing dress up?” Jared mocks her in a teasing tone, snickering. “You just had a month off, you lazy bitch.”
Bianca narrows her eyes at him, tongue pressed into her cheek. There’s a long heated moment. His eyes dance with laughter, challenging her to fight back. But she won’t give him the satisfaction.
“I think there’s salmon and pesto in the fridge,” she finally says.
He grins, sliding his hands around her waist, kissing her neck.
“Good girl,” he growls against her skin, pulling her close.
She sighs against him, arching forward, then meets his lips for a deep kiss, grasping his hair, thrusting her hips forward.
“Oh, fuck…” he breathes, digging his fingers into her ass.
She bites softly at his bottom lip, grinding down against him, earning another groan, and then, without any warning, she jumps off the couch with a saucy wink.
“Later, babe. I need to cook, remember?”
He leans back, panting, chuckling slightly.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he calls after her, eyes glued to her ass as she ambles into the kitchen, laughing gaily.
***
Courtney’s been staring down at her phone for the last 5 minutes, texting someone, while Bianca works on Linda, one of the day players. She’s giggling softly to herself, a sly smile on her face, Dede curled in her lap. Bianca tries not to obsess about who could possibly be captivating her attention so completely, but it’s proving to be quite a challenge. Finally, she finishes with Linda and turns to Courtney, clearing her throat.
“Alright, blondie. You’re up,” Bianca says, lifting the dog out of her lap and placing her back into the carrier.
Courtney stands, tilting her phone towards Bianca to reveal a picture taken earlier in the dressing room.
“Is this picture sexy or desperate?” she asks sweetly.
“Um...I guess it depends where you crop it,” Bianca says, swallowing.
“Good point.” Courtney laughs.
“Who ya texting?” Bianca asks, playfully batting her eyes.
“My friend, Violet. I guess she’s sort of an ex, too.” She looks at Bianca for a moment, trying to read the expression on her face. Is she jealous? Courtney decides that she might like that.
“Violet...huh.”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve just found that girls with color names typically have a high rate of STDs,” Bianca says casually, shrugging.
“Oh really?” Courtney raises one eyebrow.
“Mmm…” Bianca goes back to pinning her dress.
“Doesn’t Bianca mean ‘white’?” Courtney asks sweetly.
“Go fuck yourself!” Bianca barks quickly, causing Courtney to burst out laughing.
“I think I actually might when I get home."
“Ughhhh, too much,” Bianca groans, shaking her head, trying to stop the dimples from appearing on her cheeks.
Courtney giggles and goes back to her phone.
“Seriously, what’s up? You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”
“Nothing,” Courtney smirks.
“Really?”
“We’ve just barely seen each other since I lived in Australia, since she’s always on tour when I go back.”
“On tour? For what?”
Courtney looks up, straight into Bianca’s bright blue eyes, as she says, “She’s a burlesque dancer.”
“You seriously fucked a burlesque dancer?” Bianca tries not to gape, openmouthed.
“I didn’t say I fucked her….but I did.” Courtney twirls her hair, a coy smile on her lips.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Actually, she’s was my first, back in the day.” Courtney sighs dreamily, one eye carefully watching Bianca’s reaction.
“Your first time having sex was with a burlesque dancer?”
“I mean, she wasn’t a burlesque dancer then.”
“Sure, but Jesus. What is your life? My first time was with a person who’s still living in my hometown, married with three kids, working as like, a hospital administrator.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s lovely too,” Courtney assures her, laughing. “Anyway, she’s coming to town this weekend so I want to think of something fun to...”
Bianca sticks her tongue into her cheek as Courtney continues. She supposes it’s her fault. She did use gender-ambiguous language. Intentionally? she wonders. And she is married to a man, so Courtney is only making the same assumption about her sexuality that everyone else always makes. But she can’t help but be the slightest, tiniest bit disappointed that this opportunity to reveal a deeper truth about herself passed by without her doing anything about it, the moment fizzling now like flat champagne.
“...what’s a good synonym for ‘thrust’?”
“Uh…” Bianca wrinkles her nose.
Thankfully, she’s saved from the awkwardness of helping Courtney with her sexting by one of the Production Office PAs coming in to get their orders for a Starbucks run. Bianca asks for a venti dark roast with a splash of cream. He turns to Courtney.
“Would you like anything, Ms. Hamilton?”
“Ummm, sure,” Courtney says, looking up from her phone. “Can I get a bottle of coconut water? But, only if they have the kind that’s fair trade, like Harmless Harvest - with the green cap.” She flashes a cute smile.
“Sure thing.” He ducks out of the trailer.
“Good god,” Bianca mutters, pinning the waist of her dress.
“What?”
“You’re just a lot.”
Courtney holds up her phone, pursing her lips to take a selfie.
“I know,” she says replies brightly, lashes fluttering.
***
“Okay, so, since we’re dealing with all the outerwear tomorrow, and it’s gonna be like 85 degrees, Neil said we can bring on another PA to help,” Beth says, scanning the legal pad in her lap as Bianca listens attentively. “I’m putting you in charge of her, so just give her the rundown in the morning and make sure she’s on set all day to take care of the talent and keep the coats tagged, etc.”
“Got it,” Bianca says.
“Alright, so we’ve got the boys in their power suits, Eliza in the little salmon sweetheart number, Margie’s pencil-”
“Hi, sorry to interrupt…”
Bianca and Beth turn towards Courtney, leaning against the screen door, an apologetic look on her face.
“Um, they want me to hold a glass in the next scene and Joey asked me to get rid of the red nails. Do you guys have any polish remover?” Courtney wiggles her fingers, showing her short, bright red nails.
“Sorry, no,” Bianca replies. “Maybe try makeup?”
“Oh, right. Cheers! Sorry again!” Courtney skips down the steps, skirt flouncing. Bianca watches her, how the big swirling skirt accentuates her tiny waist, blonde hair shining in the sunlight.
“Marjorie’s in the pencil skirt. I’m not thrilled with how the top is looking. Maybe if we add a wrap, or something to...B? You listening?”
“Hmmm? Yeah.” Bianca looks back at Beth, who has a bemused expression on her face. “What?”
Beth presses her lips together, shaking her head.
“Nothing.”
Bianca narrows her eyes.
“So we’re adding a wrap to Marjorie’s ensemble? Should it be green to stay within her color story for the episode, or you wanna add some contrast?”
“Let’s stick to the color story,” Beth replies, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
***
“Is that just an entire plate of cheesy mashed potatoes?” Courtney asks Adore, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Yeah, I’m carbing up.” Adore shovels a huge bite into her mouth.
“Gross,” Courtney says, taking a delicate bite of her broccoli.
“Whatever, judgey.”
“Bianca! Hi!” Courtney waves Bianca over enthusiastically.
“Hey.”
“Um, wanna sit?”
Bianca shifts, glancing over to her usual table, where Beth and her other wardrobe department co-workers sit, along with the art girls. She takes a breath and slides in beside Adore, unable to say no to Courtney’s bright smile, setting the dog carrier on the bench.
“Sure. Hey, Adore.”
“Yo.”
“I’m glad I caught you. It totally slipped my mind earlier but I’ve actually got something for you.” Courtney picks up a large handbag and while she’s rifling through it, Adore looks over at Bianca and mouths “her pussy.”
Bianca makes a face at Adore, who throws back her head and laughs.
Without even looking up, Courtney says, “Adore, would you stop?”
“Sorry, boo,” Adore giggles, not looking the slightest bit sorry.
“Okay, so, I don’t know what your stance is on putting dogs in clothes, but I saw these and I couldn’t resist,” Courtney says, putting two tiny outfits on the table. “And you know...it’s not like they’re real dogs anyway.”
“Oh my god,” Bianca opens her mouth in amazement, laughing. She turns to the dogs, who are scratching at the mesh on the side of the bag. “What do you guys think? Yeah, I think she’s crazy too.”
There’s a little dress covered in daisies, and overalls with a turquoise plaid shirt.
“I got one that’s high femme, and one that’s sort of soft butch. You can choose who wears what. I’m not trying to push gender labels on them simply because of biological sex.”
“That’s nice. Very open-minded.”
“Yeah.” Courtney flutters her lashes.
“Can’t wait to see Jared’s face when Sammy’s wearing a dress,” she snickers.
“But they’re cute, huh?”
“Super cute. That’s...I mean. Thanks.” Bianca grins, dimples deep in her cheeks.
“You’re very welcome. Hopefully your spoiled, bougie purse rats wear them in good health.”
“Shut up, they’re perfect.” Bianca laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Perfectly hideous. That’s right! You are!” She reaches over to scratch Sammy behind the ears through the small opening in the bag.
“Asshole!”
Courtney giggles and kicks her under the table.
“Jesus, get a room,” Adore laughs.
Bianca turns to scowl at her.
“Sorry.” Adore shoves another bite of potatoes in her mouth. “Damn, why is everyone so touchy today?”
***
“So then Alexis texted me and told me she had a huge crush on Shea, who is Sasha's girlfriend,” Courtney explains while Bianca pins up her hem.
“The lesbian community is shook!” Bianca deadpans, when she looks down at her phone, seeing a text from Roxy, Jared's assistant.
ROXY: Hey girl. I just got a job with WME so I told Jared I’m leaving. He seems pretty pissed. I’m sorry, I really like you but you know how it is. If you ever need anything just text me ok💕
Bianca pauses for a moment, a little puzzled, before typing out a reply. She really liked Roxy, but she’s a little confused about why the girl thinks she would need something. She supposes she’s just trying to be polite.
BIANCA: All good, hon. Best of luck.
“Bianca Del Rio!” Courtney exclaims dramatically, hands on her hips, annoyed that her attention was diverted from her thrilling story of Westside lesbian drama.
“Sorry Court.” Bianca sighs.
“What just happened?” Courtney asks, expression softening.
“Jared just lost another assistant.”
“Another?”
“Yeah, his company has a hell of a time hanging onto people. This girl was great though, I really thought she’d stay. But she got a better offer, and so...hang on, let me check on him.”
BIANCA: I just heard about Roxy. You alright?
JARED: Whatever. That cunt didn’t even give two weeks notice. Fuck her.
“Well, seems like his pride is a little wounded,” Bianca says, chuckling softly. “I’m gonna have a very sad boy when I get home.”
“Aww.”
“Yeah. Poor baby.”
“Masculinity is so fragile,” Courtney comments, examining her nails.
“Oh my god, tell me about it. I just pray this doesn’t turn into a week-long sulk fest.”
“I’ll try to manifest some positive energy for you,” Courtney says sweetly.
“Yeah, thanks.” Bianca goes back to the hem. “I’m sure that’ll change everything.”
“Oh! Oh my god, so listen. Apparently, Sasha found out about what Alexis said, but didn’t tell Shea, but then started acting all weird around her, and so Shea is totally confused, and then…”
***
“Sasha, why don’t you just tell Shea? I don’t really get what you’re trying to accomplish here?”
“Because I’m not trying to start drama?” Sasha rolls her eyes. “Shea and Alexis are friends. Maybe Alexis didn’t mean anything deep by it.”
“But you’re being weird!” Courtney exclaims, laughing.
“I am not! You’re just perceiving my actions as weird because you’re expecting me to be weird, making it somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I, however, am acting entirely within the scope of normal rational behavior. You need to chill.” Sasha sips her drink delicately.
Courtney’s known Sasha for years - nearly since she moved to LA, when Sasha was in high demand in the fashion world for her androgynous aesthetic, steely blue eyes, and killer cheekbones. Now, she’s traded in the shaved head for a burgundy China doll cut, and works as a sculpture artist and Associate Professor of Russian Literature at Loyola Marymount. She can usually intellectualize her way out of anything, but Courtney isn’t buying it tonight.
“I am chill, Sash. I’m just trying to give you some advice, before everything turns into a shit show, and you-”
“Heyyyyy,” Adore interrupts, a sleepy, drunken smile on her face, slurring, “Courtney, maybe you shouldn’t be giving anyone advice right now? Like, seriously?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Courtney asks, cutting her eyes at Adore.
“Courtney’s in love with a straight girl,” Adore explains. Sasha looks at Courtney with a mixture of horror and delight.
“Fuck off, am not!” Courtney turns away, flipping her hair in Adore’s face.
“Okay, sorry. Courtney’s trying to bang a straight girl,” Adore corrects herself, attempting to spit out the mouthful of blonde tresses.
“I am not,” Courtney laughs.
“Are too! You’ve been flirting your sweet ass off all week, you little slut.” Adore smacks her on the ass.
“Not even! We’re just friends, cause she’s she’s cool, and funny-”
“And hot.”
“So what? Like I’m not supposed to be friends with someone because they’re hot? That would be...discriminatory,” Courtney says.
“Like racism, practically.” Adore nods mockingly.
“Yeah. Practically racism,” Courtney agrees, giggling.
Shea and Pearl approach the group with a fresh round of drinks.
“What’s practically racism? Are you fucking white girls doing that false equivalency bullshit again? You know I hate that.”
“I know you do, and I would never,” says Sasha, kissing her. Courtney smiles.
“I’m not white,” says Adore.
“You’re white enough to piss me off in this context. Take your shot,” Shea orders.
“It was a joke; Adore was mocking me,” Courtney explains.
“Oh, well in that case…” Shea holds up her shot glass. “To mocking those who ask for it.” She winks at Courtney as they all down their shots.
“You’re such a bitch,” Courtney laughs, wiping her mouth.
“I know, but that’s why you love me, right?” Shea replies, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
“Let’s dance, you boring cunts!” Adore yells, grabbing Courtney’s hand, causing her to let out a gleeful shriek.
***
“Should I be embarrassed that you have to take in every one of these dresses because of how small my tits are?”
Bianca laughs, pressing down the pedal of the sewing machine.
“Are you embarrassed? Because you seem pretty confident to me…”
Courtney is currently twirling on a stool, topless, in her underwear, waiting for Bianca to be finished with the alterations. She holds both of the dogs in her arms, so thankfully Bianca isn’t so distracted that she sews through her hand, which she’d almost done earlier. Courtney thinks for a moment.
“Well...I mean I guess it’s good that I’m basically flat chested. It does allow me to get jobs, like this one, as the body double for a 16 year old.”
“Wait a second. Farrah is sixteen?”
“Yeah.”
Bianca stares at Courtney, flabbergasted, making her laugh.
“Why did you think they need a full-time double?”
“I dunno, I just figured she was expensive and they wanted to save cash. She was on that Disney show, and doesn’t she have a movie coming out with-”
“She’s not expensive. She’s just underage.”
“Jesus. They need to stop putting so much makeup on her. The first time I met her, I wasn’t sure if her or her mother was the younger one,” Bianca says, finishing the stitching and standing up with the dress.
Courtney puts down the dogs and walks towards Bianca.
“Oh my god, her mother. Miss Trinity Taylor. I think she’s only 30-something, so that makes sense. But you’re right, they do pile a lot of makeup on Farrah’s little face.”
“Although the more I talked to Trinity, the older she seemed. I think she must have gotten a bad batch of botox between the first time I met her and now, too.
“You mean that droopy lid? Yeah, hopefully that goes away.” Courtney giggles, lifting her arms so that Bianca can slip the dress over her head.
“Bless her heart…” Bianca murmurs, straightening the dress.
“Bless her heart. You know, say what you will about the American south. But you guys do have the nicest way of saying ‘fuck that bitch.’”
Bianca bursts out laughing.
“We do!” she agrees. “We really do.”
***
Bianca and Jamie check in the wardrobe at the end of the day, carefully tagging everything and making sure that they have polaroids and that the binders are complete.
Bianca nods appreciatively at the PA’s notes in the binder for the background talent. “Good work,” she tells her.
Jamie smiles, wheeling a rack into the other trailer, a blush rising to her cheeks. Bianca realizes that it may be the first compliment she’s given her all week. She sighs, hanging up a garment bag, trying not to listen in on the conversation that Courtney’s having behind the curtain as she changes.
“...No, I told you, the key was in the flower pot...the African violets, get it?!...Anyway, glad you found it...Yeah, I’m almost done here, so we’ll meet you at the theatre…With bells on, love...Adore wants a lap dance, so please make that happen...I’ll send you her picture...Yes, she’s hot...I’m hanging up now...You’re terrible, Muriel.”
Courtney emerges from the changing room and hands Bianca her dress, backpack on her shoulder.
Bianca tries to keep her voice light as she asks, “Your burlesque dancer?”
“Yeah. She and some of the other girls are staying with me this weekend. Hopefully my house is still standing when I get there tonight. They’ve been in my hot tub, drinking my wine all afternoon.”
“Mhmm.” Bianca says. “Sounds like you’ve got a fun weekend in store.” Bianca isn’t sure why, but the thought of not seeing her for two days is making her feel strange, like a weight bearing down on her chest.
“Let’s hope so!” Courtney replies cheerfully.
“Court! Hurry up!” Adore barks from outside the trailer. “I’m hungry and that means I’m cranky…”
Courtney heads for the door, turning around to say goodbye.
“See you on Monday, B.” She flashes a sunny smile, then suddenly looks a little embarrassed. “Shit, is that okay? Do people call you that?”
Dimples appear in Bianca's cheeks as she smiles back.
“Yeah. B’s fine. See you Monday.”
Courtney pulls open the door, hesitating for one more second, glancing over her shoulder at Bianca.
“Courtney! Come on!”
“Bye…” She skips down the trailer steps.
“Goodnight.” As the screen door swings shut, Bianca collapses into her chair, face buried in her arms.
#rpdr fanfiction#bianca del rio#courtney act#bitney#adore delano#oc#lesbian au#fluff#angst#undone#sasha velour#shea coulee#stephanie#veronica#tw emotional abuse
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Live Forever - Chapter 1 (Group Fic)
a/n: A self-indulgent Grey’s Anatomy AU ft. literally everyone.
I’ve got a fair few ships in mind but this will be pretty Shalaska-centric, with sprinklings of other ships that I won’t spoil. This chapter is pretty short (I did it for you mobile users) but, GCSE workload permitting, they should get longer. Also, this is my first fic here so if you have anything at all to say about this clusterfuck of queens-as-doctors, teach me how to use tumblr so I can know!
Enjoy, lovelies!
The first thing that crossed Alaska’s mind when she woke up is that she was screwed. Honest to god, abso-fucking-lutely, no way out of it, screwed. The second thing she thought was that great surgeons are never late. Especially not when they’re starting their first day as an intern at one of the best surgical programs in the country.
Which is why opening her eyes on the living room floor, with a pounding headache and a naked stranger lying next to her, was a complete and utter disaster.
Cursing her nearby bar and their stupid Tequila Thursdays, Alaska hauled herself to her feet. Light streamed in through the open window, not a good sign, and so Alaska took a deep breath, said a quick prayer to the patron saint of ill-advised sexual encounters, and checked her watch. “Fuck me!”
“I mean sure. I’ll go for round two.” Even better. Drunk bar hook-up whose name Alaska couldn’t remember except that it might have possibly been Karen, was awake. Just what she needed.
Alaska sighed heavily, spinning around to look for the bra that she was sure had been there last night, amidst the piles of boxes and stacks of clothes and books. “Look, you need to go.”
“Is this yours?” The girl, although still sprawled out naked on top of Alaska’s favourite rug, was holding her black bralette aloft in one pale hand. How humiliating.
She snatched it from the girl’s grip, trying to ignore the flush rising on her cheeks. “Thanks.” Alaska stared pointedly at the door, but Erin, or whoever, didn’t move. “Seriously, can you leave. I’m late, which isn’t a good idea on your first day of work, so….”
“Nice place you’ve got here.” Shannon smirked, letting the pointless small talk roll off her tongue so slowly that Alaska wanted to strangle her. “Is it yours?”
“Yes, kind of. It’s my mothers. But I’m selling it.” Manon opened her mouth as if to speak again, but Alaska cut her off. “We don’t have to do the thing.” At her blank look, Alaska elaborated, reciting off the spiel that she’d used on every one night stand since her second year of college. “You know, exchange details, pretend to care, all that stuff. It’s been really great but I’m gonna go upstairs and have a shower and when I get back down here you won’t be here. So, goodbye, um–?”
“Sharon.”
“Right. Alaska.”
“Alaska?” The corner of Sharon’s mouth crooked up and that time it seemed less mocking, more genuine somehow. Alaska got a look at her properly for the first time that morning. Platinum blonde hair falling messily around high cheekbones, plump lips, icy blue eyes - Shit. She was even more attractive than Alaska remembered her being last night, which, God knows, is a fucking rarity. “Nice meeting you, Alaska.”
“Bye, Sharon.” Alaska dashed up the stairs, her heart beating a mile a minute and a familiar warmth pooling in her stomach.
Great. This was all she needed.
Alaska arrived at the hospital sooner than she’d expected and she reached the designated O.R just as Chief Visage was working her way through an introductory speech. The chief caught Alaska’s eye, but a brief purse of her bright red lips was the only punishment she got.
The twenty or so interns were left to eye each other up, circling around the operating table like vultures. Alaska knew that not all of them would make it through their internships and she couldn’t help but wonder which of them would be gone come two years time.
Maybe the petite blonde, practically bouncing around the room in excitement. Or the redhead across from her, a wide, lazy grin on her face. Perhaps the thin, modelesque girl with the bitchy expression on her perfect face or the handsome guy smirking in the corner, or–
It could be her.
Alaska might be one of the eight that switch to an easier speciality, part of the five that crack under the pressure, a member of the two that get asked to leave. And as much as that scared the shit out of her, Alaska knew that she wouldn’t let it happen. She was a good surgeon, and nothing, nothing, would distract her from playing the game she knew that she needed to play to win.
“Right, Coulee, Velour, Taylor, Moore, with me.” Names were called across the already loud locker room and Alaska strained her ears to try and catch her own. She’d been sitting and waiting for her resident for what felt like hours, and there were only so many times that she could adjust her stethoscope or re-button her lab coat.
The numbers dwindled until there were five of them left, sitting on the wooden bench in the now-quiet room.
“Got Del Rio?” The girl closest to her asked, her voice a strong Aussie twang. Alaska nodded wordlessly, nerves clogging up her throat, but the Australian just beamed back, apparently completely at ease.
“Hey, so do I.” It was the gorgeous brunette, striding across the room towards the two blondes. She walked like she owned the place, head held high, and Alaska couldn’t help but feel intimidated. “They call him the Nazi.”
“I’ve got him too. At least we’ll be tortured together, right?” The ginger woman opposite them offered, stuffing a hoodie back into her locker. She had kind eyes and Alaska immediately felt more comfortable. “I’m Jinkx Monsoon.”
“Act, Chachki, Belli, Monsoon, Thunder.” At the sound of their names the group of interns rose tentatively, making their way down the hallway that the doctor gestured to. A woman stood at the end of it, short and unassuming in stature, her caramel hair twisted into a glossy updo.
Chachki sniffed, and Alaska could practically hear the disappointment in her voice. “That’s the Nazi? I thought she’d be more…”
“Terrifying? Yeah. But that’s good right, having a nice resident?” The Aussie offered hopefully, earning a withering glare from the brunette and a scoff from the curly haired man.
“Nice usually equals incompetent. So no, blondie, we don’t want a resident that’s all sunshine and fucking rainbows. We want a good surgeon.”
Act sniffed, obviously put out by Belli’s dismissiveness. “Well, it never hurts to be nice.” She approached the Nazi, extending a dainty, manicured hand. “Hi, I’m Dr Act. But you can call me Courtney, or Court, or whatever. I don’t mind.”
Del Rio turned, looking at Courtney’s dainty hand like she’d been performing rectal exams all day. “I have five rules,” she barked, her voice loud and harsh, and Courtney jumped back like she’d been shot.
“Rule Number One. Don’t try to kiss my arse, I don’t want you there. Whatever you think it’s gonna get you, it won’t. Me hating you, it’s not going to change. Two, answer every page at a run.”
She shoved a pager into each of their hands, the black metal cold and unfamiliar between Alaska’s fingers. Jinkx leaned in towards Alaska as they followed Del Rio down countless identical, sterilised corridors.
“Looks like Belli and Chachki got their wish, huh?” Alaska allowed a small smile to play on her lips before focusing again, trying to take in the information that their resident was shouting at them.
The hospital flashed by Alaska in a blur, and she could only catch brief snapshots: a burn victim being rushed past on a gurney, nurses surrounding a hospital bed, a glimpse of peroxide blonde hair. Almost immediately Alaska was transported back to last night at the bar, her cloudy memories suddenly crystal clear. She saw herself, throwing back shots until the room spun and her heart beat faster in her chest. Catching the eyes of the woman across the room, her mauve lips stretching into a wide grin as Alaska waved. The girl, no, Sharon, walking over with a can of PBR in her hand and talking together for what must have been hours, before making their way back to Alaska’s house.
But then came the harsh reality of morning, the knowledge that no matter how funny or charismatic Sharon had been, Alaska was a surgical intern. She had to work, eat, sleep repeat. Even if she did have time for someone other than a patient in her life, what was the chance that this beautiful woman would be able to understand the demands of her job. What sane person would agree to a girlfriend whose time was not her own, who worked ridiculous hours, who had to be on call day and night? Certainly not Shar-
“Thunder? Watch where you’re going.” Alaska stumbled back, recoiling from the impact of crashing into Dr Del Rio and trying to ignore Belli and Chachki’s muffled giggles. “What was Rule Number Four.”
“Four, uhm…” Alaska stuttered, desperately hoping that whatever information Del Rio had been spouting had somehow absorbed into her brain via osmosis. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t know.”
“Well, Dr Thunder,” Del Rio hissed, “Maybe you’d like to get your head out of your pretty blonde arse, and listen to what I’m trying to teach you. Unless you think you’re too good for us?” Alaska shook her head hurriedly, staring down at the white tiled floor. “No? Good. Rule Number Four is to always do what I tell you to do. Answer my pages immediately, take the patient I assign you, and, Thunder, listen to me when I speak. Clear?”
They pulled to a stop at the main nurses station, where a folder was shoved into each of their hands by an exhausted-looking nurse. Alaska could hear Jinkx’s heaving breaths beside her as they flicked through their files, and even her own heart was pounding in her chest. If every day was like this she’d have to invest in some running shoes.
“Excuse me, Dr Del Rio?” Chachki raised an a hand tentatively in the air. God, if even that stone-cold bitch was afraid of their resident, Alaska knew that Del Rio was legitimately terrifying. Even in the face of Del Rio’s arched, perfectly-plucked eyebrow raising in a way that was somehow threatening, Chachki continued, “Didn’t you say that there were five rules?”
The resident’s brow shot up even higher, and Alaska made a mental note to find out who her beautician was.
“Well, Dr Chachki, since you’re dying to know - Number Five. Do not wake me when I am sleeping, unless your patient is on the brink of death. Speaking of, I have to make it through 48 hours with you fucking imbeciles, so I am taking a nap. All the information you need is in those packs. Try not to kill too many people.”
With that piece of advice, she strode off, the harsh white lights glinting off her honey highlights. Alaska looked at the four interns next to her, suddenly realising how alone and incompetent they were in a massive hospital, full of busy professionals who actually had a single clue about what they were doing. They all looked at each other, and Alaska could see her own insecurities reflected clearly in their eyes.
“Well,” Jinkx murmured, splitting the nervous silence in two. “She’s a fucking delight.”
Willam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, real sweetheart. What’re you guys assigned too?”
“Dr Michaels, pediatrics. Oh, that’ll be so fun, I love kids!” Courtney squealed, her green eyes lighting up as she scanned the page in her hands.
“You practically are one. Did Mummy give you too much go-go juice this morning?”
Courtney furrowed her brows at Willam’s comment. “Why d’you have to be such a dick? Just because I’m trying to stay positive and not complain like a certain person I could mention doesn’t mean I’m a child.”
“Sorry that we can’t all be happy-go-lucky balls of fucking energy, blondie-”
“Do not call me blondie!” Courtney stepped forward so that she was nose to nose with Willam, both of their faces hard and stony with anger. The tension in the air was so thick that Alaska could have sliced it with a 10-blade.
Willam was the first to move back, spitting out another insult. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re exhausting?”
“Oh, I’m exhausting? Well you’re an insufferable prick with a penis the size of a-”
“Shut up! I’ll go insane if I have to listen to your little lover’s quarrel for the next two days.” Violet raised her hand, stopping Willam and Courtney’s vehement protests. “I’m on cardio with Dr Liaison, and if anyone has any idea which direction it’s in, I would be very grateful.”
Alaska tucked her folder under her arm and pointed down the main corridor. “I think it’s down here. I’m on neuro, and I’m pretty sure cardio’s on the way.”
“Great let’s go.” Violet hooked her wrist around Alaska’s bony forearm, dragging her away from the still fuming Willam and Courtney.
“Jesus, they really hate each other,” Alaska commented after a few moments of silence between them. No matter how intimidating this girl was, they’d be spending 100 hours a week together, so Alaska might as well make an effort to get along.
Violet stopped outside a door clearly marked ‘CARDIO’, a vixen-like smile lighting up her sharp face. “Nah. I guarantee they’ll be fucking each other’s brains out in a week. Anyways, enjoy neuro.”
“Yeah, you have fun with cardio,” Alaska replied, but the door had already swung shut behind Violet.
Throngs of scrub-clad people swarmed around her, and for one second, Alaska felt completely lost. It was the first time that she’d been alone in this hospital, this huge building full of sick and dying patients, of people that could make or break her career. She was frozen, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all she wanted to was to just leave-
Then her pager buzzed.
The small noise broke Alaska from her reverie, and she checked the device, the small screen displaying a short series of numbers.
4679, a room number. At least whoever the Dr Needles written in Alaska’s file was had thought about the fact that Alaska would have no clue where to go. The room was just off the next corridor, and, standing before it, Alaska couldn’t help but pinch herself.
Whatever was behind the door to room 4679 was the beginning of the rest of her life.
Steeling her nerves, Alaska pushed open the door…
“Hi Dr Needles, sorry for-”
…And was greeted by platinum blonde hair falling messily around high cheekbones, plump lips, icy blue eyes - Shit. Alaska stopped dead in her tracks.
Oh, she was so fucking screwed.
#shalaska#doctors au#cisgirl au#group fic#sharon needles#alaska thunderfuck#courtney act#willam belli#bianca del rio#violet chachki#jinkx monsoon#rpdr fanfiction#submission#lesbian au#live forever
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cirque d'amour - chapter eleven (trixya) - cal
she’s back back back back again!
THE 1975 FANS — CLOCK THE REFERENCE.
i chose for trixie to perform this song because - hashtag tmi - i’ve been sad and listening to it a lot.
and — trixie played the spice girls song when i saw her in my home city (L)
moastarc.tumblr.com -> come say hey!
A beam of heavy sunlight broke Katya’s slumber.
She woke, not for the first time, with her arms enveloping the deeply sleeping Trixie Mattel. Katya yawned, and winced. It was the Cirque’s final show today. Tomorrow, the Cirque would begin their tour of the states; tomorrow, she would be leaving Trixie behind in the harsh city of Los Angeles.
Katya shuffled closer to her now, longing to be closer to her for the brief amount of time that they had left before they were tore catastrophically apart. Trixie stirred beneath her arms.
“H-huh. Katya?”
Katya gave Trixie a gentle squeeze. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Trixie turned beneath Katya’s embrace, so that she was facing her. Her smile was light against her lips; her face marked and cracked from the hours of tears she had endured the night before.
“How are you feeling?” Katya asked, taking a moment to tuck a flyaway lock of Trixie’s hair away from her face.
“I feel okay.” Trixie said, certainly seeming much calmer than she had done before. Trixie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh god. I’m performing today.”
Katya’s lips parted into a grin. “Oh, bitch. You sure are.”
“What if I mess up?” Trixie immediately began to babble, bunching up the bed-sheets with balled fists. “W-what if I ruin the entire —”
“Tracy Joanne Elizabeth Mattel,” Katya interjected, poking the softness of her freckled nose with an outstretched forefinger. “You won’t.”
“But —”
“You won’t.”
Trixie’s lips parted into a shaky smile, and Katya felt her insides melt.
“Anyway,” Trixie’s breath was a shudder. “Get outta here. I have to make myself look amazing, and I’m sure the cirque won’t be impressed if you show up late with your bed-hair.”
*
“Places, you little fucks, places!”
Alaska, completely de-dragged and speaking in business-like aggression, barked orders at the rabble of Cirque performers. Violet rolled her eyes in Katya’s direction, who stifled a laugh against the palm of her hand.
“It’s not our fault he decided to get fucked up the night before the closing show,” she moaned cattily, a hand on her hip.
Jason was sipping gingerly at a sparkling water every so often, clasping a hand to his forehead with pained dramatics. “Ugh, fuck my life.”
The group had been making final preparations for the show at the Oscars since the break of noon, and Katya was filled with a strange combination of anticipation, fear, and sorrow. She would miss the Oscars, and though a friend of Latrice was resuming the running of the place while they were gone, it was her home.
Jason’s drained eyes raked the group who were stood before him once everyone had gathered. “Okay. I’ve managed to get the press in tonight, so this show needs to be spectacular. It will spread the word about the tour and may even make international news.”
Katya exhaled a strong breath, in sync with the rumble of gasps around her. International? She marvelled for a moment how travelling the earth would feel - sharing her performances, her story, and raising money for the cause - with the world.
“That’s so exciting, ‘Laska!” Latrice beamed, his mouth broken into the hugest of grins.
“Yes, yes,” Jason waved an idle hand at his excitable business partner in dismissal. “So let’s all stick to the script, and make sure you bring your best games tonight.”
“And,” Katya grinned knowingly at Latrice. “We have our trump card.”
Jason eyed Katya warily, their almost flirtatious exchange barely a fortnight earlier seemed like another time entirely. “Trump card? Am I missing something?”
“Trixie Mattel is closing the show!” Latrice threw his arms out with excitement, his head tipped back.
Jason’s eyebrow raised in an instant, redness creeping up his neck. “Who?”
“Trixie Mattel,” Latrice slapped Jason on the back, causing him to stumble slightly. “She was the girl who played with you at the party!”
Jason’s eyebrows knitted together in an irritated frown. “When were you going to run this by me?”
“Ah, 'Lasky, come on,” Latrice’s voice rumbled goodheartedly. “It’s my last night here - our last night - and she’s phenomenal. You can’t deny how she made us all feel.”
Jason seemed to ponder this for a moment, though Katya could guarantee that he had no recollection of his intoxicated swaying when Trixie had stolen the spotlight from him. “Alright, I guess,” Alaska muttered, draining his glass of sparkling water in a single, desperate gulp. “She better be good.”
*
Barely an hour later, the Cirque had collected in the dressing room for the final time. Katya had decided to wear a black bralette and high-rise shorts, with gem tights that glistened in the light. She completed the look with a sexy red heel, and her hair was deliciously wavy.
Roy was sat beside her in the half-way house to becoming Bianca, with a full face of clown make-up and lacking in a wig. Katya had seen her transition more times than she could ever count, but she would never lose her amusement at seeing a wig-less, made-up Bianca Del Rio.
“What are you grinning at, you cunt?” Bianca barked, pressing a huge eyelash to the droop of her lid.
Katya chuckled softly. “Nothing, Bee. Love you.”
“Shut up,” Bianca responded, though her huge, red lips twitched into a tiny smile. “When’s your girlfriend arriving?”
“You shut up,” Katya muttered, pursing her lips around the straw of her mocktail. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Give it 5 minutes and they’ll be a U-Haul parked outside my apartment.”
“Funny.”
Bianca dropped her mascara for a moment and gazed at Katya, sensing the change in her tone. Katya’s head was dipped, her hands fidgeting with the gems in her tights.
“Don’t do that, stupid. You’ll rip them off.”
Katya ceased immediately, though her gaze didn’t waver. She examined the cracks in the wooden floorboards with a heavy sigh.
“What’s wrong with you, Miss Thing?”
Katya hesitantly raised her eyes to greet Bianca’s, fearing that if the words parted her lips that she may not be able to stop the flow of them, and they may drown everyone in their wake. “I just —” her lower lip wobbled dangerously. “I’ll miss her. I worry about her. That’s all.” Katya awaited Bianca’s scathing comment, but to her utmost surprise, the comment never came.
She felt a strong hand squeeze her upper-arm, and she gasped softly. “You cute little fuck,” Bianca grinned, squeezing her again for good measure. “Courtney will be here with her, and you have, you know, FaceTime, or whatever. You can send each other videos of your pussy. Is that what you lesbians do in long distance relationships?”
Katya’s laugh eradicated the tears collecting in her eyes almost immediately. “You dumb fuck, how should I know?”
“Oh of course not,” Bianca mused, returning her attention to the make-up brush she had earlier abandoned. “Because you aren’t dating each other. Right? You kids and your fucking commitment issues, I swear.”
Katya’s amusement was clear in her tone. “Says you, whore.”
“I’m old, I'm allowed to be a whore.”
Katya felt hugely grateful for Bianca then - not that she didn’t often feel it, Bianca had done more for her than anyone else ever had - but she felt it in the core of her bones, in the steady thumping of her pained heart. She was truly blessed to be cared about so deeply by this crazy, wonderful, silly human being. “Love you, Bee.”
A pause.
“Love you too, idiot.”
*
Trixie stepped gingerly into the living room, her fidgeting hands currently fingering creases into her white skirt. Her pink plaid shirt was tucked expertly into it, secured with a golden belt buckle. Layers of fringe fell from her sleeves like white rainfall. She had spent a full two hours on perfecting her golden curls and painting a masterpiece upon her face. Her eyelids glistened pink in the soft light, and rose-gold flecks brightened her plush lips.
Courtney was probing a tiny gemstone into her pale pink nails from where she sat on the sofa, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth and her brows furrowed in utmost concentration. It took Courtney a few moments to feel the anxious burn of Trixie’s gaze, and she finally looked up. Her eyes widened in an instant. “Trixie! You look amazing!”
Trixie’s lip wobbled, the fear of performing clouding her mind from everything else. Courtney rose from the sofa, sensing her unease at once. She wrapped a gentle arm around Trixie’s middle and gave her a comforting squeeze. “You’re going to do great,” her voice was so soft and so sure that Trixie almost felt like she could believe her. She released a baited breath, the vices clamping her lungs coming undone for just a moment.
“Well, I can’t back out now,” Trixie grumbled in response, dipping to collect her baby pink guitar case from where it lay at her feet.
Trixie’s phone buzzed in her hand.
Katya
Face your fears, doll face. I’ll be there to catch you when you make the jump.
Dollface? Trixie’s lips broke into an amused grin. What a dork.
Trixie
We’re calling each other pet names now, are we? Okay, Grandma. *heart emoji*
Katya’s response was immediate.
Katya
I’m only 5 years older than you, cunt. *heart emoji*
Katya
And I like how you ignored my sincerity.
Trixie bit her lip for a moment.
Trixie
Sincerity is scary.
*
They were late.
The cab they had pre-ordered never showed, and Trixie had fast approached her melt-down mode as she hopped foot to heeled foot outside of her and Courtney’s apartment.
“Court,” she had garbled, gripping Courtney’s bare shoulders with a wild desperation. “What if we don’t get there, what if I miss my cue? Oh my god, Katya would be so disappointed. And Latrice! And —“
Trixie’s manic tirade was cut short by Courtney’s manicured hand slapping against Trixie’s cool cheek. It wasn’t very hard, but it was enough to cause Trixie’s mouth to gape open.
“Pull yourself together, Mattel,” Courtney snapped, grasping Trixie’s face with both hands. “We will get there. We will will this into existence. Do you understand me? We will be fine.” Courtney squeezed Trixie’s cheeks so that her lips pressed into a pout.
“You’ll ruin my make-up,” Trixie grumbled distortedly through pursed lips.
Courtney released her with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll fix you up before showtime.”
After a few more agonising minutes, Courtney finally huffed an irritated breath and pulled her phone from her purse. “Wait here, Trix.”
Trixie did as she was told, feeling like every passing moment was a lifetime, her panic touching at the sides of her mind and reminding her of every fear she had about this night. Performing, in front of hundreds. Being late. Letting everyone down. Freezing on stage. Forgetting her words. Losing Katya. Trixie lingered on the final thought with a pain in her heart. Losing Katya.
A sudden, sharp honking woke her from her daze, and her vision slowly adjusted to the dusk of the night around her. Trixie’s eyes widened with surprise.
Willam, her hair dyed a crazed electric blue, was grinning behind the wheel of her battered Corsa. “Come on, hoe, or are you staying out here all night?”
Courtney raced to Trixie’s side, grasping her dangling arm with a note of hurry and dragging her towards the car. Trixie’s jaw was still gaping.
“Willam,” Trixie breathed as Courtney bundled her into the back seat. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the waves of shocking blue sprouting from Willam’s scalp.
“Uh huh,” Willam responding, chewing on a piece of gum. “It’s true what they say - people make dramatic changes when they get dumped.”
Trixie winced against the quip, but Willam was still smiling. “Trix, it’s a joke. Jeez.”
“Thanks for saving our asses,” Courtney huffed, dropping into the seat beside Trixie.
“Oh my god,” Trixie gasped, the realisation finally dawning. “Yes. Thank you!”
“Don’t sweat,” Willam replied, pushing her car into drive and spinning the steering wheel. Trixie took a moment to ogle at the netted blue dress she was wearing, a perfect match to her wild tangle of hair. She looked truly stunning.
“Were you going somewhere?” Trixie enquired with a curious tilt of her head.
“A date,” Willam muttered, jolting the car a little too eagerly into the road. “But don’t worry - I’m glad I’m not missing this. I nearly dropped dead into my soup when Courtney told me you were performing.”
Trixie shrugged a shoulder somewhat self-consciously. The idea of Willam dating was a strange one indeed.
“Here we go girls - hang onto your panties.”
*
Trixie, flanked closely by Courtney and Willam, threaded hurriedly through the masses of bodies that were collected at the foot of the stage. Trixie hadn’t even taken a moment to see who was performing - she had her goal in sight, and she focused on that alone, for fear of losing her waning sanity.
Trixie’s flight was stalled by a tug on her arm, and she swung back to greet Courtney. “This is where we leave you,” Courtney breathed, her eyes sparkling beneath the flashing lights. Trixie felt a lump rise in her throat. She threw an arm around Courtney’s shoulders, crushing her into a hug that said more than words ever could. Courtney patted her in return, emotion causing her voice to crack as she murmured into Trixie’s ear.
“You got this, okay? I’m proud of you.”
Trixie released her friend, feeling a blooming of warmth throughout her chest. She dared a glance at Willam, who smiled somewhat awkwardly in return. She quickly curled her index finger to the tip of her thumb, in the universal sign of 'okay’. “Go get em, Trix.”
Trixie smiled wobbly, turning towards the stage door and gripping the handle of her guitar case with a new sense of bravery.
“She's here,” came Latrice’s booming voice the moment Trixie entered the room, her resolve solidifying which each passing moment.
“I’m so sorry Latrice, the damn cab —”
“I know, honey, don’t worry,” Latrice smiled kindly at her, looking magnificent in his ringmaster get-up. “You’re right on time.”
“Am I up?” Trixie whispered, her heart starting to pound against her chest.
Latrice’s smile widened, his eyes glistening with mirth. “You are.”
Trixie found herself side-stage some moments later, listening to the sounds of the crowd as they brayed and gabbled to each other. She was sorry she had missed the final show - from what Katya had told her, it was rumoured to be the best yet - but she swallowed down her disappointment with an anxious gulp. There’s nothing I can do about it now, she thought to herself, her hand grasping the neck of her guitar. I just need to do my part for them, now.
Alaska, dragged to the nines and looking incredible, had taken Trixie to one side before escorting her to the stage. “There’s some very important press here,” She had hissed, her breath laced with liquor. Trixie had scrunched her face up at the smell of it. “They are up on the balcony. I don’t want you to focus on them, though. Especially not if you’re nervous. I find it’s always best if you play to your audience. If you look directly at the bar, the lights are bright enough to make them all shadows.”
Trixie must’ve began to tremble against Alaska’s fingertips on her shoulder, because she then squeezed her the tiniest bit. “You upstaged the hell out of me the other week, Trixie Mattel. I have no doubt about your talents.”
Trixie was taken aback by the compliment, but she thanked Alaska none-the-less. Alaska’s catty little mouth had twitched into the smallest of smiles, before she patted her towards the draping curtain that was side-stage.
Trixie knew the moment was near.
Latrice strode onto the stage then, from the other side, his new red coat billowing behind him like a cape, rhinestones catching each light and glinting like a star on the clearest of nights. Trixie gasped at the sight - he looked truly magnificent.
“Ladies and gentleman,” he began, the lights dimming to a sombre blue around him. “I am so pleased to have had you with us tonight, for our final show.”
His words were greeted with heavy groaning from the masses, which Latrice signalled to hush. “I know, I know, but trust and believe me when I say - it is not over yet.” The crowd whooped and cheered, stamping their feet against the dusty ground with vigour and encouraging their ringmaster to bring the magic.
“Now, this is a first for the Cirque,” Latrice hummed against the microphone, stepping lightly around the stage as he spoke. “We have - yes - a never before seen spectacle! She’s our own dainty little country rose, as precious as they come, and she will weave a spell on you unlike any other!”
Trixie’s eyes clamped shut against the wave of cheering, waiting for the moment.
“She’s the Cirque’s personal Barbie girl…Trixie Mattel!”
Latrice pounded excitedly off-stage like a cat, and Trixie clung to a breath as she strode softly to the mic that was lying in wait for her.
She turned, gazing out at the expanse before her. Alaska had been right - the spotlights mostly drowned everyone in a sea of darkness, but even so, Trixie could see the place was packed to the brim with goodness knows how many people. She gulped, fearing her resolve would leave her, until she spotted a distorted, but familiar, face amongst the crowd.
Katya gazed at her with an obvious warmth and admiration, her smile breaking apart her lips. Trixie took a moment to implant that image into her memory, and steeled her resolve, drinking in the love Katya radiated.
Trixie smiled.
“Hey everyone,” she greeted the room, her words being met with thunderous applause. “I know you’ve been having your life handed to you for these last couple of hours; I’m here to close the night with something I hope will calm you and move you, all at once.”
Trixie surprised herself with how her voice didn’t shake - she hadn’t prepared her greeting, but the longer she spent standing on that stage and bathing in the light, she felt more at home that she could ever anticipate.
She slid her guitar strap over her shoulder, and closed her eyes.
The room fell into a haze as Trixie began to play - her notes were flawless, practised, perfect, magical. Her voice wove into the air and tangled itself amongst the melody.
“There’s no use crying for the milk you spill,” she sang, tapping her foot lightly.
“If you don’t slip and tumble, someone will.”
Trixie gazed out at the expanse of the crowd as her song continued. The room was silent beneath her voice, those watching her completely captivated. Trixie felt no fear anymore - this felt right, this felt wonderful. This was what she was meant to do.
“Beneath the neon moon I’m in the light…
Tell me do I ever cross your mind?”
She scoped out familiar faces in the crowd - Willam; tearful, Courtney; aghast, and Katya - proud.
“No I won’t come running at the ringing of the bell." Trixie cast a lazy, hooded eye across the expanse of darkened faces before her, greeting each one slowly as though she could see their eyes.
”No you don’t throw wishes to the well.“
Trixie strummed her guitar and tilted her chin for the final line, closing her eyes against the light. ”No, you don’t throw wishes to the well.“
The final note was met with silence, and for a heartbeat, Trixie feared that she hadn’t done as well as she had hoped. Quite suddenly, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Trixie gaped at the sound - it was deafening. She couldn’t help but giggle into the mic, her limbs tingling and her eyes collecting tears at their edges.
"Oh my god, you guys,” she choked. “Thank you so much.”
The crowd cheered harder, if that were possible. Trixie felt completely overwhelmed. Demanding chants for an encore began immediately, and Trixie, her veins filled with starlight, approached the mic once more.
“Alright, fuckers,” she said, her crowd laughing along with her. “You get to make a request - but please. Not Wonderwall.”
*
Trixie was elated.
She had been encored many times more, following her questionable but enjoyable rendition of the Spice Girls’ “Say You’ll Be There”. After the fourth song request, she had had to cut the crowds demands.
“Sorry guys, we have a curfew,” she had smirked, the audience groaning loudly in protest.
Now, she sat amongst the bar with the rest of the Cirque. She had basked in the admiration of both performer and audience member alike, but now she only wanted to be with one person.
Trixie wove through the bodies that had surrounded her and the others, seeking out Katya amongst them. She was unexpectedly halted in her tracks by an incredibly well-dressed woman, her round spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose and her lips painted a deep red. She was smiling.
“Trixie Mattel,” she said, beckoning for a handshake. Trixie obliged with a confused smile. “We were very impressed with your performance.”
Trixie, again, appreciated the praise, but she was painfully aware of the second hand ticking by; the hand that was bringing Katya’s departure ever closer. “Thank you, but I really must —”
Trixie felt a small rectangular card be pressed against the palm of her hand, which she instinctively clutched at. “I won’t keep you,” the woman purred with a knowing smile. “But please - give us a call.”
Trixie, mildly curious and heavily confused, was about to take a look at the card in her gripped fist, but at that moment, she spotted the bobbing of a blonde head coming towards her with impressive speed.
Katya flung her arms around Trixie’s shoulders, crushing her into a hug that tore the breath from both of them. “Fuck. I am so proud of you, Trixie.”
Trixie clamped her eyes shut. “Katya.”
The pair of them embraced for a long while, saying nothing. Trixie melted into the contact, taking a moment to register how Katya’s hands felt against her back and how her neck smelt with Trixie’s nose pressed against it. Trixie could feel the soft beat of Katya’s pulse against the space between her eyes, as though her heartbeat were giving her little kisses there.
Trixie’s pursed lips planted a kiss on Katya’s neck, and Trixie felt Katya tense beneath her. Katya pulled back, her eyes dreamy. Trixie stared into their blue depths, seeing nothing else around her but those eyes. Katya leaned forward and pressed her soft lips against Trixie’s own. Trixie wrapped her arms around Katya’s neck and pulled her closer, feeling like she couldn’t get close enough, even with their bodies pressed hard against each other.
Katya was soft, her hands reaching into Trixie’s hair and her tongue beginning to probe into Trixie’s welcoming mouth. Trixie couldn’t help but moan softly, feeling a desperation bloom within her. A desire, a want. A need.
Katya paused for a moment, her lips finding Trixie’s ear, and her fingers interlacing with Trixie’s. “Come with me.”
*
Trixie had never been to Katya’s apartment.
She could sense immediately from it’s minimalist decor and the quiet cleanliness that it was primarily Roy’s space. The moment that Katya lead her to her bedroom, though, it was as though she had entered another world.
It was - messy, for lack of a better word. Books were strewn across the floor, some flipped open at various pages, others piled atop each other. There were colourful drawings and pieces of writing hanging on every inch of wall and gemstones lay on every surface. It was very - Katya.
Trixie blinked against the candlelight that Katya had created, her lighter clicking away at the many candles that littered the room. Trixie sighed deeply, watching her graceful movements with a mixture of longing and heartache.
Katya turned to look at her once she was done, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. Trixie took in the curve of her crimson lips, the dark scattering of her eye-shadow. Her eyes ran the length of her jaw, skipping lightly over the peak of her collarbones poking through her shirt. Katya took a step towards her and Trixie’s eyes met hers, seeing there the same desire she felt inside her reflecting in her startling blue depths.
“Trix,” Katya breathed, dipping her lips to greet the nape of Trixie’s neck. Trixie sighed into the feeling, her entire body limp with the simplest of actions. Katya trailed soft kisses down the length of Trixie’s neck, pausing at the bottom to nip her lightly. Trixie groaned, feeling a familiar throbbing pulsate around her entire body as she bloomed like a flower. She has wanted this for so…fucking…long…
Katya’s gentle nipping was starting to drive her wild, and Trixie twisted her head to catch Katya’s lips with her own. Her kiss was hard, desperate. She projected her want and need into every stroke of her tongue against Katya’s, looping her arms around her neck and pulling her close.
The pair of them stumbled around the room, a tangle of wild limbs in a passionate dance. Katya fumbled clumsily at Trixie’s shirt, her hands grasping and groping but the kiss never breaking. Trixie tugged at it herself to help her, unable to stop a laugh from breaking their lips apart. Their eyes met and Katya grinned, pulling her shirt off now she was able to see. Trixie returned the favour, tugging Katya’s own shirt above her head and taking a moment to marvel at her chiselled body.
“Wow,” she gasped, already breathless from their clumsy fumbling, but now speechless as well as her eyes raked the dips and valleys of Katya’s body. She was wearing a lacy black bra that accented the perkiness of her breasts, and her abdomen was deliciously toned. Trixie longed to run her mouth over every inch of her.
“Wow yourself,” Katya breathed in return, her soft, warm hands running across Trixie’s full hips. Trixie closed her eyes, her teeth raking softly against her lip.
Katya ran her hands delicately through Trixie’s golden curls, fingering gently across her scalp and running soft kisses across her jawline.
“Katya, please,” She groaned lightly, Katya’s hands teasing her skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Katya looked at Trixie with a knowing smile. “Please — what?”
“Touch me.”
Trixie heard Katya’s soft gasp, and felt her knowing hands push her slowly towards the bed. Katya lowered her gently against the bed, as though she were made of porcelain - as though she could break at any given moment. Katya towered over Trixie on the bed, kissing every inch of skin on her face; between her eyes, down the length of her nose, the corner of her lips. Trixie began to giggle, feeling somewhat ticklish.
“Why are you laughing?” Katya whispered, her grin obvious against Trixie’s cheek.
“Because - I don’t know - this is — I’ve wanted this for so long,” Trixie stammered, still in the thralls of gentle laughter.
Katya’s smile broadened. “Me too.”
The pair began to kiss again - deeply, longingly. Katya’s feather-light touch skimmed Trixie’s skin like a pebble across a lake. Trixie’s breath came in shallow gasps as Katya unhooked the button of the skirt and finally slid it down her thick, trembling thighs.
Trixie’s grip on Katya tightened further, her breath quickening against Katya’s mouth. Katya’s finger skimmed over Trixie’s clit; and Trixie gasped softly.
“Wow,” Katya whispered, her blue gaze piercing in the soft candlelight. Trixie simply nodded, her words lost in sea of longing.
Katya pressed her finger against Trixie’s panties, running it slowly across her clit with a light touch. Trixies body pushed forward - eager to greet Katya in her teasing dance. Katya paused for a moment, gripping Trixie’s jaw with her hand, and stared into Trixie’s eyes.
“Trixie,” Katya breathed raggedly. Trixie stared back, her cheeks burning with desire.
“Yes?”
“I want to make love to you, Trixie Mattel.”
Trixie’s heart fluttered in her chest like a captive bird.
Katya’s lips were against hers again before Trixie had a moment to speak - her tongue probing softly. One hand began to tease Trixie again - her soft finger running the length of Trixie’s labia and up to her clit in slow circles over her underwear. Trixie’s body shook with each touch, and a tiny moan escaped her lips as she parted their kiss for a moment. She started at Katya.
“Please,” she whispered, her breath broken. “Please Katya. Please.”
Katya smiled in the darkness; her teeth brilliantly white in the blackness around them. She dipped herself slowly downwards, finally tugging off Trixie’s soft linen panties. Trixie’s body felt alive with longing, craving, and another feeling she couldn’t place - but it was elating, none-the-less. Her entire body pulsated for this, for only this, with Katya.
Katya bent to press her lips against Trixie’s thighs, running her tongue and teeth across the soft skin. Trixie lent back, feeling wetness spread between her legs, silently willing the teasing Katya to move her tongue just a little higher.
Katya’s tongue pressed against her then, running slowly against her labia and up to her clit with soft, wet strokes. Trixie’s head fell back, her breathes coming in laboured gasps as her body reacted to her creeping euphoria. She pressed her hips forward, greeting Katya’s tongue eagerly and pressing her hands against the back of Katya’s skull.
Katya flicked the tip of her tongue against Trixie’s clit, creeping her free hand up the side of Trixie’s leg. Trixie’s legs parted, willing her closer.
“You taste so good,” Katya murmured against her, the vibrations of her voice sending Trixie reeling in her addled brain.
“I want you closer,” Trixie managed to gasp, halting her mounting orgasm in its tracks. Trixie scrambled at Katya’s chiselled arms, pulling her up to greet her mouth on hers, tasting herself on Katya’s lips.
Katya’s body became parallel to Trixie’s, her skin pressing against Trixie’s own. Her fingers crept up the side of Trixie’s thigh tauntingly. She slid them between Trixie’s swollen lips, teasing her for another long moment, before pushing them slowly inside Trixie.
Trixie felt her body go rigid, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. Katya cupped Trixie’s jaw with her free hand, gazing into Trixie’s eyes. Each of Katya’s soft thrusts were met eagerly by Trixie’s bucking hips. They stared at each other, both gasping softly, moving in a rhythm and a melody that only they could hear. Trixie pulled Katya closer, wanting to feel her soft lips against her own. She wanted to melt into into Katya; wanted to pull her closer, closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. She wanted them to become one.
They were crushed together now, sweaty and breathless, lips seeking lips, skin against skin. Trixie felt her orgasm creeping inside of her like a crescendo, and her thighs gripped Katya’s hips like a vice as her moans grew and grew, spilling out of Katya’s mouth. Her eyes found Katya’s again. She gasped and gripped Katya’s arms tightly as her body began to quiver. Katya took her queue, and pushed her fingers upward.
Trixie gasped breathlessly, her body quaking, her fists balled against the bed-sheets. She squirmed against the explosion of feelings that erupted inside of her, noting the arc of her breaths and moans increasing with every passing moment. Trixie felt so close to Katya; every part of them was now intertwined together like creeping vines. Trixie’s lips found Katya’s ear, and she whispered; “I love you, I love you, I love you Katya, I love you”, as her body shook and convulsed, her head swimming, feeling herself contract against Katya’s fingers.
Katya stiffened above her, and Trixie feared for a moment for what she had just said. She could feel Katya shaking slightly against her skin. Katya then leaned forward towards Trixie, her nose pressed against hers, her eyes bearing into Trixie’s own.
“I love you too, Trixie Mattel.”
#trixya#trixie mattel#katya zamolodchikova#cal#cirque d'amour#bianca del rio#willam belli#courtney act#violet chachki#latrice royale#alaska thunderfuck#milk#kennedy davenport#circus au#lesbian au#slow burn#angst#pining#smut#rpdr fanfiction
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Simplicité - Chapter 7
The next few days went by smoothly, the salon was fully booked and Adore was still getting used to her new role as Bianca’s assistant, as well as balancing her new love life on top of that. Conversation with Bianca outside of work had become scarce, even more so than before. Most nights, Adore would find herself locked in her room talking to Farrah, or better yet locked in Farrah’s room.
It was cool having a roommate like Bianca. It had been Adore’s first time living with someone other than a family member and so far she was digging it. The freedom to come and go as she pleased was exhilarating, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world.
Life for her was good.
For Bianca on the other hand…
“Sorry pussyface, I can’t tonight. I got a date.” Courtney drawled over the phone, wiggling her eyebrows promiscuously into the iPhone camera. Bianca sighed to herself as she slumped back down on her bed, making sure to hold a fake smile for the Facetime camera.
“Another date? Isn’t that the fourth one this week?” Bianca asked, bitterness lacing her voice as she unhooked her bra with one hand.
“Yep! Being single rules!” Courtney exclaimed. “Hey I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow B.”
And with a click she was gone.
Here Bianca was, alone on a goddamn Friday night, in the middle of Chicago. Not one of her friends was unoccupied. Was there something wrong with her? When did she become the reject of the group?
She was a bit annoyed with Adore; ever since her and Farrah became exclusive her work performance had plateaued and her growth had come to a screeching halt. She desperately needed to get her shit together, at least enough for the Modern Salon interview next week.
It’s not that she was bad at her job, the girl just needed to watch her words. Bianca would cringe everytime Adore would screech “Oh party!” or say things like “Sweet man,” “Chillax bro,” and her personal favorite “We’re totes excited to see you! Byeeeee.”
Unfortunately for her, she had not been able to properly talk to her about it. Every chance she got, Adore would be rushing out the door with that loud, annoyingly whiney airheaded blonde on a smoke break.
Adore wasn’t the only one who had been neglecting her job lately. Courtney had been dragging herself into the salon with makeup from the day before. When she had tried to call her out on it, she said she was trying the new effortlessly chic look, which reportedly consisted of smudging her cat eyeliner in a way to make a “soft” smoky eye. Add the remnants of a nude liquid lipstick, a smudged brow, and glitter halfway down your cheeks and you have this Fall’s It Look according to Courtney.
Do these girls realize who she is? She has literally done everything they have, except for one, she freshened up her makeup before her shift if she was out all night, and two, knew how to do her damn job.
She shook her head and began to scroll through instagram, where she found two nearly identical pictures in her feed.
courtneyact: Oh my gosh! Ran into farrahrized and adoredelano at Roscoes. #girlsnightout
farrahrized: Date night with my baby adoredelano and my “twin” courtneyact
Adore was sandwiched in the middle of the two blondes, golden arms linked with hers as they all posed sexily for the camera. Farrah’s long platinum hair was straightened, she was dressed in metallic silver booty shorts with a rhinestone bra. Her abs shone gold from the flash (of course this bitch put highlighter there), while Courtney’s jaw was slack, blonde curls cascading around her face. She was in a short black dress, with dark red lips and a weirdly shaped headpiece. Adore was the most simple but most striking of them all, wearing a Nirvana t shirt and black ripped jeans.
Bianca clicked on Adore’s instagram and hit follow, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw the picture she posted.
adoredelano: Well I’m one lucky bitch courtneyact farrahrized
Her arms were around Courtney and Farrah’s waists, as their lips were pressed to her cheeks. Adore was smiling with her mouth wide open in the photo, almost as if she were caught mid laugh. Her head was tilted back and Farrah’s hand appeared to be touching her crotch, while Courtney’s hand rested on her right tit.
Bianca was jolted into a pure rage, her stomach feeling ill from the pure envy seeping through her veins as she fixated on the image. Without thinking, she typed out a quick comment and hit send on the photo.
thebiancadelrio: you call that lucky?
She didn’t even care if it was rude. Sure, maybe it was pure coincidence that they had all run into each other but maybe it wasn’t. They didn’t have to stay together at the bar.
The more she thought about them out having fun without her, the more angry she felt.
courtneyact: Sorry babe. Blondes have more fun. ;)
Bianca rolled her eyes. She didn’t need her false pity. It was too little too late for that anyway.
———————————
Adore softly unlocked the front door to her apartment, tip toeing in as she eyed the large clock on the wall. 1:30 AM. Ugh, she had work in 7 hours and was most definitely not looking forward to it.
As she softly padded into the house, she noticed that the lights were still on. As she turned her head towards the kitchen, she jumped back startled at Bianca’s brown eyes that were fixated on her.
“What the fuck?!” Adore exclaimed.
“I know, I look like that girl gremlin they poured water on without makeup on. Thanks for the confirmation.” Bianca retorted dryly.
“No man, It’s not that.” Adore started. “I just didn’t expect you to be up.”
“Someone has to make sure that you’re okay to actually come into work tomorrow.” Bianca smirked, raising a brow before gesturing to her tea pot. “Tea?”
“Sure.”
Bianca grabbed another mug, pouring the contents into it before sliding it over to Adore. Adore smiled, letting the sweetness slip down her throat as she studied Bianca’s features. This was the first time she had seen her with no makeup on, and she was gorgeous without it. Her natural eyebrows were more of a golden neutral brown color, instead of the dramatically drawn on dark brown ones she was used to. Her skin was smooth and reminded her of deep caramel, dewy as if she had just moisturized her face with 6 different creams. She could appreciate her dimples a lot more without the layers and layers of creams and powders, and idly wondered why she opted for so much makeup on a daily basis.
“You know, you’re like super pretty without makeup.” Adore murmured.
Bianca raised an eyebrow tiredly, for once not really wanting to challenge the girl.
“Thanks.” Bianca whispered softly.
“I’m serious. You’re a natural beauty.” Adore said, locking eyes with her. She drained the rest of her tea, setting the mug down on the counter. “Thanks for the tea. I’m gonna go get some sleep.”
As Bianca watched her go to her room, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the alcohol talking or if Adore really thought she was pretty without makeup.
———————————
The next morning, Courtney stumbled into the salon with a false eyelash falling off of her eyelid, flyaways dancing around her roots, and dressed in one of her famous backup outfits.
Enough is enough, Bianca thought, annoyed, as she watched Courtney set her purse down at her station. She sat in her salon chair and put her face in her hands, clearly tired and not at all ready for the day ahead.
“Hi!” Bianca exclaimed, raising her voice so loud that it echoed throughout the lobby. “How’s my precious Court doing? Are you all set for work today? You’re fully booked!”
“Jesus, can you take it down a notch?” Courtney moaned, rubbing her temples.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Bianca asked, tilting her head. “Is something the matter?”
“Hey Courm! How are you feeling? Damn dude you sure pounded those jello shots back last night-“ Adore stopped as she realized Bianca was standing right there. “Oh hey B. Sorry, Starbucks was out of Everything Bagels so I went to like 5 different ones to get you yours. I didn’t mean to be late to my shift, but I didn’t think you’d mind since I rode with you here anyway.”
“Oh it’s quite alright, just come into work whenever you’d like! Who cares if you have to drive to 5 different Starbucks and waste our time. Adore, you could have just gotten me a yogurt parfait.” Bianca seethed before turning to Courtney. “ But it’s okay! Wear your backup outfits, pass off last night’s makeup as a smoky eye look, I don’t care. But honey, at least glue your fucking false eyelash back on.” Bianca handed a stunned Courtney her eyelash glue before spinning on her heel towards the office.
“Fuck.” Courtney mumbled.
“What crawled up her ass this morning?” Adore muttered.
“A late assistant and a half drunk hair stylist.” Bianca barked from the stairwell.
——————
“Courtney!” Farrah drawled, giving her an air kiss before sitting down next to her in the stylist room. “What happened to you last night? Who was that girl you were with?” Courtney had just finished up her third haircut of the day and was currently on a 30 min break.
“Oh my god, so I took this girl home last night, and-“
“Wait wait, I wanna hear!” Adore said as she ran up the stairs from the basement. “That red headed girl you were with looked hot! Did you fuck her?”
As Adore pounded up the stairs obnoxiously, Bianca rolled her eyes as she typed an email to a client. Since when have Adore and Courtney been BFF’s? She didn’t hire an assistant to be sitting in her office by herself. She hit send on the email, before grabbing her phone and sending a text to Bob.
Bianca: Wanna get drinks tonight?
“So, I ended up taking her home and you won’t believe what happened. She fell ASLEEP!” Courtney groaned.
“No!!!” Farrah gasped, fake crying as she shook her head.
“It gets worse guys.” Courtney whined, looking between the two girls.
“Oh god.” Bianca muttered as she listened in from the office.
“She fell asleep - in the middle of sex!” Courtney screamed. “But that was okay, her cute friend Ivy explained to me that that usually happens when she gets excited.”
“Wait bitch, you took more than one girl home?” Adore asked. “That’s a baller move.”
“Why of course! And thank god I did, because Ivy was kind enough to sleep with me while her friend was passed out.” Courtney said batting her eyelashes.
“OH MY GOD!” Farrah shrieked as Adore’s laugh rang throughout the salon.
“What? I’m a classy lady, so I insisted that we let her join in once she woke up. I feel bad, I had Ivy screaming so loud I think she ended up waking the poor girl up…Anyway, at least it all worked out in my favor in the end.” Courtney shrugged.
“That’s fucking badass!” Adore cackled.
As the girls laughed together on the second floor, Bianca’s phone rang with a text.
Bob: Sorry bitch, got plans already. Soon!
Bianca frowned, sitting back in her chair as she began to feel a sinking feeling hit her stomach. Adore was fitting in great with the other girls (and Bob), which was great - fantastic even. But she couldn’t help but feel lonely as she heard them laugh and gossip upstairs, not even paying her any mind.
She watched the clock tick down, slowly watching as their lunches all trickled away before she barked Adore’s name to beckon her back downstairs.
“Yeah, B?” Adore called as she skipped down the steps.
“Can you get me lunch from EP?” Bianca asked, not making eye contact. “Cuban sandwich and if they don’t have it just get me the Chicken and Wild Rice soup.”
“Sure! Anything else?”
“Nope that’s all.” Bianca said, realizing at the last second that she was sending her into Farrah’s ex flings restaurant. Whoops.
“Okay, be back soon.” Adore said, quite cheerfully to Bianca’s surprise.
That could only mean one thing.
———————
“You didn’t tell her?” Bianca glared at Farrah as she mixed toner into a small color bowl.
“I-I didn’t know how to tell her!” Farrah protested. “It’s not like we were official. She won’t come out of the damn closet.”
“So let me get this straight, Eureka wouldn’t come out of the closet so you didn’t consider you guys to be an item?”
“It was a mutual understanding.” Farrah clipped.
Bianca was utterly disgusted. First of all, you don’t keep past relations from someone you’re dating. Especially if they work just down the street and have multiple opportunities a day to get in touch with them! The only reason people hid exes from their current partners was to still have them as an option in case things don’t work out.
“Mutual or not, Adore has the right to know especially since we work almost right fucking next to her!” Bianca snapped. “If you really respected Adore you would tell her.”
The tension was growing thick between the two of them. Maybe part of it was jealousy, but the other part of it was that Bianca cared about Adore and didn’t want to see her get hurt.
“Bianca enough.” Courtney hissed. “This is Farrah’s relationship, not yours. Stop trying to get into her business.”
Bianca shot daggers at Courtney with her eyes before she turned her attention back to Farrah, making sure to keep intense eye contact with her. She learned a long time ago that her eyes were her deadliest weapon.
“She deserves to know, Farrah.” Bianca spat, before going back downstairs to her office. Leaving a confused Farrah alone in the shampoo area, with a bowl of color and a bigger mess than she anticipated.
——————
“Hi, can I get the cuban, a blueberry/lemon scone, a raspberry salad and a grilled cheese to go?” Adore asked as she approached the cash register.
“That sounds like Bianca’s order-“ Eureka stopped in her tracks as she turned around and faced the raven haired beauty. Her heart sank as she noticed she was even more beautiful up close. Her lips were plump and full, a cherry red color from the lip balm she had put on. Heavily lined blue eyes were a striking contrast against the long black hair framing her face. The mystery girl’s skin was smooth and to top it all off she had impeccable bone structure. She stared up at her slightly in awe, so mesmerized by how pretty she was.
But then she remembered she was supposed to hate her. She entered in the order on the cash register seriously, trying not to make anymore eye contact.
“It is! I guess you know her order pretty well by now huh?” Adore laughed.
“Yeah. Anything else?” Eureka asked coldly, grabbing a paper bag quickly.
Adore’s smile faded as she shifted uncomfortably. Did she say something wrong?
“No that’s it.” Adore mumbled.
“$30.65.”
Adore raised an eyebrow before handing over the company credit card. Eureka slid it, handing her the receipt before going back to the kitchen to get her food.
“Hey what’s your name again?” Adore asked when she came back.
“Eureka.”
Adore felt her blood go cold as she realized that this was the girl that Farrah used to flirt with to get free food. She wondered if that was all that they did. By the glare on her round face, she was assuming that there was something that she didn’t know.
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Simplicité - Chapter 6
Simplicité Saturday ahhh! I can’t believe it’s already been another week. Is it just me or is this year coming to an end really fast? Anyway, this chapter is surprisingly fluffy, other then a few minor details! Thanks to @veronicasanders for always being a quick efficient beta! This story would probably be going nowhere without her ✨TW: Smoking, drinking. Teensy bit of angst. PS: The Biadore is coming 😉
“So you’re probably wondering why I’ve called you in here.” Bianca started, watching Courtney seated across from her. She was nervous, mostly because she felt like a terrible person and Courtney probably wasn’t going to forgive her for what happened between them. Bianca felt so bad that she had toyed with Courtney’s emotions that way, it felt like she was being crushed by it.
“I am.” Courtney nodded stiffly. “Am I here to be reprimanded by my boss?” She didn’t know what was about to happen, but whatever Bianca decided she felt would be for the best.
“I want to apologize to you, Courtney.” Bianca began, voice barely above a whisper. “I-I’ve been thinking all morning about what you and Bob said to me and it’s really sunk in.”
Out of all of the things Courtney was thinking would happen, this was not one of them. She sat up straighter, feigning alertness and trying to hide the fact that she was severely hungover and wearing the backup outfit out of the trunk of her car.
“I’m just really sorry I put you through that Court.” Bianca sniffed uncharacteristically. Courtney raised an eyebrow, slightly unsure of how to react to her best friend crumbling right in front of her. Bianca was usually rock solid emotionally, other than these last few months of her grieving.
“Bianca-”
“If you don’t want to work for me anymore then I understand.” Bianca sighed, shoving a stack of paperwork towards Courtney. “No pressure.”
“Bianca, can you just relax? I’m over it,” Courtney said nonchalantly, pushing the paperwork to the side.
“W-what?” Bianca stammered, thrown off by her cool response. She was over it? “Just last night you were going on about it-”
“Honestly Bianca, I’ve done some thinking too and yes it happened and it sucked, but I just want to move on. You’re my best friend, and it seems like you’ve had some sort of epiphany or something. That’s all the closure I wanted really,” Courtney blurted out. “I just wanted an apology.”
Bianca leaned back in her chair and studied Courtney. She seemed to be 100% serious about being over what happened, and she knew better than anyone when she was being honest. Her heart felt lighter now that they seemed to be on the same page, and for the first time in months Bianca almost felt normal again.
“That’s it? It’s never that easy,” Bianca muttered in disbelief, still not sure.
“Seriously Bianca. I don’t care.” Courtney shrugged. She coughed into her shoulder, holding back the urge to gag. She hadn’t been able to keep anything down today, which had made work very difficult. She gulped, clearing her throat trying to push whatever was about to come up back down.
Bianca raised an eyebrow at Courtney, narrowing her eyes in disbelief when she noticed that she didn’t look 100%. Her hair was different and she swore she had seen that outfit somewhere….
“You’re hungover.” Bianca realized incredulously. “You’re wearing your backup outfit and you brushed out your curls from last night!”
“I am not!” Courtney shrieked, trying to keep the smile from creeping onto her face.
“Oh my god did you get laid?” Bianca teased, letting a long cackle ring out.
“I don’t need to discuss my sexual encounters with the likes of you!” Courtney laughed as her cheeks burned red. “Since you aren’t firing me, I’m leaving!”
“No, no, no! I’m curious, who had the honor?” Bianca smirked, amused.
“It doesn’t matter, she lives in Indianapolis and it was just a one night stand-”
“You went to fucking Indie last night?” Bianca roared. “God, no wonder you’re so tired looking. You must’ve driven all night.”
“I did,” Courtney admitted. “Her name was odd, I can’t remember it exactly but she went by Will for short. She was pretty hot.”
“Oh god.” Bianca chuckled, shaking her head. “Tell you what, go home. You don’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day, right?”
“No, I don’t. Are you sure you want to send me home though? You don’t want help with Adore?” Courtney questioned, standing up from her chair.
“Adore is a grown woman, Courtney. I think I can handle it from here. Go home and get some sleep.” Bianca ordered.
Courtney nodded as she walked around the desk, tackling Bianca in a tight embrace. Bianca laughed and squeezed her tight, thankful that Courtney forgave her. She was lucky to still have her in her life after everything that they went through.
As Courtney squeezed Bianca, she didn’t feel like the usual tortured soul pining that she usually did when she hugged her. Things were different now, she was glad that they could stay friends and not be weird.
“Courtney?”
“Yes, pussyface?”
“I’m glad to see that you’re back out there trying to date.”
“Awe, I’m so glad you approve,” Courtney smirked. “Now I can continue my day in peace, knowing that I’ve finally gotten the approval I’ve been waiting for!”
“I can’t stand you,” Bianca laughed.
———
Courtney and Bianca chatted for what seemed like forever before they came back upstairs from their meeting. Bianca clapped her hands loudly together as she entered the salon room, startling everyone out of looking down at their phones. Adore looked up at the both of them with wide eyes, wondering what exactly was about to happen to Courtney.
“So before you guys start talking shit, I’d like to say that Courtney isn’t being fired. I am however letting her go home early, so Courtney, go home.” Bianca announced, waving her hands towards the front door.
“Bye guys.” Courtney waved, scurrying out of the salon like a bat out of hell. Her face seemed calm, which was odd to Adore but hell, maybe things ended up working out between the two of them. She turned her attention back to Bianca, who also seemed at peace after what had happened.
“As for the rest of you, shouldn’t you be working? Go practice on the mannequins or something. Or better yet, Valentina go stand out front and hand out brochures.” Bianca ordered.
“Yes cousin.” Valentina mumbled, grabbing a pile of brochures before walking out.
“Who’s going to answer the phone then?” Farrah asked confused.
“Adore needs the phone because she’s about to make some phone calls for me.” Bianca smiled wickedly, brown eyes burning into hers.
“I-I am?” Adore stuttered, suddenly feeling nerves infiltrate her stomach.
“Yes, so come sit down and I’ll tell you who you need to call.”
Adore walked meekly behind the desk, planting her ass on the chic looking chair as Bianca leaned over her.
“Okay, so Modern Salon called and wants to set up an interview with me. The only days that work for me are Thursday morning and Friday evening, so see if that works.” Bianca ordered, giving Adore the phone number. Adore stared down at the piece of paper and nodded.
“Why aren’t you writing anything down?” Bianca barked. Adore jumped, grabbing a nearby piece of paper and writing down the times swiftly. Bianca rolled her eyes annoyed.
“Where the fuck is your notepad?” Bianca asked.
“I forgot it! Sorry!” Adore exclaimed flinching slightly. “What else?”
“I need you to book the Chicago Spring Fashion Week slot. We’re going to be doing hair and makeup there in about 4 weeks. I need you to book 6 slots: one for you, Courtney, Me, Bob, and Farrah. Oh, I guess that makes 5-”
“Bianca, I can’t do makeup.” Adore reminded her.
“You’ll be ready by then. Tomorrow you’re spending the day painting everyone’s face. Including mine. Hope you’ve been paying attention to your reading.” Bianca patted her on the back, smiling before turning to Farrah. “Can you go order food from Eureka? I’d like a cuban sandwich and a blood orange scone, Also, a skinny latte from Starbucks would be fabulous.”
“Bianca I have no money-”
“Take my card.” Bianca reached into her pocket handing her the business card. “Adore, do you want anything?”
“Can Eureka make me a grilled cheese?” Adore asked. Bianca rolled her eyes, and Farrah nodded smiling.
“Really queen, a fucking grilled cheese?” Bianca asked, shaking her head. “Add on a scone for her too.”
“I’ll be back.” Farrah winked before walking out behind Valentina.
“You better get going on those calls.” Bianca called as she walked downstairs.
Great. ———-
“Farrah! What am I getting for you today?” Eureka exclaimed, face lighting up as she walked through the door.
“Hey,” Farrah said stiffly. “The usual for Bianca and I, and add on a Grilled Cheese and a scone.”
Eureka’s smile faltered at the girl’s unusual mood, and she nodded inputting the total into the cash register.
“14.50 please.”
Farrah handed over the card, pacing awkwardly in the front of the cash register. It was a cute place, modeled partly after the café’s in France, and partly after the tea rooms in England. It was a weird mix but somehow, it worked. There were a dozen small round white tables, a couple spilled out in front of the quaint shop. It was decorated minimally, doilies littered the table tops and various pastries were on display in the front.
“Do you have time today?” Eureka murmured, eyes shifting from side to side making sure no one was around.
Eureka was too good to her, which was going to make this even more awkward. She visibly trembled as she realized the dreaded moment was here.
“Eureka, there’s something I need to tell you.” Farrah started, voice cracking. Eureka looked up, eyes wide before she continued, “I uh, I don’t know how to say this but I met someone else. And I think we could have something. I know you aren’t ready to come out of the closet yet, and I totally respect that. I just want to kind of play the field a bit-”
“It’s fine Farrah.” Eureka said, abruptly cutting her off as her eyes became glassy. “I get it. Let me go fix your food.” She quickly left the cashier area, pressing her lips together tightly to prevent herself from letting out a wail in front of the girl.
“Eureka-” Farrah started but it was too late. Eureka was already in the kitchen.
Eureka couldn’t really blame her, if she were in Farrah’s position she would probably do the same thing. She just couldn’t come out of the closet, due to her very religious parisian mother. She would probably disown her, and Eureka couldn’t bear to lose her mom. She was in Paris most of the time but her dad was here with her in Chicago, he helped her in the kitchen a couple of days a week.
As she got the breads ready for the sandwiches, she sniffled, letting the tears fall onto the smooth quartz countertop.
Today the food wouldn’t be made with love, today the food would be made with sorrow.
——–
“Okay great, Bianca and I will be there Thursday morning!” Adore exclaimed. “It was nice talking to you too, buh bye.”
“You and me?” Bianca asked confused, making Adore jump.
“Don’t do that!” Adore laughed, jabbing Bianca playfully in the arm. “Yeah dude, the Modern Salon chick liked my energy so she wants to meet me too.”
Bianca was pleased, she didn’t expect Adore to charm the editors just like that but she was learning everyday not to underestimate her.
“And the fashion week booking?” Bianca asked.
“4 weeks out, all 5 of us are set. We’ll be set up in between MAC and Redken.” Adore beamed.
“What?” Bianca asked surprised. “How in the hell did you get us a slot in between those two huge names?!”
“Oh, I just really stressed that we needed as many outlets as possible and that you wouldn’t do the show if we weren’t near at least Redken.” Adore shrugged.
“On one hand, I’m pissed that you would risk our slot like that.” Bianca started. “But on the other hand, I’m extremely impressed. Nice work.”
Adore felt her heart soar at the positive feedback from Bianca. Finally, it was starting to feel like she was getting the hang of things around here.
“So I wanted to talk to you about my salary…” Adore trailed off. Bianca nodded in agreement.
“Let’s go downstairs and talk about it.”
———–
“Here’s your food.” Eureka handed the food to Farrah quickly before going back into the kitchen. “See you around, Farrah.”
“Eureka, wait!” Farrah called, panic tainting her voice. She stood there for a few minutes, waiting for her to come back, hoping that a customer would come in so that she would have to come back out.
But of course a customer never came, and soon after a defeated Farrah left.
——-
“$17 an hour?” Adore asked, shocked, as she stared down at the piece of paper stating her salary. In LA that wasn’t much but here, that stretched a lot further than before.
“Your job is very demanding. You haven’t really gotten into the full part of it yet, but once you do you’ll see why you deserve the salary.” Bianca nodded. “I’m open to negotiations if necessary-”
“There’s nothing to negotiate.” Adore cut her off. At 40 hours a week, possibly with overtime pay, she’d be bringing anywhere from $2700 to well over $3000 a month. She’d have enough to buy whatever fancy clothes Bianca wanted her to wear.
“Okay, sign here then.” Bianca pointed to the line underneath her own signature which was regal and elegant looking. Adore signed her name messily before handing the piece of paper back.
“Okay, well I’ll let you study for the rest of the day and then after that we’ll go home and-”
“Actually, I’m hanging out with Farrah after work. I’ll probably be back late. Is that cool?” Adore interrupted, tilting her head.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bianca said through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why their friendship was bugging her so much but alas, she sucked it up. “We’ll talk when you get home.”
“Great! Thanks Bianca.” Adore exclaimed happily, walking around the desk to engulf her in a big hug.
———
The rest of the day went pretty quickly, albeit Farrah acting a bit weird after coming back from Eureka’s. Adore waved goodbye to Bianca, who was flat ironing a clients hair as she clung onto Farrah’s arm. Bianca smiled faintly, watching the two girls run out of the salon and onto the street where Farrah’s mini cooper was parked. Bob stared at Bianca, shaking his head at her as he watched her pine for Adore.
“Fucking lesbians.” Bob muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he refocused on mixing his color.
From a few doors down, Eureka stared at the same scene grimly. The girl Farrah was with was beautiful, with long sleek black hair and on point makeup skills. Of course she would want to drop everything to be with her, she was literally everything that she wasn’t. Tall, skinny, and dark hair. She sighed, running a hand through her long bright blonde hair, hoping that somehow some way, Farrah would make her way back to her one day. Even more importantly, she was hoping one day she would muster up the courage to come out of the closet.
Maybe that day would be soon, she thought as she watched Farrah throw her head back in laughter at whatever the raven haired girl had just said.
—–
Farrah had brought her to a vacant spot in Millennium park, where they were cloaked on a bench under a few trees. Rabbits hopped nearby, and Farrah handed Adore a joint before lighting her own. It took a few tries before it lit, due to all of the crazy wind.
“It’s probably not as good as what you’re used to, but hopefully it satisfies.” Farrah winked.
Adore took a hit and nodded, tasting the foreign weed for the first time.
“I guess what they say is true. California really does have the best weed.” Adore laughed lightheartedly, tasting the sourness on her tongue.
“Awe no! It’s not that bad is it?” Farrah whined.
Well it wasn’t terrible, Adore thought. It did the job well enough - she thought, as she took another hit.
“It’s not bad. Thanks for smoking me out.” Adore smiled, nuzzling her face into her shoulder. Farrah froze, feeling the urge to shrug her off but fighting it.
What was wrong with her? Farrah and Eureka were just fuck buddies for a few months and nothing more. Why did she feel so guilty about the way she left things? Furthermore, why couldn’t she enjoy the time she had with Adore, who was fucking smoking hot?
Eventually, Farrah relaxed, slumping into the bench, and let herself enjoy the moment as much as she possibly could. They sat there for awhile like that, Adore’s head on Farrah’s shoulder as they smoked their joints together quietly. Adore’s tolerance had already gone down a little, but she knew she still needed something to kick it up a notch. The silence felt awkward, she thought. Farrah also seemed a little bit off, she noticed as she had stiffened originally when she rested her head on her shoulder. The mixed signals. Lifting her head up, she sat up and dug through her purse, finding her bedazzled flask.
“Oh my god where did you get that?” Farrah squealed, grabbing the flask. It was encrusted with a ton of swarovski crystals, shimmering in the low light.
“Amazon girl. Have some!” Adore gestured. Farrah unscrewed the flask gratefully and tilted her head back, letting a generous amount of vodka swirl down her throat. She chased it with a splash of water, handing it back to Adore.
Adore made a mental note that Farrah had basically chugged the better part of the liquid in the flask. She decided that maybe it was just the nerves, and thought nothing of it.
They sat in the park, passing the flask back and forth and before they knew it they were off stumbling drunk and around the bean.
“Adore,” Farrah slurred. “Look how fucking cute we are.” She grabbed her hand and pointed at their reflections in the giant mirrored bean. Adore smiled, stumbling into Farrah as she watched their reflections. Adore towered over Farrah, but the combination of dark hair and platinum blonde complemented each other.
“Let’s take a picture!” Adore exclaimed, pulling out her phone. She pointed the camera at the bean, getting their reflection in it before snapping the photo. She then turned towards Farrah, who was already looking up at her expectantly, pink lips slightly parted.
Adore closed the distance between the two of them, cupping Farrah’s chin up into her hand as she kissed her gently. She tasted of cheap vodka and weed, but smelled like a vanilla cupcake. It was confusing to her senses, but it just worked with her. Farrah stood on her tip toes, throwing both arms around Adore’s neck as the kiss deepened. Soon it was becoming violent, and Farrah ended up pushing Adore against the metal bean. Adore groaned, grabbing a fist of Farrah’s hair in her hands. She pulled away gently, before smiling and pushing her away.
“That’s gonna be a hot picture.” Farrah finally said.
Adore roared with laughter and grabbed Farrah’s hand, moving on as they spent the rest of the day exploring downtown Chicago together.
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Just Tonight #2 (Shalaska) - BABE
AN: I’ve been sitting on this chapter idea since I finished the first one yesterday so I thought I’d quickly finish it because I’m so proud of this chapter. It’s a little bit shorter than the last (around 2k) and contains a little patch of Biadore in the beginning. Anyways, enjoy! I would just like to mention that the version of Creep that Sharon’s band is playing is the one that Jinkx sings on her album, I’m kinda lowkey obsessed with it. Okay, on with the show.
“Wait,“ Adore started to ask as she and Alaska sat in their shared art history class. Both girls were not paying attention, their minds on the events of the party two days ago. Alaska was still confused and Adore bringing it up every two seconds only aided this line of thoughts. “So the hot lead of the amazingly dope band bought you a drink, practically dedicated her set to you, fucked you in the bathroom and then left? That’s fucked up!” The brunette’s loud exclaim drew a large amount of attention in the quiet room, including Professor Del Rio’s.
“Miss Delano, I’d suggest for you to pay attention if you ever wanted to make it to graduation in a couple years’ time,” Professor Del Rio barked, looking over her glasses at the brunette.
“The only thing I’m paying attention to is your ass in that skirt!” Adore exclaimed in reply, making an hourglass figure with her hand. Half of the class laughed and Del Rio herself turned bright red for a moment, obviously flustered by the younger girl’s attention. When she finally came to her senses, her eyes were full of fury. “I know I’m not allowed to give detention but you’re staying back after class.” Adore sank back into her seat, a frown on her face.
“I’m so fucking confused,” Alaska sighed as she returned to their prior conversation. “What am I meant to do, ‘Dore? I really want to see her again.” The blonde sank down into her seat like her friend, trying not to look sad. “You’ll find her, ‘Lask. Have you tried googling her band?” Adore asked with hope with her voice. The blonde shook her head. “Well start with that.” She paused, her eyes bright with an amazing idea. “I know! I’ll ask Pearl! That bitch will know where to find her. This is so fucking dope!” Adore’s loud voice once again caught the attention of Del Rio.
“Miss Delano!” she cried out as the clock tower chimed outside. It was noon, the class had finished. Everyone got up to leave, Adore and Alaska lazily packing up their things. “I’ll talk to my girl and I’ll see you later.” Alaska nodded and left the classroom, grinning at her friend. She scurried past the professor as Adore swung her backpack over one shoulder.
“Miss Delano, you’ve got the worst attendance record, you’re rude, unfocused, lazy and your grades are barely passing,” the professor stated seriously as Adore walked to the front of my ears. “Then why haven’t you kicked me out yet?” she smirked, her mouth getting close to the teacher’s ear. “It’s because you like the way I make you feel.”
Bianca Del Rio, a woman who had been teaching for years, knew her place. She couldn’t give into a student, no matter how they made her feel, and Adore’s comments affected her greatly. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” Bianca stuttered. A look of amusement appeared on Adore’s face as she closed the gap between them.
“Yes you do.”
Bianca didn’t have the strength to pull away.
———–
Alaska, however, had spent the past two hours in the library, trying to pay attention to a literature paper but sneakily searching up Sharon’s band as procrastination. She had trouble finding anything useful, only pictures of the four girls, the blonde singer always in the middle. Her eyes focused on the girl, not being able to take her eyes off of her. The ice blue eyes that held so much lust kept a cheeky look, while the lips that attacked her body were pursed and neatly painted black. Sharon’s blonde hair was teased out, but not as knotty as it was when Alaska’s fingers tangled and pulled at and the fingers that made her come so quickly were showing devil signs. Alaska had never been so enamoured with a one night stand before and it scared her. Love at first sight wasn’t reasonable to her, not at all.
“What up, stalker,” a voice that Alaska recognised as Pearl’s greeted, her eyes glassy and grin dopey. Shutting the laptop quickly, Alaska suddenly felt embarrassed. “It’s not like that.”
“I don’t care, Alaska,” Pearl replied, completely blasé. “I heard that Sharon hooked up with someone, guessing it was you.” Alaska nodded. “Well, if you’re looking for her then she’s usually around the music block. However, I do know she’s performing at the Elephant tonight, nine o'clock.” Alaska’s eyes lit up, knowing that she would have to ignore her paper for a date with destiny. Looking at her phone, the blonde noticed that the time read 5:14. “Thanks for that, Pearl,” she said gratefully, scooping her things up while the other girl lazily raised her hand to wave goodbye.
“Good luck!”
————–
Alaska had never looked so sexy before, in her opinion. She really wanted to catch Sharon’s eye without looking too desperate, and the short black skirt was perfect for the look. Adore had loaned her a pair of fishnet thigh highs and a Rolling Stones tee that someone (definitely not Adore) had cut and altered into a crop top. The black boots finished the look, but the lacy black bra and panties she wore were her secret saviour. Katya had loaned the blonde her lucky red lipstick for the occasion and Courtney stole her roommate’s full flask to put in Alaska’s bra. The biggest change was Alaska’s lack of favourite accessory - no nails. If she was gonna teach Sharon a lesson, it had to be without nails.
Sipping the vodka from the flask nervously, Alaska stared at the clock. The drive to the bar took ten minutes (technically five, since Adore was driving her) but she didn’t want to be late and seem uninterested or be early and seem eager. At 8:56, Adore put her foot down.
“We’re going, chica. I’ve got weed to smoke.”
———-
Ten minutes later, Alaska was tucked away in a corner of the dark bar, annoyed by the tedium of waiting for the band to begin. The blonde’s eye was fixed on the bar, a redhead in her eye. Suddenly, Alaska saw Sharon move towards the redhead, putting on the same moves that she remembered all too well. Alaska’s cheeks burned with jealousy as Sharon kissed the girl’s cheek, knowing the only way that things could work is if the blonde could make her jealous in return.
“I’ve never seen you around here before,” a voice said to her. Alaska turned to face the figure. He looked to be around college age from what she could make out, and his dark hair and eyes were difficult to see in the darkened room. The blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. “I’ve never been here before,” she replied, placing a hand on his arm.
They talked like this until the music started, subtle flirting mixed with whatever conversation Alaska could muster. She was thinking about how desperate she was for Sharon’s touch, memories from their last tryst in the bathroom fresh in her mind. The music starting was a blessing and Alaska grabbed the man’s hand, yanking them through the crowd so that Sharon could see them.
This was going to be a fun night.
——————–
Sharon loved nothing more than being up on that stage. It was where she came alive; her passion for music unleashed itself at every concert she did. That, in her opinion, was something special.
She would be lying if she said she didn’t live a rocker lifestyle. Drugs, alcohol, and a new girl every night – these were solid fixtures in her life. However, she still couldn’t get the blonde from a few nights back out of her head. Remembering Alaska, squirming with pleasure underneath her as she dominated her body provided amazing inflation to her ego, and she really hoped that she could see her again.
However, as she climbed onto that stage, she didn’t realise that it would be sooner than she thought.
“Wow, what a fucking turn out we’ve got tonight!” the blonde exclaimed, the crowd cheering as she said that. “We’re Anarchy Rose and we’re here to blow your fucking minds!”
The audience cheered as Sharon’s bandmate, Jinkx, played the opening chords to “Creep” by Radiohead. Her eyes buzzed around the audience as her eyes fixated on somebody familiar – Alaska. The blonde was looking right at Sharon with a smirk, her lips connecting with the guy standing next to her. Sharon couldn’t help but feel anger rush through her (or, was it jealousy?), but as the song got heavier, she strummed furiously on her guitar and belted out the lyrics.
For the rest of the concert, every time Sharon looked Alaska’s way, the blonde would be making out with the guy, and every time, Sharon would see red with anger. Maybe it was how smoking she looked tonight that had an effect on her, but her mind started to come up with different ways to go about punishing this girl. A girl she’d been obsessing over, one that wasn’t even hers. Sharon sighed internally, and, for the first time ever, was thankful that this was the last song.
She had to go out with a bang.
Giving her bandmates the look, Sharon started playing the opening chords of a familiar song – the one that started it all. Alaska stopped kissing the man to listen, her eyes trying not to connect with Sharon’s.
“Just tonight I will stay, and we’ll throw it all away
When the light hits your eyes, it’s telling me I’m right
And if I, I am through, then it’s all because of you
Just tonight.”
—————–
Alaska found herself in the same spot that she was a few hours ago, curled up in the corner of the bar. The boy she had been kissing had headed home after she’d rebuffed his advances, muttering something about her being a “prude”. However, Alaska waited a part of her wanting to see Sharon and confront her for her behaviour last meeting.
An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards the stranger’s body. Alaska felt like she should be scared, but she wasn’t, she knew exactly who it was.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl, Miss Alaska,” Sharon whispered into her ear, the act making goose bumps rise on Alaska’s skin. “I think you might have to be punished.” Alaska flipped around in Sharon’s arms, turning to face her. Out of some primal need that had taken over her mind for the past few days, the younger blonde dove at Sharon’s lips, her kiss rough and dominant. Sharon, obviously taken by surprise by the action, gasped, giving Alaska the perfect opportunity to shove her tongue down the girl’s throat. The older girl obviously wasn’t very used to submitting so easily and squirmed beneath Alaska’s touch, but Alaska stopped her from moving as one of her hands slipped its way into Sharon’s jeans. The way that Sharon moaned into her kiss when Alaska rubbed her clit was music to her ears, the power trip completely going to her head. Biting down hard on the girl’s lip, Alaska pulled away from the kiss as her lips hovered by Sharon’s ear.
“That might be true,” she started to whisper. “But you’re the one who needs a good spanking.” Alaska’s free hand grabbed Sharon’s ass as their kiss became heated once more and Alaska’s fingers plunged into Sharon without warning. The girl dug her short nails into Alaska’s arm, Alaska’s mouth moving from her lips and down her jawline. Sharon’s moans filled the empty bar, especially when Alaska raised her hand and spanked the girl’s ass lightly.
“I’m so close, princess,” Sharon made the mistake of saying and Alaska, instead of finishing the job, pulled her fingers out, licking them clean.
“Perfect,” the blonde chirped, a glint of evilness in her eye. “Your place or mine?”
Sharon shook her head in disbelief as Alaska started to skip towards the exit. Racing after her, the blonde managed to sputter out a reply.
“Mine.”
#alaska thunderfuck#sharon needles#adore delano#bianca del rio#shalaska#biadore#smut#just tonight#babe#rpdr fanfiction#submission#lesbian au#just tonight by babe
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Make America Gay Again - Shalaska - Grey
A/N: Multi-Chaptered Apocalyptic Post-Trump Shalaska (with some Witney/Rajila/eventual Trixya) That Hopefully Ends With Alaska Pissing on Trump’s Grave
This is my first chaptered fic since I wrote Spirits a year ago, so it’s gonna be a little rusty at first. I actually started this fic last June, but I think that it’s time it sees the light of day.
Following the election of President Donald Trump, civil war has broken out in America. Bernie Sanders, leader of the rebellion, has asked Rupaul to select 8 drag queens head revolutions across the country. Trumps’ stubborn refusal to acknowledge the existence of cross dressers has given them a head start.
First target: Austin, Texas.
Sharon was absolutely exhausted. She could feel the cold steel under her bare feet, her head pounding from the lack of sleep. As soon as Michelle had called her burner phone, she had begun her search for a way to get to California. It took a week until a girl finally slipped her an industrial train schedule out of New Jersey.
She had been living in the basement of a meth house in lower Pittsburgh since Trump had declared war on the “non conformists,” saying they were trying to destroy the country from the inside out. Everyone gay, transgendered, colored, disabled, or mentally ill was on the chopping block.
It was a miracle the trains were still running, Sharon thought, fiddling with the two holster straps running across her thighs. The night sky was steadily getting brighter from pollution: she knew she had to be getting close to LA.
As the train started to wind away from the city, Sharon pulled her stiletto boots back on and jumped out onto the grass. She staggered up, groaning. She had tried to roll like they do in action movies, but had pretty much just landed on her back.
It had to be 3am and she hadn’t slept in a couple days. Which is why, when she saw a mound of platinum hair bounding towards her, she almost started crying. Out of relief, hope, or affection, she wasn’t quite sure. She carefully composed herself, pulling grass out of her white wig.
Alaska slowed down as she neared her, Manila right behind her.
“How was your trip? You got here right on time. I’m glad you got off at the right place too, Phi Phi stayed on for two extra miles and it was a bitch tracking her down…” Manilla yammered on.
“Are you ready?” Alaska drawled, keeping her distance. Sharon nodded, and they started running back towards the city. Being caught out after hours was punishable by death, at best.
By the time they reached the bus, the sky was beginning to lighten. Sharon filed on after Manila, watching her dark hair sway against the back of her yellow dress.
Michelle gave her a bear hug, kissing the side of her face before Sharon could protest. Raja gave her a cool nod before returning to some of the fashion magazines Mathu periodically snuck in from Australia. Trixie was too busy arguing with Phi Phi to notice she had even entered.
“Okay, guys, now that we’re all here we’re going to leave as soon as possible. We’re lucky we got this tour bus in the first place, so please don’t complain about the lack of air conditioning.”
Everyone groaned. Sharon hadn’t even noticed Willam and Courtney tucked into the corner until Willam was shouting indirect obscenities. “Motherfucking cock sucker bitch! Who the fuck do I look like? Goddamn air conditioning shoulda hit the gym, toned up that coolness, conditioned them abs. Bitch!” Courtney shushed Willam between spurts of laughter.
Michelle looked so exhausted. The political climate hadn’t been easy for any of them to handle, but Sharon was sure Michelle had to leave her daughters and her husband to join this resistance. And that couldn’t be an easy decision to make.
Willam started yelling at no one in particular again, something about avian flu. Courtney punched him, obviously privy to Michelle’s mood. The thought that Michelle had a lot more to lose seemed to ripple through the bus.
Alaska, sucking her teeth carefully, directed Sharon towards the back. “Shit.” she muttered, pushing past Sharon back to the main cabin. “We only have 6 beds.” she stated to the room.
“Well, obviously Michelle gets one, and I can share with Raja.” Manila said, shifting on her feet. Sharon caught Raja’s subtle wink towards the other asian girl, before returning to her magazine.
Courtney piped up, “I can share with Willam” she said, her Australian accent thicker than ever. She must have been hanging out with Mathu a lot recently, Sharon thought. Ru’s headquarters was here in L.A. Chad Michaels and Mathu Anderson were Ru’s most trusted advisors, and all the local girls had probably been living with them for a while.
“Um, I can sleep out here.” Sharon gestured to the couch pushed against the wall. “I can do it” Alaska said definitively.
“No, seriously, it’s fine. You know how heavily I sleep.” She tried to joke. The room went quiet as Alaska clenched her jaw. “Then it’s settled.” Alaska said, grabbing a bag that must have been hers and clipping her way back towards the bunks.
Michelle rested a hand on Sharon’s back as conversation resumed, if a bit more quietly. “You know how hard she took it.” she tried to say comfortingly. “She’s such a sensitive soul, this election’s been really hard on her. And seeing you again after everything can’t be easy.”
Sharon tried to focus on the distraction of Michelle’s makeup-less face rather than her words. She really was beautiful, Sharon thought. The only phone service left was underground 2G networks that only worked with flip phones, so at least Michelle didn’t have to worry about the queens constant periscoping and vining and snapchatting her bare face anymore, Sharon thought, a little bit remorsely. She wasn’t a fan of constant social media herself, but that had a lot to do with the alcohol that used to plague her body. The thought only worsened her mood.
Sharon tuned back in to hear only Michelle’s last words of her soliloquy. “And I know you aren’t listening anymore Needles, but I love you, and I’m proud of you for handling this, because I know how hard it is for you too.”
Sharon leaned in to kiss Michelle’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re still with us Visage.”
“Me too baby, me too.”
+
It was a rocky road to Austin. They mostly took back routes, Trixie spitting out half-assed jokes the entire way there.
Willam barked out a laugh, and Sharon tried to hide her giggle behind one of the magazines she and Raja were sharing. They were squished into the same oversized armchair, skinny limbs splayed out at all angles.
Sharon forgot how much she loved Raja, no matter how quick Raja was to remind her that she was more punk rock than Needles. Staying on the east coast the past few months had certainly been weird. She had missed her LA sisters terribly, but she had such a visceral need to stay and fight the fascist forces that were so strong in her home near D.C.
Alaska came out from behind the partition dividing the bunk area. Sharon watched carefully as she sauntered across the room, leaning on her muscular arms to talk to the bus driver, Shawn from the pit crew.
“You got it bad, huh?” Raja smirked, watching Sharon watch Alaska.
“Fuck off.” she frowned, unable to tear her eyes away from the way Alaska’s bowed legs disappeared into her high waisted shorts, her crooked hips that curved into her spine and followed the hunch of her shoulders down to the ripple of her arms.
“Give her time. She was really pissed when you dumped her, I wouldn’t rush her too fast.” Raja said bluntly, snapping out her issue of Vanity Fair.
“I didn’t dump her” Sharon started to retort angrily when Alaska interrupted.
“We will be arriving in 6 hours, I suggest everyone gets some sleep.”
They all grumbled, and Sharon was pretty sure it was Willam who called out “Okay, mom.” (her certainty was based mostly on the volume of Courtneys giggles. Talk about having it bad.)
They all filed loudly into the back, and Sharon pretended to be too busy arranging a moth eaten blanket around herself to notice that Alaska was hanging back.
She took off her wig and settled into the couch as Alaska began to speak.
“I’m… let me know if you wanna trade. I can take the couch.”
Sharon nodded slowly. “Thanks, I will.”
Alaska furrowed her uneven brows, still struggling with her words. She settled on a quick “goodnight” before rushing into the bunks.
Sharon pulled the blanket over her head, frustrated with Alaska’s cold attitude. If she hadn’t been so fucking tired, she doubted she would be able to sleep.
+
Sharon woke to Michelle ruffling a hand through her uncut tangles of bleached hair. The roots were growing out brown, but it wasn’t really safe to get a bottle of hair dye from the supermarket right now.
“Baby, we gotta go.” Sharon squinted to see every queen on the bus ready and staring at her. She sat up quickly, pulling on her wig. “I’m ready” she blurted, searching the floor for her high heeled boots, pulling down her black dress and adjusting her boobs. She had never woken up faster in her life.
It was midnight in Texas. With the electricity shortage cutting back light pollution, Sharon had never seen Austin this dark.
“What’s the plan?” Phi Phi asked. She had a thick fur cape around a bathing suit. Her only weapon seemed to be a wooden staff, which she was twirling around nervously in her hands. The look seemed rather ridiculous to Sharon, but Phi was a fierce bitch, and was invited to be on this team for a reason.
Alaska shifted next to Sharon to address the group. “Westborough Baptist Church has a subset here. Manila and Courtney, since you’re the most passable as women, you’re going to sneak in the building and try to dismantle their computer system and erase all files. Replace all the links on their website to episodes of “The L Word”. The computer bank should be in the basement. Alyssa’s going to meet you out back of the building. She’s grown quite adept with this type of technology.
“Raja and Sharon, there’s an underground punk concert going on tonight downtown. It should be pretty safe. You need to get tracking information on anyone there that you can, so we can try to build a following. Give out radio station 101.1, Cynthia’s down here manning that one. She’s giving updates on the rebellion over the air. The station number will change every day, so make sure they know they need to track it every night to stay in the loop.
“Phi, Willam and I will be demolishing the new site for the Trump Tower that’s going to be built here. Trixie, you and Michelle will be hanging back in case of an emergency. Remember, whatever happens, you have to stay on target. Mission above Man. Our cause is stronger than any individual. Does everyone have each other’s cell phone numbers?”
Trixie groaned in annoyance at staying behind until Raja elbowed her in the stomach.
The emphasis on the mission above the queens as individuals struck a weird chord in Sharon. It seemed a strange thing to emphasize right before splitting up.
“We will meet behind the Target at 4:15am our time. If you’re the only one there by 4:20, run south on Main Street until you hit Max’s Gun store on the outskirts of the city. Shawn will be parked next to it. If no one else is there by 5, step on it and don’t look back.” Michelle finished.
Shawn opened the doors and everyone jumped out. They ran together a mile towards the city until they could see the distant flashing lights of the police force. They slowed down, skirting their separate directions.
Sharon took a last glance at Alaska, her long legs sprinting alongside Willam’s slight limp and Phi Phi’s short legs. She could make out the outline of the explosives strapped to their hips. She let out a short puff of air before turning back to Raja.
Sharon’s mind raced faster than her gangly legs. It had been extremely difficult to get exercise in Pittsburgh: Trump’s regime had been much stricted there, so Sharon was much more out of shape than the West Coast girls.
San Francisco had been the first to rise up. Portland was quick to follow, then Seattle, Chicago, Detroit and even New York, despite it’s proximity to D.C. After word of dissent in New York spread through the East Coast, anywhere with a tradition of acceptance or color began to rebel, even in small spurts.
If the rumors were true, major cities along the northern and southern borders were getting supplies snuck in from Mexico and Canada.
And of course, Los Angeles. Once San Francisco had pushed out Trump supporters, Ru had recruited their organizers to save LA.
It was safer, but nowhere near safe.
Sanders had told Ru that Operation Queen had one purpose: reunite. They were to dismantle any of Trump’s missions, and set an example of acceptance. They were starting in Austin because of it’s history of culture and art, which had unfortunately drawn Trump’s attention.
Sharon followed Raja through the wavering city. She’d been to Austin a few times before everything went to hell, so she vaguely remembered some underground punk clubs a few miles away. They trekked through the silence, sliding between buildings, crouching in the dark at the slightest hint of danger.
They explored any potential buildings until they found an old dark pub that seemed to be pulsing with bass. Raja straightened up, sauntering through the building until they found the basement where the music was coming from. The guards at the door didn’t question them - a benefit of being in full drag. Everyone they were trying to protect knew they were on their side.
They split up. Raja sidled up to people, whispering into their ears, typing out the radio station into their phones. A few recognized her, staring agape.
Sharon headed towards the makeshift bar in the back. A couple people had stacked boxes up to form a bar. They were passing out what seemed to be jungle juice. Sharon leaned on the boxes, giving the information to the bar tenders. They promised to pass it along to everyone they saw.
After an hour or so, Sharon found Raja dancing with a tall Puerto Rican. She shooed him away, pulling Raja up the stairs. “What would Manila think” she teased, Raja sticking her tongue out.
They rested in the empty first floor of the pub, stretching out their legs and rubbing their feet.
“We must have talked to everyone down there” Raja said, cracking her neck. Sharon yawned, nodding.
Raja continued, resting her head back against the wall, eyes closed. ”And it’s only 2:40, we still have another hour and a half before we have to meet up with everyone. Fuck, that was such a lame job. I understand if we have ways to communicate with masses of people we can really start a rebellion but I totally thought tonight would be more exciting.”
Sharon jabbed her side. “That’s just because you’re old. Doesn’t it feel good to finally start doing something? We’ve been hiding for so long, but we’re actually starting to fight back. Can’t you feel the spark in the air, that something’s finally happening.”
As the final syllable fell between her lips, an explosion rocked the floor, a faint scream heard in the distance.
Raja felt Sharon tense next to her. She opened her eyes to watch the other girl’s blue ones freeze in shock. “Shar, chill, that was just Phi, Will, and Alaska. The site for Trump Tower is only a few blocks from here.”
Sharon jumped up, frantically pulling back on her shoes. “It’s 2 am. None of the builders would be there. It’s in a district that has been evacuated. It had to be one of them that was screaming.”
Raja jammed her heels on, following Sharon through the pub, sprinting as soon as they hit the dusty streets. Raja, who had been a few steps ahead the entire way into the city, could barely keep up with Sharon’s panic-stricken steps. As they got within a quarter mile they could make out the blue lights of the police speeding through the next street over.
Huddling closer to the buildings, they slowed down, listening to the wails of sirens racing past them. They stayed one street down from where Trump Towers was being built and all the rushing sirens.
Sharon felt the pain in her side as she ran. It had been so long since she had gotten this much exercise, but she heard the distant scream on loop. Her brain was flicking back and forth from pure terror to a muddled mess.
It can’t be her it can’t be her I never said I never said - Now Sharon, pull yourself together, it could have been Willam or Phi Phi too - not that either of them getting hurt would be any better - shut the fuck up Sharon you’re a terrible person and you know they’d be better - fuck fuck fuck fuck - what if she’s just a little hurt? She just got scared. That’s it she just got scared - oh shit shit this is my fault this is my fault
Through the incoherent jumble pressing through her brain as she ran, she saw on repeat Alaska’s eyes, how she looked up through her lashes when she came to get her from the train two nights ago. Over and over, Alaska quietly, shyly, awkwardly looking up at Sharon. How Sharon had seen that look a million times before, years ago. Alaska, embarrassed at waking Sharon up when she had a bad dream. Alaska, scared to tell Sharon Cerrone was sick. Alaska, flirting shyly across the bar…
Sharon tripped into the ground as Raja skidded to a stop. The crowds of policemen and Feds circled the site of Trump Tower, one block over that they could see through a thin alley.
The ground sight for the new Trump Tower was underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time: nothing more than piles of glass and wood now collapsed into the huge foundation. Building cranes soaring high into the night, the glowing metal frames towering over them, contrasting the darkness.
And a shape at the top of the one on the left…. Hundreds of feet up, bowed legs, a mass of hair scurrying up the structure.
“ALASKA” Sharon screamed, Raja pulled her back instantly, fire in her eyes. Search lights swept from the tops of the larger cop trucks as Sharon desperately tried to wiggle out of her grasp.
Raja tugged her towards the ground, sitting on her stomach. “Sharon Needles you fucking idiot. I don’t give a fuck what happened between you and Alaska. If you jeopardize this goddamn mission because of your own idiocy I will personally hand you over to Trump.
“We have people out here tonight. We have people counting on us. Yes, Alaska is very important to this group. Sanders and Ru have made her priority very clear. But we will be rational about this.”
Sharon nodded deftly.
Raja shook her, trying to pull her back to reality.
“Fuck! Fuck okay. Let’s think then.” Sharon matched Raja’s barely perceptible whisper as they peered down the alley. “Okay. I don’t think they’ve seen her yet. We have no idea where Phi or Willam are. We could go out in a blaze of glory and hope our girls escape?” More sirens screamed, surrounding that forsaken hole in the ground, searching for the source of the destruction.
“No, we can’t die on the first fucking mission. Diversion?”
“Where? How?”
“We could go back to that pub. Cause a scene there, distract the police.”
“And have them killed? Fuck no. We’re trying to help people Raja.”
“We don’t have any explosives. How do we cause a diversion?” As Raja finished speaking, Willam flew across the street, sprinting through their alley and grabbing both of their arms. “Go go go go go go” she whisper-screamed. Sharon whipped her head around in confusion just in time to see that twiggy bundle that was Alaska precariously perched at the very end of the crane’s arm, drop something tiny into the pit.
Willam pulled her harder, across the next street and around the corner as the loudest noise Sharon had ever heard seemed to split her head in half. Sharon felt her eyes close involuntarily, the ringing in her ears stunning her, throwing her off balance exactly as the ground rocked beneath them, sending her sprawling into hard concrete and the crooked limbs of her friends.
It felt like rebirth, opening her eyes again. Ash fluttered around them like snow, the convenience store behind them still reverberating. Her body ached from being thrown so violently to the ground. Willam seemed to be unconscious at her feet, Raja slowly stirring next to her. Sharon could make out Phi Phi, a dozen yards down the street, rising gradually as well.
Raja shook her long limbs, carefully reaching down to run her dark fingers across Willam’s face.
Sharon felt thoughts slowly return to her head, the first one being “Alaska” and the next one being “Now.”
She stumbled up, falling over before pushing her back towards the site. It was like running through sand, like a dream. The weight of her exhausted, bruised legs pulled her. She just wanted to lay down again. To close her eyes.
She wasn’t sure when the pavement started bleeding, or when her feet began connecting with bodies, or the twisted metal that once was a car. The arm of the construction crane was destroyed, a brief splint now hanging off the metal column it was attached to. The pit that was the foundation of Trump Tower was, well, it was still a pit. But a much bigger, fucked up pit.
“Alaska” she felt the air leave her mouth but could hear no sound. “ALASKA” she screamed desperately. She picked her way over police bodies towards the base of the construction cranes, a hundred feet away.
Her eyes, blurry from the head trauma of hitting the pavement, locked on what seemed to be a boulder… no a blanket…. A body?
Tangled in a heap of hair, Alaska’s face looked so young lying in the dirt. Sharon fell to her knees as Alaska stirred slowly, her limbs stretching like a baby animal, testing the air, unsure how to move. Sharon scanned her pale body for damage.
“A parachute.”
“What?” Sharon could barely hear the disoriented Alaska as she took in the crooked angle of Alaska’s left arm, the blood seeping into her hair, the bruises already formed up and down her body.
“I should have had a parachute.” She repeated dizzily, eyelids fluttering back closed.
Sharon felt heat on her face, touched it and felt the tears fucking up her foundation. They laid pearly tracks along Sharon’s skin, carving into her cheekbones and dripping off her dimpled chin. They contained years of friendship turned to love, turned into the tumultuous relationship that defined Sharon’s life. That love that accumulated into devastating separation, as Alaska begged for them to escape to the West Coast, and Sharon preached their need to fight this new regime.
The Earth wasn’t the only world Trump had ruined. Sharon’s was destroyed as well, as fear took over Alaska, pushing her away to California. The same fear that forced Sharon to stay.
The tears rolled faster and faster as she hauled Alaska up in her arms, carrying her back to the other girls. The pain that burned in all of her limbs shot straight to her aching heart as Alaska, bruised and bloody, lulled her head against Sharon’s shoulder.
+
Somehow they all made it back to the bus, Michelle gasping as Sharon carried Alaska on board. She hadn’t let anyone else take a turn hauling her the miles back to the meeting point, no matter how much Phi Phi begged to help, or Raja shook her head.
Michelle wrapped Alaska in her arms, setting her on the couch and yelling at Manila to get the first aid kit.
Sharon grabbed Willam, pulling her back to the bunk area behind the curtain as Shawn began to accelerate through the night.
She pushed her against the bunks. “What the fuck were you thinking. That was not the goddamn plan.”
Willam stood, shaking. “It was a good idea. We’d get the police around us, set off the bigger explosion. We thought Alaska would have enough time to get back down the crane before the bomb went off. Alaska thought it was a good idea. We agreed. She decided she’d be the one to do it. She wouldn’t let Phi or I. She’s the leader, we listened, we accomplished what we came to do.”
“So what? You were okay with maybe killing Alaska? I can’t believe you. We’re a team goddammit, all of us. This is by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, and that must have taken effort. You don’t get to make your own fucking decisions.” The cruelty dripped from Sharon’s quiet, frantic voice.
Willam shoved Sharon. “You don’t get to fucking talk to me like that. It was a good idea. It worked. We won tonight. We’re going to get hurt doing this Sharon. Alaska is going to get hurt sometimes. We’re doing this to save lives. We’re doing this to stop Trump. You need to sort out your fucking priorities.” She hissed, before turning on her heel back to the main area.
Sharon had never seen Willam like this. Willam was kind and generous, sometimes cold but understanding. He had certainly never laid hands on Sharon. It sobered her, the rush of anger gone. With a huff, she collapsed into one of the bunks, vacated by the broken and bleeding Alaska in the next room, and fell into a deep, painful sleep.
#make america gay again#grey#shalaska#manila luzon#raja gemini#sharon needles#alaska thunderfuck#willam belli#courtney act#trixie mattel#phi phi o'hara#m/m au#dystopian au#our dickhead fascist president#I wrote some of this drunk please forgive the errors#rpdr fanfiction#submission
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