#i have been wearing the same binder since like. age 14. so.

[snowdice]

Sometimes Labels Fail (Bonus Features)

Want to know what I’m blathering on about? Click below!

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Title in my Word Document: The Correct Label is Baby. He’s Baby. (Yes, I label my WIP’s with memes when at all possible. No, I am not taking constructive criticism)

Technical Writing Facts:

This fic appears in three different places in my documents. First it started in my Ideas word document, then it transferred over to a file called TSSS superhero (which has now become where I store things in this universe until they become their own stories or one-shots. Currently I have 13,746 unpublished words in this folder… most of it is piecemeal, but I digress.). Then I decided to rewrite parts of it and put it in the word document mentioned above.

I wrote most of the story during finals week. The last chapter was written while I proctored my student’s exams. Logan’s crack about being asked questions about his class by students at coffee shops was me venting over something that had happened recently. Please, do not come up to me with your laptop open in a public place. I just wanted a cup of tea.

Patton did not originally have a large role in this fic. Then I wrote the first paragraph and thought it was funny to have Logan being absolutely serious as he listed out the way he segmented his life and just input random not as serous things, and Patton convincing him to put jam in cookies came up and then the binder part came in and suddenly it wasn’t a joke and they’d been married for decades.

In part 2, Logan comforts Patton by hugging him, rubbing his back, and laying his cheek on top of his head. In part 3, you see Patton comforting Virgil in the exact same way. This is intentional as Logan observed this behavior from Patton over the years and emulates it.

I wrote the whole story before giving Logan and Virgil superhero names. Instead I just wrote (Logan) and (Virgil) every time so I could “control f” their names with parenthesis when I decided on something.

I couldn’t stop calling Virgil Shadow Crawler and I don’t know why. I kept having to go back and find and replace in my word document for it.

I immediately regretted calling Logan Bluebird. It was fine for his chapter and then I couldn’t stop laughing every time Virgil seriously called him that in his head.

Character Facts:

All of the sides + Emile and Remy exist and are sympathetic in this AU.

Logan:

Logan has a doctorate degree in math and physics. He double majored in both and went straight for a PhD in math after his undergrad. He picked the physics one up later. He also went and got a bachelor’s degree in biology. (No this wasn’t so he could understand Patton’s research papers better. That would be an irrational reason to get a college degree.)

Logan became a superhero out of academic spite because of course he did.

When Logan first became a hero, it was shortly after a scandal that happened where a major superhero’s identity was exposed, and it turned out it was the spouse of an important political figure. It was a very public and messy divorce. Logan swore to himself he’d never get into a relationship with someone who didn’t already know he was a superhero, citing it was a bad foundation for relationships. The catch 22 was that he refused to tell anyone his secret identity. Patton ended up figuring it out on his own. Logan had not accounted for this.

In fact, Logan at the end of this story, had never told anyone his secret identity. At the end of this story only three people knew: Patton, Virgil, and Remy. No one ever told Remy and they never discussed it with him. He just kinda figured it out and didn’t say anything. Logan knows he figured it out and also hasn’t said anything. Remy is a bit salty about this and likes to send subtle jabs at Logan about it. Both Patton and Logan know he knows. He’s known almost as long as Patton. It’s almost an inside joke between them at this point.

Virgil:

Virgil doesn’t know anything about his birth-parents other than his birth mother died in childbirth.

Virgil once stole something that was not money or food and it was completely accidental. He broke into a museum just to look as a 14th birthday present for himself. He got caught by a guard and panicked. For some reason, his panicked brain told him since he was a villain, he had to make it look like there was a villainous reason for him to be there… so he stole a statue. Yeah, he doesn’t understand it either. Yes, he ended up getting it back to them. What was he supposed to do with a statue?

Virgil plays the clarinet and is actually pretty good. He wasn’t able to get into any of the bands you have to audition for (he’s just in the general non-audition band at school) and was never able to really practice. Plus, his clarinet is one of those meh loaners from the school.

Virgil ends up majoring in biology with a minor in chemistry and attends the same college Logan teaches at.

I haven’t quite decided what Virgil’s going to do for his career when he grows up, but I’m leaning toward something in the medical field, though not a surgeon like Patton. Maybe a pediatrician.

Patton:

Patton was the one originally with the name Sanders. Logan took his name when they married.

Patton’s family life wasn’t… great in his youth. He had some unhealthy perceptions of relationships and his place in relationships he had to work through.

The café Virgil and Logan went to in the last chapter is where Patton and Logan first met! Patton almost poured an entire cup of coffee on him because he was exhausted after a shift at the hospital. He didn’t even notice that Logan used his powers to prevent an accident. Logan wasn’t sure if he was acting like he didn’t noticed and was plotting something. He decided to keep an eye on him. (Spoiler alert: he did keep a very good eye on him.

Patton saved the life of the current mayor. She had been the chief of police about a decade before this story. She was majorly injured in the line of duty to the point where basically she was a lost cause. Patton, though, saw her two elementary aged sons and went absolutely not. With the permission of her wife, he took her in for multiple surgeries (many experimental) and by pure force of will stitched her back together. She woke up half a year later. Will she ever walk again? No. Did she get to adamantly insist on carrying boxes on her lap while riding a wheelchair to help her sons move into their college dorm this past fall? Yes.

Because of the above, Patton gets invited to many high-profile events. Patton does not like going to these things alone. Which isn’t a problem until Bluebird is on the guest list.

Remy:

Remy has been working with Patton for basically forever. He’d been working for less than a year before he got swept up for an emergency surgery because he was the closest one around and it was a very high-profile case that needed to be dealt with right that second. That’s when he first met Patton and due to certain events, everyone in that room ended up with a certain tie to each other. He’s basically been Patton’s nurse ever since even when they just worked together in the ER. Everyone knew Remy was Patton’s nurse even though he wasn’t officially. When Patton stopped being an ER surgeon and became more of a specialist, Remy followed him right out the door and now works with him and two other doctors.

Roman:

Roman didn’t appear in this story, but he was mentioned and he’s around. He started going out in a prince costume when he was 17. (He is 3 years older than Virgil). He gets away with it mostly because everyone “knows” Roman’s too dramatic and likes to boast. The boy couldn’t keep a secret like that to save his life. So, what if that guy has superstrength like him? Look he’s sitting right there. Wait that’s Remus? …Nah, still couldn’t be him.

Remus:

Remus is Roman’s twin and has the same powers as him. He is not active during this story, but he will end up as a “villain.” He actually ends up working with a government agency to basically go undercover as a supervillain and helps bring down villains. He’s really good at it. His mothers know, but honestly, they kind of expected something like this. They’re just glad their other son is just a normal actor who has no interest in risking his life…

Deceit:

Deceit was actually mentioned (though not by name) in the first chapter. He is a vigilante and has been since before Logan was on the scene. Logan hates him. He probably would have gotten over being shot that one time, but then he made the mistake of needing medical care and kidnapping a doctor… He didn’t harm Patton at all, and Logan found him in like two hours, but none of that mattered. Logan was super, super pissed. The funny thing is, Deceit was not and still is not aware of Patton’s personal connection to Bluebird. He isn’t quite sure why Bluebird treats him with more disdain than he does most villains, but just figures he’s an asshole.

Emile:

Emile is a pretty well-known psychiatrist. He offered his services free of charge for people affected by the school shooting. He even extended the invitation to Bluebird, letting him wear the mask the whole time. Logan took him up on it because honestly, it was a traumatic situation and he figured he should deal with it now rather than later. Emile is currently dating Remy. He was not 100% sure why the superhero Bluebird seemed to be giving him dating advice at a party, but it worked out. (No, Remy is not aware Logan set him up.)

Feel free to keep sending asks about this story going forward. I love them and I have a lot more about this universe in my head that I didn’t put here either unintentionally or intentionally.

Click here for asks already answered in chronological order.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #remy sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #tw school shooting #tw medical #tw surgery #sometimes labels fail #bonus features #labeled universe #deceit sanders #emile piccani

[kaypeace21]

Byler hints in the background of s1-3

Honestly, this should just be called- ‘my autistic brain casually (and without even trying) notices shit in the background, but never mentioned it- because I thought it sounded too crazy to talk about’ XD. But the symbolism and Easter eggs give my byler-shipping heart so much life. So I thought, since you guys prob. didn’t notice it- I’ll mention it anyways.  So here goes.

Drawings/rainbows

There has been a theme in s3 about how Mike equates ‘falling for girls’ as a part of growing up, and his feelings for Will as something childish that he has to has to grow out of. 

- confessing to El : “A feeling … yeah, like, something… like OLD PEOPLE say it sometimes”.

- “And Will too. I was thinking we could all have new presents to play with and *scoffs* Sorry, that made me sound like a 7 year old... (apologizing to El)

- Mike getting in a fight with Will (after d&d), and saying they can’t be close anymore: 

Mike says, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”, and then he tries to ½ apologize only to say, “I’m not trying to be a jerk. Ok? But We’re not kids anymore.” Explaining, this is just the way things are-boys fall in love with girls, get girlfriends, and this is just a part of growing up (heteronormativity).  He tells Will “I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?” And poor Will who is probably more aware of his feelings just responds. “Yeah, I guess I did. I really did.” And of course Mike immediately apologizes for being an “ asshole”, after this.

But here’s the thing! Mike actually does wish he didn’t have to grow up and that he could play games with Will (without girlfriends) for the rest of their lives. His room, in s3, SCREAMS that he’s trying to grow up/act straight... but he can’t let go of his feelings for Will. 

He literally takes down his old childhood poster from s1-2 for a more mature/adult poster. But on the same wall (where the old poster used to be) he hasn’t removed a single d&d drawing Will has given him. He’s pretending that he’s grown out of d&d when Lucas is around- because he’s emulating how (the straight) Lucas acted, all season. But Mike has it BAD (and is seriously pinning) for Will! Like, I love Will but his art at 11 years old isn’t so great to justify it still be on Mike’s wall at age 14.  He’s just that whipped (and literally can’t part with a single drawing Will has ever given him) XD

Like... it’s cannon that Mike caresses Will’s drawings 

He’s that ‘ dumbass blinded by love’ who thinks anything Will’s draws is a perfect- masterpiece. Mike could literally see Will draw scribbles and think it’s amazing! Like in s2 he just guides his hands through the scribbles he drew on the wall- no joke! XD

However, what’s interesting though is the one other things he took down from his wall. In S1 Mike (before he even met El)  has a heart sign, with a red heart being propelled by a rainbow. Yet in s3 , the season where he’s ‘obsessing’ about El- it mysteriously disappears. However, in the first ep of s3 when Mike is making-out with El we see a emergence of the heart being propelled by a rainbow (in El’s room) as a drawing. Probably signifying Mike participating in compulsory-heterosexuality and that no matter how hard he tries- he’s not straight!

So given the fact he can’t part with any of the pictures on the wall...you better believe Mike still has that giant binder filled with every drawing Will has given him . And he’s probably hidden it away , with the rainbow heart sign (because he knows it would look suspicious to have laying around). 

-Also, Mike literally has more rainbow symbolism than Will (and has had it through every season) XD

-the s2 ref being the most on the nose) Forbidden fruit + rainbow = queer forbidden romance. And during the 80s, that rainbow-apple poster in the AV Club was suspected to be in reference to Alan Turning (the gay ‘father of computers’).

Animal easter eggs that relate to byler and the upside down/supernatural-plot .

tigers- Mike keeps a tiger poster (which was right next to that rainbow-heart sign) in his basement through s1-3. In s1 we see Will also has a tiger drawing, which is later put on the wall (like a poster) in s2.  Sara Hopper (like Will ) had her death faked by the government (and had a tiger plushie in s1)- and Kali probably had something to do with it since in the prequel novel ‘suspicious minds’ had Kali talk non stop about her fav animal , tigers.  Theory  here. But again, Jancy is also connected to tigers as a romantic symbol (just like byler).

sharks- The Duffer brothers themselves said they based the s1 demorgorgan off of sharks, which Nancy even references in s1. Mike and Will have shark iconography in their room/basement. Will has a jaws poster shown in s1-2, and Mike has shark toys visible in s2. The shark (and bear) symbolism hint at the fact that Will created the upside down/demorgorgans/mind-flayer using his powers- theory here.

bears- Will since s1 has had bear symbolism around him. Bears symbolically represent  “wisdom” like ‘Will the wise’ and were associated with the demorgorgan/upside down in s1 and 2 as well . Max and Nancy compared demogorgans to bears- and Nancy and Jonathan used a bear-trap to capture a demorgorgan in s1 . 

But s3 made bears a romantic symbol- Mike was going to buy a golden teddy bear for El as a romantic gesture. The golden bear had a bowtie (it’s male). And the gray bear that Mike gives to her, was originally Will’s (as shown in s1 &2). This gray bear is coming right in between Mike and El (at the end of s3). They even kiss , while El presses the bear right in between them.  In conclusion these romantic bears represent Will. * I mean that whole awkward kiss (where Mike’s eyes are open and he doesn’t kiss back- happens in Will’s room, in front of Will’s open closet,  with Will’s bear smushed between them (pretty blatant foreshadowing).

dinosaurs- This one is probably a stretch but we see this boy has tons of dinosaurs (at least 6). He starts to info-dump on El about how much he loves them. But, she has no interest. And if the wtf look didn’t make this obvious.

She even gets up and walks away, ignoring his tangent about dinosaurs. 

She literally couldn’t care less about his interest in them. 

But in spite of this, we see Mike gave her Rory in s3 (since it’s in her bedroom). And in s2 we see him sadly look at Rory, with 2 other dinosaurs in frame. This, along with s1 implies he has a huge collection of various dinosaurs .But his collection is missing one of the most popular dinosaur species... the brachiosaurus (the long necked dinosaur).

And right after this scene in s2 scene, we go to Will’s room. And he has a huge brachiosaurus! This boy couldn’t even afford a halloween costume and had to have his hand-made by his mom... but he could afford this huge -fancy dinosaur replica? I bet Mike bragged about his dinosaur collection to Will (like he did with El). But Will being a nerd, was actually impressed. So Mike actually gave him his best/fav toy in his collection- kind of like what he did with Rory.

frogs- This is the most hilarious thing to me. I laughed for like 20 minutes on my rewatch. In s1 Will has a GIANT stuffed plushie of a frog next to his jaws poster and teddy bear. I’m dead! Will doesn’t even disagree with the “frog face“ insult. 

He’s just like ‘well, he’s my frog face’ . Time to snuggle with this frog that looks just like Mike . Will is so in love but also low key savage dragging Mike like that. I can only imagine Dustin and Lucas saying “nah, you don’t look like a frog”. And poor baby-Mike asking Will what he thinks, and Will not being able to lie, just saying “ Well... some people like frogs.”  XD

We also see that in s2 the frog is missing but the Jaws-poster, coin jar, and the bear (we later see El holding in s3) remain .Probably to indicate this is when Will started to subconsciously suppress his feelings for Mike. Although @theclericwill pointed out -that , instead, Mike may have used the frog-plushie as a pillow... for his frog-face XD

Throwing shade at Mileven/mileven shippers in s2 

In the Montauk pitch (later named Stranger things) they describe the Mike and El dynamic by saying “ If Mike is the Eliot of our show,Eleven is our Et.” (AKA they’re from different planets)

-In s2 , Erica  is forcing He-man and barbie to make out. Lucas angrily separates the two. And then this discussion happens.

Erica: “Hey , They’re in love!”

Lucas (livid- and standing right next to a rainbow): “No, actually,  they’re not. They don’t even exist on the same planet.”

Not to mention I doubt it was a coincident they had a (bratty) pre-pubescent girl be the proxy for most mileven shippers.Like not all mileven shippers are bad, but almost all the toxic ones (that the Duffers have to deal with) are tween girls. And to the Duffers, only a child could think 2 people are ‘in love’ after a week of knowing each other. Or that El could understand such things like romance- given the fact that her and Mike are from different planets (given how El has no experience with the outside world).Mike even says in s2,  he can’t hate Max because he ‘doesn’t know’ her (despite knowing her as long as he knew El). Meaning he doesn’t love El since he doesn’t know her. 

Plus, El told Mike, he treats her like ‘garbage’ and ‘a pet’ . And Finn after s1, said that the Duffers told him Mike thought of El as a puppy, and she is even compared to Dart (a demo-dog in s2). Mike asking Dustin, angrily “What, You have a bond? Just cause he likes nougat (eggos)?” Being a  blatant dig at people obsessing over this shallow aspect of their relationship.

Mileven was also compared to that  of family members. In s1, right before they kissed, she asks “will you be like my brother?” (while wearing Nancy’s dress). And Mike also referred to her as his ‘cousin’ . Not to mention, El loved ted’s laz-eboy chair (and Nancy said Karen and Ted “never loved each other” ). And right before Karen is about to cheat on Ted - she looks at him sleeping in the chair (and the lyrics are ‘I should have walked away’). 

It’s pretty hilarious, since so many people try to ‘no-homo’ byler by saying Mike thinks of Will as a brother/or family- yet, their relationship has never been directly compared to a sibling (unlike mileven).

People also seem to not realize Mike lied in s2 (just like he did in s3). He thought El was dead in s2. He told Max it “got her like it did bob” and then he made a spectacle in front of everyone saying “I never gave up on you”. Which was a blatant lie (since he just told Max a few minutes earlier, she was dead -_-). Mike simply blamed himself for her death (he said they needed her to save Will and even referred to her as a “weapon”). So when she died he felt the most responsible- and was hoping she was alive (and would answer his call) to alleviate his own guilt. Not because he loved her (that was an act). When he saw Will’s dead body, but heard his voice, he went on a rescue mission to save Will (from another dimension). But, Mike didn’t even bother going into the woods after seeing El outside his window (something he did for Will in ep 1, during a storm). And then in s3 Mike couldn’t even bother to call El and apologize- but ran to apologize to Will in the woods during a storm (bringing that whole parallel -full circle).

Plus, El told Mike, he treats her like ‘garbage’ and ‘a pet’ . And Finn after s1, said that the Duffers told him Mike thought of El as a puppy, and she is even compared to Dart (a demo-dog in s2). Mike asking Dustin, angrily “What, You have a bond? Just cause he likes nougat (eggos)?” A blatant dig at people obsessing over this shallow aspect of their relationship.

Bob and Mike parallels- the Rubik cube

Both are unathletic, smart, love comics, the only 2 to not treat Will ‘different’- and would do anything to protect their loved ones. And they also had crushes on Byers in childhood, and tried to give their Byers normalcy (despite them not being a ‘normal family’). They purposely display, and have Will -mirror Joyce- and Mike -mirror Bob- in multiple shots, throughout s2.

And both Mike and Bob are AV club leaders. Bob mentioned in one of the  earlier episodes  that he founded the Hawkins Middle AV club . And Mike later grabs Bob’s Rubik cube, and mentions this after his death (to solidify the connection- even if subconscious in our minds. He even proclaims after this “we can’t let him die in vain” . And this is when Mike makes the plan to help Will (before El shows up). 

gif credit: cath-avery, dailystrangerthings

#byler #byeler

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 30)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3,  29

Part 31: here

.

LEWIS POV

Vivi is quiet after Lewis finishes his quick recount. Instead of offering him a reprieve to gather his thoughts, the silence is oppressive. Lewis is beginning to understand why Vivi dislikes it so much. He tries to shake the image of Lance Kingsman, deathly pail, unnervingly still, alone in that quiet hospital room but it is stuck at the front of his mind. The low thrum of hospital patrons does little to reduce the discomfort, which consumes the space between him and Vivi. His attention flickers to her intense frown. By now, she should have a least offered an opinion or hypothesis on their current predicament. She hasn’t, keeping her thoughts to herself instead of saying them aloud like she usually did. Why isn’t she talking? Was it him? 

Lewis is a little embarrassed about overreacting so spectacularly to a few missed calls but, honestly, that had probably been the worst moment for Vivi to not answer her phone. Vivi always answered her phone. For a second, he had thought she’d run off to join Arthur in self-imposed exile. What if she’d met up with Arthur and they’d both decided to avoid him together? Now he is just angry with himself for not trusting her -Vivi would never do that – and worried for Lance and increasingly worried for Arthur. “What do you think we should do?” He has to ask because he needs her to say something. Vivi fidgets, obviously searching around for an answer to give him. Why is he so useless in these situations? “Wait for news on Lance,” Vivi nods in the direction of the reception desk where Lewis had asked, only minutes prior, for directions to Lance’s recovery room. “Who knows, maybe Arthur will show up later…” She trails off, unconvinced by her own statement. Across the hall, one of the nurses operating the desk hangs up a phone, motioning to a co-worker, pointing in their direction. The second man, a doctor going by the white coat, twists to follow the gesture, staring at them from across the foyer. Lewis straightens and Vivi perks up, expression clearing into determination when the man strolls towards them. “Are you the one who pulled the alert for Lance Kingsman?” The grouchy middle-aged man asks, coming to a stop, looking them over, settling his attention on Lewis. “Yeah. Is Lance alright? What happened? I…haven’t heard anything, not since he went into surgery.” A negative head motion, “I don’t know much about Mr Kingsman’s condition unfortunately, but I’ve been asked…” “Was it complications with the original injury or did something else happen? Lance was admitted for stab wounds…are those prone to post-surgical complications?” Vivi jumps in to question. “I don’t know. All I’ve been told is to ask whether you…the two of you…” The doctor amends noting the way he and Vivi are pressed together, “would be willing to wait in one the private offices. The police would like to ask you a few questions, and the hospital would rather that not happen in the middle of the main foyer.” “Police?” Lewis repeats, confused. Vivi takes the development in stride continuing her line of questioning, “Does the hospital keep records of people who visit patients? Like, do people need to sign a register or something?” “No. Most of the recovery wards are generally open during visiting hours.” “That doesn’t sound very secure,” Vivi objects outright, “People have to ask at the reception to find out which room patients are in though?” “Most visitors have to stop by the front desk,” The man shrugs, giving Vivi a vaguely irritated expression, “Are you two going to wait or not? Technically, you don’t have to, but it was strongly advised that you do.” Vivi opens her mouth, but Lewis stands, interrupting her. Obviously, this guy doesn’t know much, and any further questions would just serve to irritate him and hurt their chances at gathering information further down the road. He is not sure what Vivi’s goal is exactly, but she obviously has one. The thought gives him confidence. “We’ll wait and talk to the police. Where do we enquire after patients in the meantime? We’re really worried about our friend.” “Uh,” The man blinks up at him, taken off guard his height, “Hospital records are only open to family members…Sorry. If you would follow me, there’s an office just down the hall you can wait in.” “What about security cameras? The hospital has those right?” Vivi’s question is ignored. They follow the man into a small room just off the main hall. It is neat, with a shelf of plain binders and a sparsely decorated desk. Probably someone’s personal office. Whereas the hospital foyer had been filled with the gentle hum of people, this room is quiet and muffled. “Just…stay here. Shouldn’t be too long. Help yourself to the water.” Lewis notes the water cooler and a stack of plastic cups in the corner. The man, still disgruntled, beats a hasty retreat, leaving them to take a seat on the padded chairs adjacent to the desk. A least its a bit more comfortable. “What was that about?” Lewis asks once the doctor is gone, to which Vivi gives a frustrated sigh. “I have this…hunch. I don’t think what happened to Lance just now was an accident.” “Lance…” He starts, and has to pause to shake the image Lance Kingsman, pale and unmoving - if Lewis had walked in any later-, “He was admitted for stab wounds…and now the police have been called….you don’t think that…” “…Whoever did the stabbing came back? That’s exactly what I think.” Lewis’s stomach twists, sick with worry. If Lance was being targeted, did that mean Arthur was in danger as well? If Arthur was in danger or hurt, Lewis can’t help but feel guilty, like this might be his fault. “It could have been complications with the surgery,” He voices weakly, wondering just how many more unpleasant surprises were in store for them today. Vivi releases a long breath, “Do you think, if I asked at the reception, that they’d remember seeing a dude in a leather vest come through?” Lewis raises a brow at the odd and somewhat random question. Even if there hadn’t been a change in shift, the chances of hospital staff remembering a single individual amongst the hundreds he’d seen coming and going was low. “Not unless the guy was really distinctive?” He leads off with a question, hoping she would elaborate. She doesn’t, lapsing back into silence. Uncomfortable silence. Lewis exhales, stands, and walks to the water cooler. Neither of them has drunken anything all day. That, coupled with food high in salt, meant they were most likely dehydrated. He fills and puts a small plastic cup in Vivi’s hand, sipping one of his own, collapsing back down into the chair. “Do you know anyone who wears a leather vest, darker hair, big beard, really angry looking?” Vivi gulps the water down in one go, staring expectantly. “…” Lewis quickly runs through all the people he knew, but no one immediately jumps out. “Why?” “I met this guy in the carpark. The reason I was a bit late,” A guilty grimace, “He was looking for Arthur and recognised your purple hair. He thought I might know where Arthur was because I was with you.” “Strange….A customer maybe?… We do get a few strange ones.” “That’s just it. I mean, if he was after just you then maybe, but he wasn’t. He was after Arthur…Also, he was real weird about it. He looked pretty beat up to, like he’d been in a fight.” Lewis’s thoughts cycle and land on one particular, almost violent, encounter which fit the description. “There was this one guy…This would have happened about four weeks back…Arthur got himself into trouble annoying some guy about fixing their motorcycle. I think we told you about it. Anyway, the man was decked out in a lot of leather and stayed in town for a week. He left without much fanfare aside from starting a load of rumours.” What were the odds that this was the same guy, though? Arthur, after narrowly escaping being punched by the man, and in between bemoaning poor engine maintenance, had mentioned that the bike was made for hardcore road-tripping. The guy should be long gone. Lewis shakes away the fonder memory. “I actually saw him before he left town. He came into the diner to apologise for almost punching Arthur. There was another man with him, I think. What did he want?” He distinctly remembers the encounter because he had thought, what with how invested Arthur had been in fixing up the motorcycle - against the wishes of its possessive owner-, that he would be pleased to find out his verdict was correct. Only, Arthur hadn’t been pleased. He hadn’t reacted to the news at all. “Yeah, well, mystery man might have implied that Arthur is either working with, or possessed by, a demon. And that’s why Arthur’s been acting all weird these last few weeks.” Lewis stares at Vivi waiting for the punchline of whatever odd joke she’s telling. There is no punch line. She’s serious. “That’s…” “Crazy? Yup…it sure is.” Vivi crosses her arms again and frowns, agitated. Vivi loves myths, legends and investigating supernatural phenomenon. If someone in Tempo whispered the word ghost, then it was a sure bet that Vivi wasn’t far behind. Personally, Lewis enjoyed ghost hunting and investigating as a hobby, but he had never really believed that any of the stuff they searched around for was real. The fact that Vivi appeared so shaken by this encounter has him re-evaluating the gut reaction to deny. “What do you think? You know more about this stuff than me.” “Well, he said some stuff about demons possessing people via touch and having green eyes, which kind of lines up with the stuff I’ve read, but that doesn’t mean much. He could have just read the same books as me.” More frowning. “Honestly, it’s far-fetched…and he probably is just a crazy person who, I dunno, wanted to get his bike fixed. Just… It would be nice to blame all our problems on some random ‘demon’ and call it a day. But…that feels like I’m making up an excuse for being an unobservant friend. I mean, Arthur was acting weird way before Lance was attacked, so I’m not sure.” As Vivi speaks, growing more restless and upset, Lewis attempts to envision the leather guy to act as a target for his growing anger. Not a lot of things can make Lewis hate a person but, even if the guy wasn’t messing with Arthur, upsetting Vivi like this would do it. Tenderly, Lewis reaches out, threading their fingers together. Maybe, he’s been relying too heavily on Vivi’s quick thinking. Time to offer up his own theories. “We don’t know it’s not connected somehow. If this guy is the same guy from a few weeks back, then he might have been in contact with Arthur since then. From what I remember, he didn’t seem like a nice dude. Even when he came to apologise, it was like someone was forcing his hand. Pretty insincere at any rate. Maybe, it’s like you said, and he is just behind this recent attack. Or maybe he’s involved with everything...or this is a weird coincidence and not connected at all.” Lewis pauses then adds more confidently. “Just because it’s weird, doesn’t mean we should discount it entirely.” Isn’t that what Vivi always said whenever they went ghost hunting? Vivi squeezes his hand back, lips twitching up, apparently thinking again. “The timing does sort of work…” She agrees, hesitant, “I just wish I knew more. It feels like I’m missing something important.” Lewis takes a breath and continues, speaking faster to get the words out. “Arthur panicking at the hotel wasn’t the only time it happened. On the drive out, just before we stopped at that View Point, I asked a question about Arthur’s lack of online presence. I thought he was trying to avoid me. He cut our conversation off and almost drove us all over a cliff.” That had been particularly painful, and Lewis can still feel the sting of realising that Arthur would rather almost crash the van then talk to him. Until that moment, he and Arthur had always talked through their disagreements. “Oh,” Vivi stalls, thrown, “I…I mean, I sort of knew something was wrong but…” “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I feel the same way about the 'being an unobservant friend' thing. If I had just said something or paid more attention …then maybe stuff would have happened differently.” A beat of quiet. Vivi stares then lets out a long huff. “Geez, we make quite a pair don’t we…” A knock. The door to the office opens, putting their discussion on hold. A thin man in an officer’s uniform steps through, conversing with someone over his shoulder. He turns, glancing over them both.

“Which of you was the one to alert hospital staff to Lance Kingman’s condition?”

.

NOTE:  ‘Leiws and Vivi exposition dump’ because I gotta make sure everyone’s up to speed -and this shits been going on long enough- for when I launch into the EPIC climax only like 2000-4000words away now! (gonna finish this fic even if it kills me).

Part 31: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Vivi Yukino #Lewis pepper #time travel #talking about stuff #lewis angst #Vivi angst #angst and feels #trying to solve the arthur mystery continues #so close yet so far

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 14

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU.  For their first outing on the town together, the sexual tension is ripe and heavy in the air. Will their night end how they plan it?

Warnings/Tags: Mild Language. Date Night. Flirting. Sexual Content. Violence. 

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Bella found herself floating like a much younger girl who’d never been hurt, slumping against the door after a slow and tortuous goodnight kiss.

She could smell him on her hands where she’s buried them in his hair and under his jacket, feel the plumpness of her lips, swollen from kissing him so long. She hummed with calm energy, biting her lip and smiling with no one around to make fun of her girlish behavior. No one except Robbie anyway.

Declan had a dopey smile on his face that he didn’t try to hide from anyone. Smile staying as he kept sighing, feeling a fullness in his chest as he drove home. The line had been crossed, his patience had been rewarded with an amazingly soft and sweet Bella and kisses of the same description. His moody little badass, his low key sweetheart and an absolute stunner in his eyes. And she wanted more. Of him, specifically which made his shoulders go slack and his insides melt at the words. A big puppy getting its belly rubbed is what he felt like, all warm and wiggly and excited. A kiss like the one they shared could only mean that other things between them would also be good. Man, they had chemistry, he thought to himself as he grew only slightly distracted on the empty road at the late hour. He knew he’d be thinking about her until he saw her again. He already wanted to. But he had to show restraint. Didn’t want to come on too strong for a woman like her, scare her off. He had her purring like a kitten in his arms, a smile on her lips after he kissed them, whispering she was looking forward to the date and more of this. It’s exactly where he’d wanted her, and he was going to make her his.

———

Mid-way through the workweek the whole office is buzzing about Bella. Did you see her in PINK lipstick? Hear her listening to Al Green? See the way she smiles at her phone when it lit up now? Her normally curmudgeon behavior had softened its edges just slightly. At least when she thought no one was paying attention.

“You gonna fess up yet?”

“Nothing to confess.” She says brow still low as her fingers shifted through a binder.

“Then tell me why you’re smiling at your phone at least? If it really is nothing I can squash the rumors.”

“Rumors?” She scoffs

“You know, secret boyfriend, secret girlfriend? Hitched in secret, pregnant with a hidden long term partners child?” She offers with a smirk.

“None of those things.” She replies looking up with a not hateful but not accommodating face.

“You gonna blame it on dog memes again?” CeeCee quirks a brow.

“To be fair...it usually is dog memes.” She lets out a low chuckle.

“Fine. I’ll find out one of these days.” She calls out as she walks down the hall.

——

“I closed up before you even got back, boyo.” Mike already grinning ear to ear as he puts on his apron, Declan sat at the bar and going over his books.

“It’s because I got back after that.” He says in a sash tone Mike is used to.

“And…? How’d it go?” He asks leaning on his elbows on the opposite side of the counter.

“Great.” He says plainly.

“Oh c’mon!” He says and shoves Declan’s shoulder.

He takes off his reading glasses and purses his lips at Mike.

“Ya not talkin? That bad? Or that good?” He asks with a jutting out chin and smile that read as patronizing.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’ve not had no kissin TO tell in so long and Christ knows I innit gettin’ any so give me somethin’. Let me know my boy's heart’s intact. That we’ll be seein’ little Bella again.”

“If I told you and she found out she’d be pissed.”

“Likes her privacy eh?”

“Anyone with a brain would assume so.” He shoots Mike an obvious glare.

“So there’s somethin to tell?”

“There’s not...nothing to tell.”

“Fuckin spit it out, if ya can’t tell ya best mate who the fuck can ya tell?”

He sighs and gives in, having her on his mind constantly he wanted to tell someone bless him, it was in his nature to share good news to those close to him. “Paintball was a hit, she was great, liked it. Ate at Tony’s, perfect. Talked for hours. She was...well ya know. I think she was amazing.” He muttered the last part.

“Oh look at him! A wee blush to his cheeks! He’s got it bad he does!” He pinches Declan’s cheek and he smacks him away. “So ya didn’t take her to bed yet eh? Never known two adults who like each other so much to take it so damned slow.”

“We didn’t sleep together but…” he smirks, “I did kiss her.”

“There he is! Lady killer! Get her boy!” He growls and cheers enthusiastically as Declan grins at him slapping his arm.

“We’re going out on a real date this weekend.”

“Oh, a real one eh? That mean you need to clean your apartment?” Mike teases.

“Already did so, jokes on you.” He answers with a groan as he stretches his back. “But I might not be back that night.” He adds.

“I sure as fuck hope not!” Mike says obviously.

————

One part of Bella didn’t want to seem too eager, but another part of her brain wanted to just say “fuck it!” and get all sexed up. She knew he would be looking fine as hell, how could he not? They were going to a place that required reservations, so she takes her time planning her date night look.

It’s been years since she’d cared about such a thing. Dates were casual and in most cases led to nothing after. There were jeans sure but there was also the occasion high heel thrown in the mix, the clipping in of a few wefts of hair, but as she stood in the bathroom and gathered all her things to prep and shave and scrub she remembered that this particular bit had never been fun. Bella wasn’t one to make a big fuss over body hair. Particularly at her age where her main opinion was if he doesn’t want hair on it, he’s too immature to eat it. But with a want to impress she found herself considering it. She shaved her legs and pits and trimmed the rest in the end. Maybe Declan would be into it? And shrugs at the thought and starts to wonder what sort of situation she’ll find on him.

With successfully not getting distracted and having to masturbate before the date thinking about him, unlike the past week where her toys had seen ample use, she now stands in front of her closet in the dress she’d picked out. Should she go for the fuck me pumps she’d splurged on years ago, thinking she would surely find an occasion to wear them, and she hadn’t much at all? Certainly not enough to warrant what she paid for them. But the bottoms matched her tight red dress and she decided she couldn’t pass it up.

Teased and polished she sways and looks at herself in the mirror, knowing another check of her bed would warrant nothing new. She’d cleaned and situated everything just so.

“Can you believe mama might be getting some tonight?” She asks Robbie.

He seems disinterested as he lays on his toy mouse on the corner of the bed.

“I sure as hell can’t.” She mutters, primping just for the hell of it, taking selfies and letting the Slow Jams Hard playlist fill the room.

Declan admittedly hadn’t put so much prep into his look. He was a very low maintenance kind of guy. Plus everything she’d ever complimented him on was covered, wavy hair and beard intact he only trims a little on his face for good measure. He trimmed a little below the belt as well, just as torn on the decision as Bella had been. Neither would have cared ironically. Bella was really into the natural look anyway.

He takes a cab, something that throws her off but shows her he plans on having some fun. And she would always be down for fun with Declan.

She peeps out of her window, strappy black heels ticking across the hardwood floor. “Fuck.” She whispers. God, he looked good. In a black button-up shirt that was tight in all the right places, a few undone at the top to reveal a charm necklace he looks positively edible to her. He cleaned up well, and she wasn’t normally a fan of dress clothes on men, but he’d changed her opinion on so many things already she shouldn’t be surprised. He still wore his big black boots, she could hear them heavy on the front porch, a jingle of a chain, a deep voice clearing his throat as a tingle ran down her spine.

She opens the door before he even knocks, being more than ready to see him face to face after being without him for days. She’d thought about him more the past week than she had in all the months of knowing him.

With his hand raised to knock, he forgets to lower it for a moment as she reveals herself. He felt underdressed despite the slacks and button-up shirt because next to her he thought he’d look downright sloppy.

“Hey...Bella..” a drawn-out and delayed greeting with eyes not meeting hers as he looked at her in her tight red dress. Just a hint of thigh, thin straps over her shoulders holding a chest that demanded he looked with its glimmer. Her skin gleamed as she moved but nothing compared to the smile he found on her face when he managed to drag his eyes up to hers.

“Hey yourself.” She gives him a cocky nod, getting the reaction she wanted out of him. And she better have, what with how much this lingerie had cost. She’d never spent so much on such little fabric before. But she was a fan of an indulgent purchase from time to time.

He turns and holds a finger up to the cab driver and moves inside to shut the door. “Can I tell you just how fuckin’ good you look without you slapping me?” He asks with glazed eyes and a smirk.

“I insist.” She purrs in response, her heels making her so much taller than before, standing up closer to his 6’ 4” daunting frame. He was a beast of a man but he could play civilized as she was seeing in his choices tonight.

“I’m glad we have reservations because otherwise, I might just tell that driver to fuck off.” He says with a slight laugh to his voice, hands moving to her bare upper arms and leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m not so glad about it.” She speaks softly back and gives him a playful tug at his bottom lip with her teeth. “Because you look so good in this, Declan.” Her voice breathy and, making his heart race. Her hands rub up against his chest, fingertips over the bare skin to his neck where she gives his beard a tug to bring him into another kiss. Round after round, the kisses could’ve gone on forever, but he wasn’t about to miss out on his hard attempts to woo her properly. Or at least what he thought she deserved.

He isn’t sure what he expected from her, but this sultry sort of behavior hadn’t been it. He’d been behaving himself, not sure where to put his hands at first, but when her fingers with their long nails snaked up the back of his neck, scratching into his scalp he moaned, a low chuckle against his lips. “That’s what I want to hear.” she smiles, looking up at him and his closed eyes. “You don’t have to be so well mannered Declan. We’re past that now, don’t you think?” she asks sweetly with naughty intentions with a tilt of her head, tongue giving his lips a little teasing lick. Man, was she feistier than he anticipated. But it only made him more eager to know more of this side of her.

“I didn’t wanna...insult you, ya’know? Didn’t want you to think that’s what this was all about.” he says with still closed eyes as she continues to scratch.

“You’re too sweet Declan.” she coos. “You don’t have to to worry about me dropping you for touching me. You’ve proven you’re not just around for a fuck. Besides... I really want you to touch me.”

With expressed permission, he forces his eyes open and looks down at her, a seductive portrait of a woman, and looking at him with long lashes and a wicked smile that told him everything else he needed to hear. “Good.” a deeper, more masculine voice and version of him emerges, no longer trying to withhold himself from her. Perhaps she was only hesitant before, and now that she felt she trusted him, all the walls that had been up that kept them from expressing just how much they wanted each other were now rubble, a clear attraction finally able to be confessed. “Because I’ve thought about touching you all week.” he adds before taking her for another deep kiss, big broad hands finally wrapping around her waist. She was so soft. Moving further down he gets handfuls of her ass, lifting her slightly which makes her let out another soft laugh into his mouth that he eagerly eats from her. The hard bars of her nipple piercings pressed through a thin bra up against his chest, just barely visible under the skin smoothing fabric.

“So have I.” she says, pulling away, hands to his cheeks now as she gives him one adoring look that makes him want her on more than a sexual level. How long had it been since a woman look at him like that? And a sober woman, with more than just a quick fuck on her mind. There would be nothing quick about his plans for her if he could help it. He wanted time with her, more and more the more he got. Any question he’d had about how the night would end was certainly answered for him now.

-------

Their hands gave away their want first. Walking her everywhere with one secure to her back as he moved, making sure no one nudged her or got in her way as they walked down the busy street and into the just as full restaurant. With a leather jacket over her dress, she still looked like she belonged in the most upscale place he’d possibly ever been. They were more than a few pay raises over the usual crowd from The Trading Post and she looked much more at ease than he did.

Bella had been in these sorts of places before. She certainly didn’t prefer them to places like Declan’s, but being best friends with a woman who married a businessman who was given a high position in one of the huge, mirrored window buildings that dotted the city skyline because of who his father was meant mixers, business parties and her and her new fancy friends wanting to sip skinny girl cosmo’s and talk about how hard it was to get their children into the best pre-school. Bella had nothing to really lend to these conversations. She’d gone to public school, so had her parents, and if she ever had a kid, it would go to public school as well. She wasn’t bred well, the daughter of an Irish hippie and a blue-collar Italian and had no illusions of being more. But despite the bad vibes from the picture-perfect women she had to stand with and nod politely for Charlotte’s sake, the buildings and food themselves were never that bad. So with the current company, someone else willing to slum it like she was, she wasn’t worried in the slightest about anyone else and what they thought in that bougie restaurant.

Declan for all his goofiness, was thorough when he wanted to be. Reserving a small U shaped booth near the back for some privacy and coziness, too close to the kitchen for most of the clientele she imagines. There was none of his usual almost clumsily loose body movements tonight, no big eye wrinkling grins, just a controlled and intense version of the sometimes puppy-like man she’d grown so fond of. She was unknowingly getting a glimpse at Black Wolf, the behavior that gave him the nickname. She watched him situate after settling her in, low brow over dark and questioning eyes, surveying the space.

“You didn’t have to bring me to a place like this you know.” she says with a soft and sweet tone, speaking low as he scooted right next to her, his arm around her and stretched across the back of the booth, taking up space and looking predatory.

“I know I didn’t have to.” his smile read more in his eyes than anything else now. His voice low and smooth and making the corners of her mouth slowly rise to give subtle approval to his words. “But I wanted to.” he leans in and nods.

“It’s really nice. Thank you.” she says with a polite bow of her head before crossing her legs towards him and patting his thigh. “Have you been here before?” she asks, looking over the market price only menu after sliding her jacket off, and of course, him lending assistance. With her highlighted shoulders now on display, his hand moves down to rest on her upper arms that were so close to showing definition she’d been momentarily angry they didn’t lean out before the date. But as his thumb swept across her buttery skin, slow drags of callouses from work, it was far from her mind.

“Nope.” the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leans in close to read with her as she brings the menu between them.

“Me either.” she admits. “Places like this but not here.”

“Doesn’t seem like your kind of haunt.”

“It’s not. I’ve gone with Charlotte and her fancy ass friends.” she dismisses with a shake of her head. “I bet the meat here is amazing.” she says quietly, looking for him to add on his interests but he’s distracted by the fluff of her curls against his nose as he smells that intoxicating blend of deep patchouli and warm, sweet vanilla that he’d never smelled anywhere but on her.

He grunts and she looks up to him with curious eyes. “You smell amazing, babe.” he admits with a deep coo that forces a wider smile across her face, her bold red lips looking even more inviting to him set in the welcoming pose.

She leans in closer to his chest, giving a strong inhale that makes him chuckle, seeing the expanse of his chest jiggle slightly with the massive pecs she wanted to bury her face in. “You smell absolutely edible.” she adds with an amused hunch of her shoulders.

“I’m not sure if that’s the case.” he grins, a softer face pulling through.

She narrows her eyes playfull, chomping her teeth at him in an audible snap that makes his more goofy grin appear. “Don’t tell me what to do.” she retorts with a flip of her hair and turning back to the menu.

He laughs a chest rumbling and moving sound that made her ego inflate. He leans in and kisses her temple, a reward for reminding him why he’d pursued her in the first place. “Not one for being bossed around, huh?” he asks almost innocently. The back of his mind couldn’t help but wonder if her preferences carried over into the bedroom.

“I mean..” she shrugs and smirks, snuggling up closer to him. “For the right man who knows what I’d be into.” she doesn’t meet his eyes but the smirk on her painted lips is enough to make him let out a low growling laugh and give her a good squeeze, another kiss to the head.

“I think I might want to try giving you some orders sometime.” he says into her ear with a clearly intentioned voice that does its job.

Her skin blooms with goosebumps and she hums happily, moving her face to his. “Oh you’re welcome to try anything, Declan.” she purrs and kisses him softly with a wrinkle of her nose.

“Then I will,” he says grazing his nose to hers. “Later.” he says with more authority in his voice as they share another tender kiss.

They order, and they don’t hold back, as per his instructions. Their bodies couldn’t have been closer, a large hand rested on her bare knee, slowly running down her legs and back up again with fingertips teasing the hem of her dress as he spoke. She kept touching his tender jaw, soft and lingering chaste kisses when she couldn’t stand it any longer. Her hands for the most part behaving, but sinking into his collar to his neck, playing with the chest hair with the revealing unbuttoned top of his shirt. She played with his rings and hands while he told stories, but still listening. He would brush her hair back, lean in so close she could feel his breath on her neck and ears before he spoke. There was spoken and unspoken tension that they both knew was building to a peak.

They both get the best steak, a bottle of wine and a dessert to share. Picking the messiest on purpose, Bella demands only one spoon, and let’s playtime continue. She feeds him tiny macarons with her precise fingers. Both taking turns, deciding on which sweet to try next. The underlying lust between them fueled everything they did with all the flirting and wine between them. Her full lips puckered against his large fingertips while he paused and let her playfully bite them as he hand-fed her. He kissed and licked away rouge splashes of cream and chocolate, taking it from her lips with a slow passing of his thumb to suck it into his own mouth. She was utterly mesmerized. On the last bites, taking her finger and wiping the fruit purée from the plate she sucks on her fingers, looking into his eyes, being bold and humming with sexual energy. He couldn’t help but feel and be charged by it.

“Lemme try some baby.” He speaks so low and deep she feels her body thrum like a guitar string deep between her legs when he spoke like that to her.

She repeats the action and he takes her finger into his mouth, and she’s worried her legs would no longer work when he tried to stand. That and her panties were definitely ruined by the forward action. Her lashes flutter and her cheeks flush, licking her lips as he grins seeing her face be so transparent. She takes a deep breath and a tiny little noise escapes her.

“What is it babe? You like that or something?” He teases, nose on her hair and words traveling directly from his lips to her ears. Every time he’d call her some sweet pet name her insides quivered. A gentle affection with intentions that were anything but.

She gathers herself before speaking, moving her face back to his, forcing eye contact to prove he hadn’t won yet. “It makes me wish the ride back home was a whole hell of a lot shorter.” Her lips and taut and speak with articulation, tongue flicking for dramatic effect and it all worked seamlessly. “I wanna take you home, Declan.” She coos, fluttering her lashes and rubbing her fingers down his neck. “Let me show you what I like.” She adds before pressing another kiss to his lips.

“There is nothing else I’m more interested in doing, sweetheart.”

——————-

They were like two hormonal teens in the back seat of that cab in the dark. Cozied up close and every touch feeling electric and sending signals to every amorous part of their brain and thus, body. Flirtatious giggles and their quietening with kisses turns hot quickly. Her hand on his neck and jaw, his rubbing up the outside of her thigh up to the swell of her hip, dragging the hem of her dress higher. If they weren’t kissing their faces stayed close with sweet whispers and affectionate nuzzles the whole ride home. The well-lit city fades to more spaced street lamps of residential areas and before they knew it they were back at Bella’s and both covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Thanks. And some extra for having to deal with us.” He chuckles and gives a nod to the driver. “Kept it strictly PG-13 don’t worry.” He grins and joins her in readjusting their clothes as they stand on the curb for a moment.

“C’mon handsome.” She says with a smile that was more happy than sexual, taking his hand and walking up to her door.

He puts his hands on her hips as she finds her keys in her purse and kisses the rounds of her shoulders. She was finding it very hard to concentrate. With hands almost Misbehaving and roaming up to just under her bra, they felt like they could wrap around her entire torso they were so big. Although that was far from factual, the fact that he was making her feel like something dainty that could be taken and overpowered had her nipples standing at full, sensitive attention from thought alone.

“Movin’ a little slow there baby.” He grins against the bend of her neck, lips hovering by her ear.

“You’re doing a very good job of distracting me.” She huffs out a laugh and finally gets the keys in and the door open. He hangs her coat first, then his as she enters the security codes. Lazily tossing her purse onto the small bench by the standing lamp in the hallway that went straight from the front door to the kitchen, it gives the perfect amount of ambient light to the living room. It illuminates the warm-toned, retro and southwestern style room just enough to be alluring but not be clumsy.

After the chain leaves her hands from her bag, his are back on her. Snaking around to her lower back and into her hair at the nape of her neck which gave her a thrill all the way down into her stomach. He meets her eyes, her face lit by the lamp but his shadowed, he looks over her expectant expression of slightly parted lips and doting eyes.

“Would you think less of me if I told you I was tired of taking it slow? ” She unexpectedly whispers as his thumb traces her bottom lip, getting an intimate look at her up close.

His eyes threaten to roll back in his head at her words, he could feel his pulse in his throat and lets out a low masculine grunt at her confession. He takes her face into both of his, entirely encapsulating it in his grasp. “I don’t intend on rushing with you baby. But I promise I won’t make you wait too long.” He promises in a rasping whisper before joining their mouths.

The kiss slips over chest and light, her arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hands control her body, moving it back towards the living room couch. With deep, probing turns that had their tongues wrapped around each other, escaping their mouths as one would have to stop to pant or moan. Their eyes are rolled back behind their lids, their hands desperate and now free to roam as they pleased. Hers sank into that glorious mane of his, the almost black roots like her hair color fading lighter from his time in the sun as they traveled down to his collar bones. Her fists balled into it, and with the feeling of finally giving in to something he’d wanted to do for longer than she liked to admit, she moans as she gives herself over to the pleasure of it.

Showing her impatience she pulls him to the couch, one finger into his belt loop to tug him her way, and it didn’t take any more than that to have him follow her. With a strong hand moving self assuredly down her backside to her thigh, hiking her leg up and causing her dress to shimmy up in the process, he grabbed her tightly and with his strong arms and long legs he lowered her onto the couch on her back.

Him not even making it to the bedroom wasn’t lost on her. She said she didn’t want to wait and he wasn’t going to make her. Her muscular thighs latch ahold of him, small desperate noises escaping her as his hands finally grabbed her with purpose like she’d been daydreaming about. With a growl and a firm hand to her ass, his kisses start to travel and she sighs out helplessly against him. Buried in her neck she feels the suck and bite of him against her, shutting her eyes and fully indulging in it, her back arching off the plush couch involuntarily.

Her hands move between them to reach down and run her hand over his growing length, biting her lip and snarling at the hardness she finds there pinned against her.

In response, he bites the fullness of her breast over her dress and makes her let out a breathy chuckle. He kisses his way across her bare skin, nipping at her piercings that were now pushed prominently against the strained fabric. “Ugh, these are so fuckin sexy baby.” He noses against the bump of bar. “These, the tattoos...so fuckin’ sexy.” He groans and takes a big mouthful into his mouth.

“I like yours too ba- Oh!” She squeaks as his phone starts to vibrate against her in his pocket. With a shared laugh, he takes it out and silences it, putting it on the coffee table and moving back to kissing her. “Thought you’d bought some toys to the party.” She giggles as he kisses her cheeks and the sides of her mouth while she nuzzles against him. “Although I’m certain you won’t need them.” She purrs and reaches down to grab him gently, fingertips tapping and dragging over him sensitive length.

He grunts and starts in on her jaw, a muffled “Nuh uh.” A shake of his head against her, working back down to her chest again. His hand had worked its way under her dress, which was now around her waist revealing the black and mesh thong that makes him drag his tongue across the swells of her breasts to her mouth again. “Fuck Bella.” He exhales softly, looking down at her soft and thick thighs. A perfectly framed, chubby mound grabs his attention, proving every bit of her was soft, so he does the same to it. His hand cupping over her entirely, fingers feeling between her thighs and finding her already wet through her panties, cueing another deep, drawn-out “Fuuuuck.” as he rubs over her, propped up on one arm and sucking away at her neck as she lets him explore her body.

His phone buzzes again, the call goes unanswered and barely noticed with their noisy kisses and moans, her unbuttoning his shirt and him pulling the front of her dress down. Her hands are working on his belt, fumbling with the buttons. as he broadly licks over the mesh cups on her bra. They were in their own little bubble again, hands harsh and needy, kisses hard and biting. And his phone buzzes a third time.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who wants a piece of you tonight.” She jokes, kissing his ears, voice extra breathy in his ear as she takes his earlobe into her mouth.

“Well fuck ‘em.” He mumbles and she exhales an amused sound into his ear before taking a nibble. He retakes her mouth with his into a messy kiss with a hard grip to her thigh and she hums contently in his embrace. He shifts, hard cock herring against her middle with pants undone, her with her dress around her waist and his weight grinding into her making her swear and bury her hands in his hair again with a tight grip. But then the phone rings again.

With a pause from them both, Declan lets out a rugged sigh.

“Go ahead.” She says sweetly, understanding the cause for stopping for a moment.

“Shit.” He groans, running his hand through his hair. “It’s Mike.” He knew Mike wouldn’t interrupt him on this night, of all nights for no reason. “Baby I’m afraid I need to-“

“Take it babe.” She insists with a shake of her head, snuggling into the couch and her hands going back to roaming over him. A sneaking under the band of his boxers over his muscular ass, a hand running over his chest and into his hair where she began kissing as he spoke.

“Mike you better be dead you asshole to be calling me.” He growls out, face stern and intense as he stares into the darkness of the room to concentrate.

Bella continues on under him, rubbing her hips against his, palming him over his tight and now wet boxers with a serene face and bitten lip. The usual questions follow, who, why, when. But she knows the gig is up when he lets out a loud and annoyed sigh and buried his face in her chest, hair covering his face. “Fuck you man, yeah.” He forces out angrily. “Shut up I’ll be there.” He says hanging up on him and putting the phone back on the table. He sighs and touches her cheek, hips subtly moving with her still moving against him.

“You have to go don’t you?” She whispers as he runs his thumb across her lips.

“Yeah, baby I’m-fuck I don’t want to.” He lets out a frustrated laugh. “Some asshole is fucking up the bar and asking for me.”

“Your reputation precedes you.” She grins and gives him a soft and slow kiss they both allow themselves to get lost in for a minute.

“I hate this shit. I try to stay out of this bullshit and-“ She pulls his face down into a hard kiss and he moans into it.

“I get it. I fucking hate it but I get it. When you’re the boss these things happen. I know.” She says with a graze of her nose to his.

“You’re too good to me baby girl.” He says with a disheartened sigh and another lippy kiss with her center throbbing at the pet name. He pulls back and she watches him move, making no move herself to hide or change position, her hand only trailing between her legs to find the, even impressive to her, wetness that had seeped through the panties.

“You’ll be good to me later.” She winks and sticks out her tongue. He looked her over, biting his lip and latched his pants back up.

“I’ll be the best to you later baby. I swear.” He says leaning over and taking her foot and kissing her ankle, then her calf, leaning in for another kiss to the lips. “God damn it’s hard to leave you looking like this.”

“You left me plenty wet for me to have some fun without you. I won’t be happy but I’ll live. I’ll be pretending it’s you anyway. Will you think of me later baby?” She playfully licks his lips as he raises again to separate himself, finding it hard enough watching her with her tits almost out, dress pulled away, her red nails rubbing circles over her panties, sinking into the glistening wet and softness.

“Every fucking minute until we’re back like this.” He groans.

“You go take care of business, boss.” She orders with pouty lips and a deeper turn of voice. “You ring him up by his fuckin neck for me baby.” She smiles wickedly and he takes a deep breath and exhales towards the ceiling.

“Fuck you are….well you might just be fucking perfect. Fuck.” He groans and mumbles.

“You’ll find out soon.” She whispers, hand disappearing down her panties.

“Fuck yes I will.” He says stalking with a still hard cock straining against his pants. “And I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t be more sorry.” He says with his hand on the doorknob.

“I know big guy.” She grins and moans. “You know where to find me.” She giggles, running a hand through her hair.

“Night baby.”

“Night.”

—————-

The number of people outside the bar told him something was wrong. Normally, when someone was raising hell no one would look twice, it happened, it was a bar. But as he stepped out of the cab, his impressive stature primed and ready for a fight, the men parted to let him through, their rubbernecking ceasing for a moment. He slung the door open with a loud and carnal growl, it slamming against the rubber stopper and bouncing, taking the attention of the man causing the trouble. He knew him or knew his brother anyway. Another abusive piece of shit he’d beaten up months ago because he’d hit one of his friends in front of her kid. Declan didn’t stand for that shit. He’d gone to jail recently, and he’s guessing this poor drunk bastard was acting out and looking for someone to blame. Well, he’d found him.

“There’s the mother fucker!” the guy drunkenly yells.

Once Declan sees who it is, no longer worried about a fight, he looks around to the damage done. Mike wasn’t joking. An end of the bar was still on fire, taps searing red hot and all the stools broken, a few booths had been knifed and gutted, a neon sign smashed, it was enough to make Declan want to wreck the guy, but he’d already fucked with him on the wrong night.

Throwing his jacket off he charges like a bull to the guy, ignoring the knife in his hand and putting one hand around his neck, and picking him up off her feet and slamming him into a wall. Hard. The other hand takes the knife while the guy was caught off guard and pushes it into his cheek, enough to let him know he was serious.

“You picked the wrong night to come fuck with me you little shit.” he barks in his face, spit flying as he growled from his gut, all his frustration into the guys face.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ keeeeel you, you mother fuck-” he begins but Declan squeezes his throat and he chokes, knocking his head against the wall again.

“You think you are? You stupid piece of shit?” he takes him and throws him into a table, stalking over him, leaning and looking while he struggled. “Is this what you wanted? Me to kick your fucking ass, huh?” he shouts, kicking him lightly with his boot. “Because I could fucking KEEEL you for coming in here. Fucking with MY shit. Ruining MY night with my girl? Fuck you!” he yells, giving him a kick to the ribs.

“Declan. Slow down.” Mike warms while trying to put out the fire.

“So I beat the shit out your brother? So what? He’s trash just like you. You wanna send the rest of the family down? I’ll kick their asses too.” he growls and stands over him now holding him by the shirt.

“HE went to jail because of you!” he drunkenly slurs.

“No. He went to jail because he’s a fuckin’ idiot who can’t keep his god damn mouth shut. Must run in the family huh?” he snarks, slapping the guy across the face.

“If you hadn’t-”

“If I hadn’t he would’ve kept beating Sasha and that kid would’ve seen it and had to live with that. You might not care, but I do. And your brother deserves whatever he gets, same as you. Now c’mere.” he yanks him up, the guy's feet not even on the ground as he holds him to his face. “Now you can get the fuck out of here, or I can put your name on the fuck ton of paperwork this is gonna take to get the damage your little fuckin tantrum has caused and your ass will have to pay for it. And we’ll have to go to court, and you’ll have to pay for that and get a lawyer. So what’s it gonna be? You get the fuck out and stay the fuck away from me and mine? Or do I need to make you disappear?” he threatens with a low threat. He knew he could if he wanted. He’d done it before, he’d, unfortunately, have to do it again, he was sure.

“I’ll go-fuck-Jesus.” he sputters out of a bloody mouth.

Declan carries him like a battering ram and throws him onto the sidewalk. “You gonna come for me you best not miss mother fucker.” he says giving him one last kick to the ass and knocking him down again.

Declan whips back his hair, running a hand through it and letting out a sound of frustration, blood pumping fast and fingers tingling with anger.

“Get back in boys, before you start calling attention to us.” he calls out, stomping back inside. He slams his hand down on the non-burnt end of the bar. “Give me a fucking drink!” he shouts and Mike obeys, handing him an entire bottle of whiskey. He takes large gulps and closes it back. “God damnit.” he growls again, still angry, the burn in his throat fitting for how he felt.

“Yeah this is-”

“A fucking mess.” he says with his eyes shut. “And a week before the fucking show.”

“And on date night.” Mike mumble which he was the sorriest for. “Didn’t mean to interrupt ya mate.” His eyes lowered he throws a hand towel to Declan who is covered in smudges of red lipstick.

“YEAH! THAT TOO!” he yells and groans. “What?” He wrinkles his nose at the offering.

“Ya got a bit a-“ Mike motions to Declan’s neck as he turns to see the polka-dotted lip prints across his skin.

“Fuck.” he roars out in frustration, thinking about having to leave in the middle of the act of those prints being left. “Fuckin’ bullshit. Stupid mother fuckers. Goddamned idiot-” he mumbles walking into the back to get the folder for the insurance information.

Mike sighs and purses his lips. There wasn’t any way he could turn this to make it better. So he just let Declan boil until it all evaporated and went down to a simmer. Because a furious Declan wasn’t something you wanted to be in the sights of. Even if he wasn’t coming for you.

-----

Bella, not having heard from Declan becomes slightly worried amid her horniness. She takes pictures of herself, dimly lit room and not a stitch on.

When a lackluster response of “You’re killing me baby.” With radio silence afterward she goes to sleep mildly concerned.

A call to the bar just rang unanswered, and she didn’t have Mike’s number so she does the next sensible thing and goes to the bar after work.

She stands in the doorway with wide eyes. Men with clipboards and hard hats carrying out chunks of the bar and booths, and little Mike sweeping and looking rather forlorn.

“What the fuck happened?” she says with a frowning face as she steps aside for a man to get through the door.

“Oh hell, Hi Bella.” Mike says with a sympathetic looking nod. “The reason I had to call and interrupt last night happened. Sorry ‘bout that by the way.” he shrugs.

“Looks like you had a good reason.” she says with a hand running through her hair.

An exhausted looking Declan comes out the back room, hair tied back and in worn and dirty jeans and t-shirt. “Oh fuck.” he sighs out and rubs his face. “I still hadn’t called you back. Shit.” he groans and walks towards her, reaching out and giving her a hug. “I’m gross but-”

“Shut up. Are you okay?” she asks, patting him down with her hands and then holding his face.

“I’m fine.” he dismisses her worry. “But the bar…” he sighs.

“Yeah. Fuck dude.” she answers, still looking him over, putting loose strands behind his ears as she looks around the bar. “You sure you’re okay? No offense but you look rough.” she says with a kind, soft laugh, her thumbs rubbing over his cheeks as the softness makes the tension in his neck ease.

His shoulders slump and he finally focuses on her and her worried expression. “C’mere.” he says, taking her hand and leading her into the back, behind a door that led to a flight of stairs and a door with lots of stickers and banners on it.

“What’s?” she asks before he opens it, revealing a studio apartment. “Whaaa?” she says surprised.

“You didn’t know?” he chuckles, shutting the door and moving to wrap his arms around her.

“No I didn’t know this was here.” she laughs, feeling a bit dumb. “I didn’t wanna be nosey.” she shrugs.

“Well this is my apartment.” he says with a nonchalant shrug. The space wasn’t huge, but not small, all exposed brick and wood and industrial looking. It felt old, the wood worn and haggard, two walls to block off a bedroom, a bar for seating in the kitchen, a bathroom tucked away in the corner. It felt very him to be so bare bones.

“I like it. Very... rustic.” she says before he takes her face and kisses her. “Mmph. Oh okay.” she mutters into it and giggles, moving to wrap her arms around him and kiss him back. After a few rounds that were for comfort more than anything he parts, his forehead to hers.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call you back.”

“Well, you’ve clearly been busy.” she says supportively.

“So fucking busy. No excuse. I’m sorry, okay?” he insists and she kisses him softly.

“Forgiven.” she says with a smile, reaching to give him a hug. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your plate.” she insists, rubbing his back. How had he gone without this sort of comfort for so long? He grunts into it and she smiles, nuzzling into his hair and kissing his head. “You’re exhausted. Have you slept?” she pulls away and strokes his face.

“Not really.”

“That’s what I thought.” she nods. “Can I help?”

“You are helping.” he sighs out.

“Good.” she smiles and kisses his temples. They stay like that for a moment, her rubbing on him, easing the pain in his joints and muscles with the moment of recharge she was giving him. “Shit. What about the-?” she blurts out.

“Show. I know.” he shakes his head and groans. “I got the paperwork started last night for the insurance, then called these guys first thing this morning. We’ve been surveying and taking pictures and all that shit all day, so we’re getting out all the damaged stuff now. Insurance will be here in a few days, so that’s good. But the taps are destroyed, so’s the register and some of the stock. I can replace the booths and stools and shit no problem but the other things take time.”

“Do I need to cancel my stuff then?” referring to the walkthroughs she had scheduled for later in the week to set up the sound and lights.

“Nah. It should be fine. I’m helping the guys out, I’m a workhorse. We can drive out and get some shit from the supplier ourselves, it’ll be faster. I think we can manage.”

“You’re gonna be exhausted.” she responds with a pout of her lips, already seeing it on his face.

“Yeah but...gotta be done.”

“I can reschedule.” she insists.

“No, no. You’ve worked hard on it. I’m not gonna start this off with backing out. Don’t wanna jinx it like that.”

“It’s your call, babe.” she says with a supportive, soft smile.

“And it’s still on. It’ll be a shit week but by the end, it should be worth it. And if this works out then that money will be much needed to cover everything until the insurance comes through.”

“What’re you gonna do about the taps and everything? The POS?”

“A register is easy. The taps harder but doable.” he shrugs.

“Well, you could take this opportunity to upgrade a few things?” she says cautiously, not wanting to offend. “It’d cost more and I don’t wanna be nosey about your finances but a few upgrades could really give you an edge.” she offers with a face that was hesitant but honest.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean get some taps installed, some temperature regulated ones, keeps the head just right. A one-touch POS that you could program everything into, wouldn’t have to remember prices. WOuld really help with the temps. You get a report at the end of every day, you can manage everything from a computer. If you get volume in here it’ll really help you out. And if I have anything to do with it, you will.” she nudges her nose to his and he smiles down at her.

“You’re brilliant but I have no clue how to even go about that.” he chuckles in self-defeat.

“Lucky for you, you know a girl who does.” she beamed at him.

“I am lucky. You know that?” he hums and leans in and kisses her.

“Stop being so sweet I don’t know how to act.” she lets out a laugh that shook her shoulders.

“Get used to it.” he huffs out and kisses her again, squeezing her around the ribs. “How about you come down and talk to the guys? Before they tear too much up.” he grins.

“No problem.” she says cheerfully. “I’ll text my bar guys for prices and time frames and all that.” she says getting out her phone.

“Bar guys?” he says with a playfully territorial smirk.

“Oh yeah, I just collect you all. Didn’t you know?” she laughs.

“I did not!”

“They’re owners from when I used to travel and do shows and stuff. Some have done well for themselves over the years. I helped them with the manual labor to get some air time in the beginning.”

“After all this is over I’ve got some manual labor I’ll be needing you to do.” he gives her a goofy grin and she lets out that giggle he loves as he bites on her neck and growls, a handful of her ass in her tight jeans, the rough turning quickly to loud smooches to show his gratitude for her.

“I’d say so. You’ll owe me BIG time big boy.” she boops his nose and he smiles like a dope. “I’ll take my payment in installments over a long period of time if you don’t mind.” she snorts and his eyes turn to hearts as she lets herself go around him, her jokes being a way for her to be sweet without the vulnerability.

“No lump sum for you.” he shakes his head. “How long of a payment plan we talkin’?” he asks with a kiss to her cheek.

“I don’t know…” she pouts her lips in thought dramatically. “Depends on you doesn’t it?” she sass’s back.

“I have excellent credit I’ll have you know.” he retorts and she laughs and puts her head into his chest.

“I thought we were talking about something else entirely. Unless excellent credit is what you call your dick.” she holds in a laugh with a wrinkle of her nose, her front teeth showing as she hunches her shoulders.

“Nah that’s old faithful.”

“Also a good indicator of regularly scheduled payments being made!” she says with a beaming smile and a tilt of her head.

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.” he lets out a rolling laugh and gives her a good solid squeeze and kiss while they grin against each other. “C’mon. Work first. Then play.”

“Agreed.” she chirps and pulls him in for one last kiss before they return back to the world of professionalism.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking@jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag

#Declan Harp #declan harp x reader #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fic #declan harp fan fiction #declan harp frontier #jason momoa #frontier au #modern declan harp #modern frontier #declan harp au #declan harp x ofc #frontier fic #frontier fanfic #jason momoa frontier #frontier fandom #frontier fan fiction #frontier fan fic

[masculinetransman]

Transiversary

Hey so todays my transiversary. That doesnt sound like much. What it means is that its been 2 years to the day since I got my haircut.

Ive known I was a boy since I was 10 years old. I used to look in the mirror and go "I wonder what I would have looked like if I were born a boy" I used to ask myself "Are you a girl" and every time I would answer "no"

At age 10 I felt so scared to tell somebody how I truely felt that I didnt. I hated myself for thinking I was a boy. I knew boys could be girls (aka transwoman from a transphobic 10 year olds perspective) but I didnt know the other way around was possible.

I didnt tell anyone. I thought theyd tell me I was doing it for attention and that I cant be a boy.

I repressed it.

I repressed it for 2 more years.

I started going through puberty and absolutely hated it.

When I was twelve I thought I was bisexual.

I hated myself so much. I was homophobic and couldnt stand the fact I liked girls.

At 13 I came out to my friend as bisexual. It was the most nerve wracking thing. It got worse when she told me she already knew.

She came out to me as bi the same day.

At 13 I decided to think about those feelings I had when I was 10. I did some research. All that repressed feelings I had.

I started presenting as male and wearing mens clothing. I didnt pass at all. At all.

I came out to my best friend over text while sitting in an air port. Ive never been more scared in my life.

At 14 I moved families. I left all my friends behind and started high school.

I identified fully male there.

Completely 100% male.

Everyone there accepts me.

At 14 I walked into the hair salon with my mom. She told me the shortest I could cut it was to my chin.

It was October 27th 2016

The hair stylist looked at my hair. Told my mom it was so damaged that she had to cut it all the way.

I sent a picture to my friend. He told me I looked like a lesbian.

I didnt care it was the happiest day of my life.

A month later I was talking to my grandparents about how I wanted to dye my hair blue. The threatened to disown me. I did it in spite.

I turned 15. I passed full time and owned 2 binders. I wasnt out to my family.

Im 16 now. Im out to my family. Ive been rejected just like I thought I would when I was ten.

I own three binders. Pass full time. Run a GSA and am a major activist for trans rights.

Todays my transiversary.

Ive known I was a boy for 6 years

I accepted it 3 years ago

2 years ago I got my hair cut

2 weeks ago I came out to my mom

Today is my transiversary

I am proud of myself

#lgbtpride #trans #transboy #transgender #transguy #transmed #truscum please interact #truscum vs tucute #truscum uwu #truscum #tucutes please interact #tucutes #transmed vs tucute #tucute #lgbti #lgbtqa #lgbt #lgbtq #transgender rights #pre op ftm #pre t ftm #ftm #transiversary

[dollarstorethomasjefferson]

omg ok so i wanna share a story about a guy i met on reddit its a short story and has no ending, so its more of a vent

So i was on reddit not too long ago and I was struggling with my brain being a douche and my mom fueling the flames, so I made a vent post on an FtM sub asking for advice on what to do, and of course everyone was super supportive and calmed me down..

However, support isn't always given to me in the way that is appropriate, as shown by a guy that I'll call Tony.

Tony DMed me on Reddit and said "Hey, it'll get better." Of course, since I was going through a rough time that day, I was flattered that someone found the need to message me and comfort me.

I said thank you to Tony and told him that his message meant a lot to me, because tbh it did, and then we started talking a bit.

He told me his name, his pronouns, that he was 17, and that he was gay. In return, I did the same. "Henri, He/Him, 14, bi." Y'know.. the standard get-to-know-you message.

I don't mind talking to people older than me most of the time, but for some reason I got a weird feeling about Tony and I didn't know why.

Tony asked me if I was on HRT, and I said no because of my age. Since he found me from a trans subreddit, I assumed he was trans too and asked him the same question, to which he replied "no, I'm a cis ally :("

Now don't get me wrong, cis allies are amazing and I love them more than life itself... but it struck me as a red flag that this specific person was messaging me and trying to get to know me.

I apologized for the question because it was rude to assume someone is trans just because they are on a trans subreddit, but he said it was ok.

He asked for my Discord immediately after, even though we hadn't even been talking for 30 minutes. I was caught off guard and got a bit nervous. I did not have a good feeling about Tony and this was only making things worse.

After a couple minutes of me thinking things through, I went to my Discord, changed the settings so that every image will be scanned for explicit content no matter the sender, and then gave him my ID.

He sent me a friend request and I accepted, y'know.. as you do.. and not 2 minutes after he asked me for a selfie so he could "trust me."

I was very tempted to block him at that second, because asking a kid you literally just met online over reddit for a selfie is a bit suspicious... but I decided to give him a chance and sent him a selfie, but demanded he send one back.

Now this is where I got very nervous, because I didn't know what I was about to see. Did I make a mistake? Should I block him?

He took a couple minutes until he responded again. He started off with "wait.. you're super handsome." and sent his own selfie. He looked exactly how I imagined him. Tall, skinny, white, tbh he just looked like your average white teenage boy.

I said thanks and told him he was cool too, and then tried to change the subject.

I don't mind people complimenting me, don't get me wrong.. but once again that weird feeling I had about him was just getting worse.

We talked a bit more and he asked if I was out to anyone, to which I replied "yes, my friends and family all know I'm bi, but only my parents and grandma know I'm trans. Are you out?"

I was just trying to have a conversation, like you would when talking to someone, but he seemed a lot more interested in talking about me than holding a steady conversation.

I stopped texting so I could do some school, but about an hour later when I checked my discord again, I got a message from him asking what I was wearing.

Now I was a uncomfortable. I was wearing shorts and my binder at the time, so I was pretty exposed. I didn't tell him the truth. Instead, I said "a tshirt and basketball shorts. The usual. are you on virtual or physical school?"

He quickly responded saying "virtual" and then changed the subject back to by clothes by asking for another selfie.

I didn't respond, which (for some reason) prompted him to send more messages begging to see a picture of me again.

I told him I was uncomfortable with sending another selfie because I had my hair down which makes me dysphoric (truth) and also that I was only comfortable sharing that one picture of myself from earlier (truth)

He wouldn't take no for an answer.

Pleading, he send me message after message saying things like, "but youre so handsomeee." "youre the prettiest boy ive ever seen🥺" "come onnn I won't judge you. We're friends :)"

At this point I was thoroughly disturbed. I put my foot down and told him "Bro I'm barely 15 ://" I then asked him how he found my reddit account, because now I was getting suspicious that he may have found me from a different sub rather than the trans sub I had just posted on.

He was confused and told me the FtM sub. I apologized and told him I was paranoid.

He then told me to "show myself" and said "pleaseeee" over and over.

I said no.

At this point our "conversation" was dying out.

It was obvious that I wasn't going to bow down to him and he was beginning to see that I was not going to be his little toy by sending him pictures whenever he asks.

I'm not stupid.

Eventually he said "well just know there's no such thing as ugly. You're handsome af so don't be shy."

I said thanks and that it meant a lot to me (lie) then he stopped messaging me.

Now.. I don't know what his deal was. He was apparently 17, conveniently still a minor, cis, and lurking on trans subreddits. I checked his profile on reddit before giving him my discord and saw he never commented on anything ever, never posted, and has had his account for a couple years. That should've been a red flag, but I wanted to give him a chance.

I don't know if he was a chaser or just needed a friend, but either way I didn't want to be part of *that.*

Moral of the story? If you're in a vulnerable state of mind, don't send strangers on the internet selfies of you because they might beg you for more which will give you an anxiety attack while you are trying to write a paper on George Washington.

#hhh #discord #idk what to tag this #i know theres a tw for this but idk what it is #the audacity #vent post

[rilenerocks]

Hi Michael. It’s that time of year again. That time you always hated when I was so, so very hot and sweaty and thus, always had the air conditioning turned down, the overhead fan turned to high and the small floor fan churning away all night long. Like living in a wind tunnel, you’d say. I’m sure you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to learn that nothing’s changed. I climb into our bed, each night, still on my side, yours untouched, with the dull roar of all my cooling machines as my companions. The thin sheet quivers in the breeze. You’d hate it. I’m physically comfortable and I lie there, thinking. Look at this headline from an article I read this evening.

Scientists Have ‘Woken Up’ Microbes Trapped Under The Seafloor For 100 Million Years

I mean, really? While I was trying to wrap my mind around the impossibility of those numbers and the subsequent life options they revealed, I suddenly hoped that meant we had a chance of reuniting somewhere in this mystifying universe. Certainly our collective and relatively young microbes have just as good a chance at survival as those ancient ones. I’m positive that your microbes are all over our house, our garden and in the few personal items of yours which I’ve stashed away. There might be a few hairs in your brush. I wouldn’t care which version of us we’d be, young or old. Ish.

So then I was thinking about all the tiny details of life I’d normally tell you every day when you were still here in the flesh. I mean, I like your constant cosmic presence, but I usually turn to that with just the most important stuff. I’ve been dying to share with you all these strange little nothing thoughts that cross my mind. Mostly, no one has ever been able to put up with the endless stream of seemingly random, disconnected thoughts that pour out of me. My sister, Cheryl is probably the next best listener after you. As my younger sibling, she was well trained in the absorption of my peculiar brain workings. I’m lucky she’s still here. But there’s just nothing like you for that bottomless reservoir of acceptance which  you provided for me. Isn’t it ironic that we both know you’d be appalled by me releasing all this private information into the faceless universe? I mean, I know some people who read my blog but mostly, they’re strangers. Honestly, except for a few private spaces in myself that defy language, most of the rest is just irrelevant in the long run. What impact do our little quirky selves have? I know you’d disagree but I need to survive now, in my own way. So here are a few random thoughts that beset me as I lie in our bedroom, my favorite space, while my mind wanders in the wee hours after I’m done reading, wishing I could talk to you above the whir of the fan blades spinning around me.

You’re the only person who knew that while I was listening to WLS radio during my pubescent and teen years in Chicago, I wasn’t just a rock and roll/rhythm and blues kid. I also liked gospel, jazz and classical music. I still remember that when you were working at the Record Service, you kept track of my favorites and made sure I always those albums in my stash. And then, you updated them to CD’s so I didn’t have to wear out my vinyl. I’m still listening to lots of different genres every day. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through this bizarre pandemic time without it.

Here’s another weird thing I’ve noticed lately. I don’t watch much television during the day. I turn it on for a few minutes when I get up in the morning, mostly a defensive move to make sure nothing impossibly earth-shattering happened overnight. That’s how things are right now – every day seems to bring a story that’s incomprehensible. Today the story was that after the worst economic quarter ever reported since they started measuring these things, Trump suggested that perhaps we shouldn’t hold an election this fall. This guy will sling any idea that he thinks will get him a second term. As an historian, you just wouldn’t believe how this country has devolved since you’ve been gone. Anyway. When evening rolls around, I’m tired from being outside most of the day. After dinner, I watch the news and then scroll through the tv guide, looking for anything that might distract me, amuse me or otherwise edify me in some way. Lately, I’ve realized that virtually every day, The Godfather, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or Gladiator is playing. Often they’re on at the same time, while other times, they’re staggered. It’s so peculiar. Usually I watch bits of all of them. By the end of the week I’ve seen them in their entirety, albeit out of order. I’ll also pause for Sense and Sensibility, The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice or any Errol Flynn movie. Makes me laugh. If you were here, you’d be doing the same thing with The American President, To Have and to Have Not, You’ve Got Mail or The Maltese Falcon. Also Goodfellas, A Bronx Tale, or Stand by Me. I’m working my way through a decent number of tv series that I missed when we were too busy to watch them. But recently, I’m needing revolution. I’ve got “Z” and Battle of Algiers on my DVR. I probably don’t need to get more cranked up than I am these days, but I guess that’s too bad. Watching them anyway. I wonder how any new shows will be made for the fall? Better not go down that rabbit hole. They’re probably not going to happen.  

I want you to know that in your honor, I have loyally kept up with a smaller version of your food garden. Not just the perennial herbs that still marvelously appear and make me feel that it’s you who’s emerging through our rich dirt. That’s kind of absurd because your ashes are sitting in a beautiful box in the house waiting to some day being mingled with mine. Then we can be in the garden together. That aside, I’ve also been diligently planting and nurturing the annual herbs and vegetables, although at the moment, I’m losing the vegetable battle with the squirrels and rabbits. I’ve managed to get about two dozen cherry tomatoes off the vines while I try to ignore the smushed ones on the ground with one bite mark taken before abandonment. All the low-hanging large tomatoes have been filched along with the green peppers. I’m holding out hope for ones that are a little higher on the vines.

I’m really missing your cooking, though. Yesterday, I started ferreting around your recipe folders and dug out the one for pesto which, by the way,  wasn’t labeled. I’m going to make it. I don’t have as much basil as you would plant so I don’t expect to be spooning the mixture into ice cube trays that we could pop out of the freezer for pastas and pizzas. But I’m going to get it done. You really spoiled me. The good news is that I knew it and let you know. So there’s that.

Meanwhile, I’m being really mindful about enjoying every bloom in my flower world. I wait impatiently to make sure that my perennials return and get so happy when they show up. Then I try not to get sad because soon they’ll be gone. That’s something I have to work on – if I’ve learned anything, I know I need to stay in the present. So I’m out there a lot, with the butterflies and the birds, chasing them around with my phone to get good photos that I hope will be comforting in what I expect will be a socially distanced winter.  

Regarding the birds. So far, since spring, there’ve been 50 species in the yard. I don’t know if you’d recall that I started drawing them and filing them in a binder called The Yardbirds. I know you’d get the music reference. Anyway, my renderings are improving. If I practice, I’ll get better. Here are a couple of my recent ones.

I’m really happy that I’ve created a great bird habitat in the yard. I’m learning a lot about their behavior. I love watching the hummingbirds and the house wrens. Tiny, but mighty. I’ve grown fond of catbirds which are showing up regularly at the feeders. They’re perky and curious and pretty brave.

I’ve done something pretty dumb, as getting attached to wild animals doesn’t bode well for a happy emotional outcome. But I’m very fond of the cardinal pair that lives here year-round. After a rousing rescue of one of their fledglings last week, I felt so familial with them that I decided to name the strikingly beautiful female who comes for here daily for a dip in the birdbath. I’m calling her Pumpkin. Now, how absurd is that? I like her boyfriend too.

Another thing I did after a good deal of thought was sell your beloved bike. That was hard for me. I know it was just a thing but you loved it so much. I heard your voice in my head saying, “don’t be ridiculous – it’s just sitting there being wasted. Get yourself some extra cash.” So I did. But I took photos first. All these things I have to do. When I lie in bed in the night, I think about how much easier it is to share the loads of life. I miss that a lot although I’m glad I have what it takes to manage on my own. I think back to my mom after my dad died. By the time she was my age, she’d been dependent on me for almost 5 years. Makes me shudder.

How could I not tell you this most important thing? Our daughter, who went from working remotely to having to appear in person in a closed courtroom, found out the other day that a court clerk had tested positive for Covid19. She was asked to leave her office, get tested and do another 14 day quarantine. Then the judge in charge pf hearing her cases tested positive as well. Ugh. That meant that all the rest of our little family bubble had to be tested too. So far, she and our son got negative results. Our son-in-law, both grandsons and I await our results. I hope we’re all negative and can resume our little intimate enclave. The months ahead look daunting to me. The virus is traversing the country at will with no definitive treatments or vaccines. I dread flu season adding to the complexity of everything. Feels positively medieval.

  In other news, I got an email from the park district informing us that the indoor pool was reopening immediately. The list of precautions and requirements is very long and detailed. I read it carefully while keenly aware of my longing to get back to swimming. In the end, I’ve decided against it. I just don’t think being in an indoor facility shared with high school students can be safe enough for someone like me, a member of what I call the “death group.” So I’ll just have to know that a block and a half from our house, people will be paddling away while I won’t. This adult decision-making of risk vs. reward is overrated.

In other news, I actually wish I was more like my mom in her widowhood. She used to talk a lot about how all she wished she could do was hold my dad’s hand one more time. Lucky her. I remain deeply interested in resuming our intimate life for another 30 years or so. I hope if this reaches you, you’ll be glad to know that some of our best things are strong enough to survive death.

So that’s all for tonight. By the way, I thought you should know that I just restlessly flipped on the television. There is Gladiator in the midst of the re-creation of the battle of Carthage. Round and round it goes, my dearest boy. Until next time.

A Message from the Wind Tunnel Hi Michael. It’s that time of year again. That time you always hated when I was so, so very hot and sweaty and thus, always had the air conditioning turned down, the overhead fan turned to high and the small floor fan churning away all night long.

[halo-of-honey]

Concrete Jungle

Daveed Diggs x Original Fem. Character

Synopsis: Emerson O'Connor has always dreamed of playing in a Broadway pit orchestra. After fleeing Boston to move back home to New York, she is approached by Lin and her whole world changes. But moving to a new city to get away from her past may not be as simple as she originally hoped.

Notes: I guess this chapter is a little longer than the others. Happy reading!

[[ Read on AO3! ]]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Chapter Three: Clawfoot Tub

The next day after my mom and her boyfriend Tim left for work, I started practicing the score. At lunch, I took a break and weighed my options yet again. While I sat eating some crackers and cheese (the only thing I could find in my section of the pantry) and drinking water, I checked my phone. There was a message from Lin.

- Have you texted Daveed yet?

I made a face at my phone.

- No, not yet. I’ve been busy practicing

I sent a picture of my practice space, which included my cello, a music stand, and a disheveled heap that had been the score. I had taken it out of the binder to make photocopies so I could work through it with my own notes. Lin responded a few minutes later.

- I really think you should. I think it would be a REALLY good idea

I fidgeted, getting up to pace my room. I knew I could trust Lin. Or at least I thought I could. He seemed like a very trustworthy person, someone I could look up to. Someone I could turn to for advice. If he thought Daveed’s place was the best option, maybe I needed to listen to him. He hadn’t steered me wrong so far.

- Okay fine...

I opened a new message and typed in Daveed’s name. I started and erased my message at least five times before sending one.

- Hi, this is Emerson. We met yesterday? Lin told me you had a room for rent. I was hoping to get some more information

I knew the best thing for me to do would be to continue practicing. So I put my phone aside and got back to work. When my mom came home from work, I took this as my cue to get lost. So I went to take a walk in the dying afternoon light. I went to one of my favorite trails and wandered into the woods. There was a dry log a few meters in, so I took a seat and checked my phone. The first thing that popped up was a response from Daveed.

- Yo! It’s good to hear from you. Yeah, it’s just a room but I’m not home much so you’d have free reign of the rest of the house

I chewed my lip and formulated a response.

- Any other expenses? Cable, electricity?

He answered quickly which shocked me.

- Nope! I’ve got a washer and dryer you can use, too

I tried to take deep breaths of the earthy smells of the woods around me. It was too good to be true. After everything I had been through, it was much too good to be true. I sat there until the waves of anxiety passed. When I looked down, Daveed had texted me again.

- Do you want to come see it before you make a decision?

This both made me feel better and worse. I tried to ignore the anxiety bubbling in my stomach though and accept that he was just trying to be nice.

- Actually yes, I think that would be a good idea

-For sure! When will you be in the city next?

-Tomorrow, pit rehearsal in the morning

-Dope! Are you so excited? Let’s grab lunch after and I’ll show you the pad

I couldn’t help but smile. Then I wondered how he got me to smile so easily through a text. It felt like I only ever smiled out of politeness lately. But this smile, albeit small, was genuine.

- Yes, very excited. Was practicing earlier. The score is nuts! Lunch sounds good. Meet me at the theater?

-I know! Alex is a madman. See you at the theater tomorrow Em

I sat in the woods a little longer until it started getting really dark. When I got home, I sat to eat dinner with my mom and Tim. I told her I already had another job at a theater in the city but she was skeptical. I was going to show her the score but then she got snippy so I let it go. I went to bed early, knowing I’d have to catch an early train in the morning if I wanted to get to rehearsal on time. I fell asleep thinking about the texts from Daveed, wondering what lunch would be like.

In the morning I woke feeling excited and anxious. I packed up my cello and a tote bag with my music before trying to get dressed. I nervously sifted through my clothes, trying to decide what to wear. I nearly put on a knee length dress when I realized I had been planning my outfit around lunch with Daveed. Feeling ridiculous and now running a little late, I pulled on a simple grey henley and a flowy yellow floral printed maxi skirt. On my way out the door, I knotted the bottom of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip and grabbed my black leather jacket all before my mom left for work.

I could barely sit still on the train. So I pulled out my score and practiced the fingering silently on the back of my forearm. Once in Grand Central I stopped for a bagel and coffee and debated my options getting to the theater with my cello. In the end, I decided to take the subway. I had ridden the T in Boston a thousand times with my cello in college and after. How hard could it be to navigate the NYC subway system?

With my bagel in one hand, coffee in the other, and my tote bag clamped tightly under my arm I dove into the station with tracks headed to Times Square. I stood on the crowded train, munching my bagel and bracing myself with just the sheer weight of my cello and years of practice. Times Square was just starting to wake at 9am as I crossed it to get to the theater. I let myself in, waving to the ticket girl who had let me in on Sunday and headed for the pit. Alex was the only one down there when I poked my head in the door.

“Hey, we’re going to be in the rehearsal space today. Down the hall past Lin’s dressing room.” he said.

I nodded and made my way through the back of the theater. The closer I got to the rehearsal room, the louder it got. It seemed at least a few players were already there getting warmed up. When I walked in, I saw it was only three and I felt glad that I wasn’t late. The bassist was there, so I decided to sit by him, pulling up a chair and getting my cello unpacked. When I pulled out my score, with it’s taped on photocopied pages, he chuckled.

“Oh so you’re one of those.” he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him, twisting awkwardly behind my cello to see him, “What? I like to make notes.”

“‘ Don’t fucking blow your load.’” He read, squinting at the pages as I flipped through them. “Sure are nice to yourself.”

I laughed, “Gotta get my own attention somehow!”

A herd of players came in and got started tuning up, making the room even louder. Ten minutes later, Alex made his way to the piano and put his music down, spreading it out on top. Not too long later, we all got down to business. It felt amazing, playing with a group of people who were at the same level as me. In college I had always felt a little bored by my peers. Then at the theater in Queens it was even worse especially since most of the players were nearly twice my age. Sitting there in a room of 20 and 30 somethings all at the height of their game, I finally felt at home.

At eleven we stopped for a ten minute break and I went to get a bottle of water from the green room since I had forgotten to put my canteen into my bag that morning. I was sipping some water and rolling a knot out of my shoulder when I heard someone walk past in the hall then double back. When I looked up, I saw Lin come in with the biggest grin on his face. He came over and fist bumped me.

“Em! How’s it going, chica ? Are you loving it?”

“Oh for sure! This is amazing. Seriously...these people. They’re on my level .” I said, feeding off Lin’s energy.

“I knew you would fit right in. This is where you belong. This is the you you needed to be.”

I nodded, “I feel so at home and I’ve only been here for like two hours.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We’re one big family here. Everyone. Cast, crew and pit. Everyone counts. All the parts make a whole.”

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off like resting your voice or something?” I asked.

Lin shrugged, “Wanted to sit in for a little bit of rehearsal. See if there was anything I wanted to adjust. You know how it goes.”

“Oh, alright. Well, I should probably get back in there.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Lin said, following me out of the green room into the hall. He hesitated for a moment, “So did you talk to Daveed?”

“Yeah I did...we’re having lunch later and then he’s going to show me his place. See what I think, you know?” I said.

“Oh...good! I think you’ll really like it. He has a nice place.” Lin said.

“Why do I get the feeling you want me to live with Daveed?” I asked.

Lin lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying to look innocent, “I just want you to have a nice place to live. Only the best for you right? Gotta give you the special treatment.” he teased.

We entered the rehearsal room, “Lin, you may be the death of me.”

“I certainly hope so, chica .”

About an hour later, we were playing through the finale when I glanced up and saw Daveed standing just inside the door of the rehearsal room. I was suddenly very aware that he was watching me and wanted to know how long he had been standing there. Clearly everyone else wasn’t bothered by his presence but I wondered what they would think when I left with him. Alex called it a day about twenty minutes later and everyone stood up to stretch and pack up. Alex and Lin came over to me as I latched up my cello case.

“So I think you sound fantastic. Really you’re melting right in.” Alex said.

Lin nodded, “I agree. Sounds like you’ve been with us the whole time.”

“Thanks, I put in a lot of work yesterday. I’m glad it’s paid off.”

“I appreciate it.” Alex said, smiling and patting me on the shoulder. “Do you think you want to play tomorrow and Thursday night? Or do you want to wait until Friday after full rehearsal?”

I chewed my lip, “Maybe just Thursday night? I think I’d like to have one more day to really get it into my fingers. There’s still some bars that trip me up a little. I’d hate to make those mistakes live.”

Alex nodded sagely, “Of course. That’s fine. Well, you know the drill. Black on black on black. But it doesn’t have to be pants or anything specific. We’re not picky. Be there at least fifteen before curtain to warm up.”

“Great, I’ll be there.” I said.

Alex thanked me and then left to gather his music. Lin stayed where he was as Daveed came over, “Yo, you sounded awesome! Lin wasn’t kidding.”

I willed myself not to blush, “Thanks, yeah. I was pretty happy with how that went.”

Lin was eyeing the two of us, grinning wildly, “So where are you two crazy kids going to lunch?” he asked.

Daveed shrugged, “I wasn’t sure what Em liked, so I was waiting to see.”

I shoved my music back into my tote, “Oh, I’m not picky. Wherever. What are you hungry for?”

“Do you like sushi?”

“Yeah, sushi is good.”

“Dope, I know just the place.”

Lin looked about ready to explode with excitement, “Well! Have fun guys!” he said cheerily.

Daveed and I both smiled at him, confused about his eagerness, “Oh, is there somewhere I can leave my cello until later? I probably shouldn’t drag it around to lunch with me.”

“Yeah, you can put it in my dressing room. I’ll be hanging around for the rest of the day until the show later.” Lin offered.

“Okay, thanks.” I said.

“I’ll go call an Uber.” Daveed said. “Meet me at the stage door?”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” I said, following the two men out of the rehearsal room and down the hall.

I stopped into Lin’s dressing room and tried to find a good place to leave my cello that was least in the way, “Okay, well I’ll be back in a few hours. Take good care of her. She’s special.” I said, patting my case.

Lin flopped onto his couch, “I will. You have fun, okay? Really enjoy yourself.” he said.

I quirked an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing!” he said defensively. “I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Okay...” I said. “Bye Lin.”

“ Adios chica .”

I headed out of his dressing room and down the hall. I found Daveed waiting for me next to the stage door just like he said, looking down at his phone. When he heard me coming he looked up with a smile.  I pulled on my jacket and untangled the long strap from my clutch wallet to strap it over my chest. He looked at one more thing on his phone before slipping it in his pocket. I stepped up to him and smiled up at him.

“So where are we headed first?” I asked.

“Lunch I think. I’m starving.” he said.

“Great, me too.”

“I think the Uber should be here.” he said, pulling his phone back out and loading up the app. “Yeah, they’re coming around the corner.”

“Cool.” I said watching the little car pull up in front of the theater on his screen before he put his phone back in his pocket again.

He pulled open the door a few inches and peeked out before shutting it again. “We’ll have to do this quick. There’s a line of people waiting outside for the lotto.” he said.

“Okay.” I said, suddenly anxious again.

“Alright, let’s do this.” he said.

He pulled the door open and ushered me through it first. I could see the Uber waiting on the opposite side of the street. As soon as I stepped down on the sidewalk, I heard a rush of chatter as people noticed Daveed coming out. He half apologized to some of the people closest to the stage door as we hurried away. I pulled open the door to the Uber and slid into the seat, scooting across so Daveed could get in behind me. When he shut the door, I chanced a look back to see that most of the line was watching us. But then the Uber pulled away and I turned back to face front.

“You two must be actors in the show, huh?” the driver asked.

Daveed left his expression blank, “Something like that.” he answered.

We rode in silence the whole way to the restaurant and when we pulled up, Daveed thanked the driver and climbed out. We went in and got two seats at the sushi bar. We ordered drinks and Daveed insisted on ordering two shots of sake. I had never tried sake before but I didn’t want him to know that. Fortunately I had always had a good tolerance for alcohol, so the shot went down reasonably smooth. While we watched the sushi chef making our meals, he asked me lots of questions.

He wanted to know what made me choose theater, what made me choose cello. He asked about where I grew up and where I went to college. When he asked why I left Boston, I dodged his question by saying I wanted to move closer to try to get a job on Broadway. Then I turned some of the questions on him. I learned that he went to Brown and ran track. He told me about his side career as a rapper for his group Clipping. We finally landed on common ground when I learned he rapped on a track for Watsky, a rapper who went to Emerson College in Boston.

“Yeah, I know Watsky. I met him a few times. I did some bar shows with the quartet I had in college and he was there. Super cool guy.” I said, sticking a piece of sushi in my mouth.

“That kid is fucking dope. The way he spins words is wild.” Daveed agreed, nodding. “He wrote this crazy track about a post apocalyptic America where robot clowns rule the world and Justin Bieber is the leader of the free world. It was insane.”

“Wow, I’m gonna have to listen to that one.”

“I think it’s on his new album. The one that just came out a few months ago. Uh...I think it’s called Times Infinity.”

“Okay, I’ll look it up.” I said, pulling out my phone to make a note. “I’m always looking for new music.”

“You probably shouldn’t look up Clipping.” Daveed said.

“Why not?” I asked, putting my phone away.

“It’s pretty...hard stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’d be into it.”

“Maybe...maybe not.” I said.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t know what you like.”

We finished our lunch and Daveed payed the bill before we headed back out to the street. “So, we’re not very far from my place if you just want to walk. Get an idea of the neighborhood.” he suggested.

I shrugged, “That’s fine. It’s pretty nice out today.”

“Cool.” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and leading me off down the street. “So it’s not super close to any subway stations. Lexington and 59th is the closest. By the Apple Store. But there’s always Uber if the weather is nasty.”

“That’s okay. I lived about half a mile from the closest T station, so I’m used to walking in crap weather.”

“Oh, right yeah.” he said.

We turned a corner onto a short block of brownstones, “Well this is my hood.” he said and I tried not to giggle.

“It’s nice, lots of trees.” I said as we walked under freshly budding trees planted every ten feet or so.

“Here we are.” he said, stopping in front of one about halfway down the street. There was a narrow alley going down on either side and a fence with a gate around the bottom of the stairs. He opened the gate and climbed up the stairs to the door, pulling out his keys. I followed him, shutting the gate behind me as he unlocked the door. He pushed the door open and ushered me inside ahead of him.

The hall was dim, light filtering around the corner of a short wall blocking off the entry from the massive open living room and kitchen. The ceilings were at least ten feet high and a large chandelier hung over the couch in the living room. The living room was painted a deep, rich teal color, matching the color of the kitchen cabinets. Along the right wall was a stairwell heading to the second floor. Daveed shut the door behind me and moved into the living room.

“Well this is it. There’s a little powder room down here and the door to the basement where the washer and dryer are is around the corner here.” he said, leading me down the hall towards the kitchen. “I don’t cook very often so the fridge could basically be all yours.”

I peered around, nervous to touch anything, as if I were walking around in a museum, “Oh...right.” I said quietly.

“The bedrooms are upstairs.” he said, leading me back down the hall to the stairs. I followed him up and he stopped on the landing, “This is my room.”

He pointed at the door to the left of the landing and I nodded, “Okay.”

“Then down here, I left the good room open. This would be your room.” he said, turning to go down the hall.

I followed him back towards the front of the house and he pushed open the door at the end of the hall, revealing a bright, sunlit room. It was almost completely empty, except for a few boxes and cans of paint. The three of the walls were bright white and the right wall was exposed brick, which seemed such a stark contrast to the rest of the house where most of the walls were drywalled and painted in rich jewel tones or such a dark grey it was nearly black. The ceilings were slightly lower than the first floor, but the room still felt excessively massive. The far wall had four windows, two of which bumped out with a window bench underneath.

“There’s a walk in closet and the bathroom is over here.” Daveed said, stepping around to the right of the door.

He pushed open a door that led to the closet and then to another door beyond that which he revealed was the bathroom. The bathroom was almost more magnificent than the rest of the house. There was a large walk in shower on the left and a rectangular sink set into a sleek vanity along the right wall. But at the back there was a big, clawfoot tub illuminated by a skylight in the sloped ceiling overhead. I was tempted to go sit in the tub, just to see what it was like. As I stood there, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the luxury of it all. I had never been in a place so extravagant.

“And you only want $450 a month for all of this?” I asked incredulously.

Daveed was leaning against the door to the bathroom, “Yeah, I make plenty. And it would be nice for the house to have someone actually living in it for once.” he admitted.

“I...this is...your house is...really beautiful.” I stammered, looking back at the clawfoot tub longingly.

“You can paint the walls whatever color you want. And I can help you out if you need to get furniture.”

I shook my head, fiddling nervously with one of the zippers on my jacket, “You don’t have to...I can figure something out. I still have some savings.”

All of my furniture I was forced to leave behind in Boston when I fled. The only item I was able to save was the Dutch modern chair my grandmother gave me when I was moving into my first apartment with Kevin. Everything else stayed in my boyfriend’s apartment. All the money I had spent getting us furniture, all the time I spent putting together IKEA pieces, left behind because I had no choice but to run. I left in the night, while my boyfriend was out at the bar, struggling to fit my chair and all the rest of my belongings into my car. Thinking about this while standing in this beautiful bathroom nearly brought me to tears. But then I remembered Daveed standing there and sucked in a deep breath.

“Hey don’t worry about it. You pick stuff out and send it to me. I’ll get it delivered.” he said calmly.

I looked at him and chewed my lip, “I don’t know if I can live here.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can. You love it, I can see you drooling over the tub alone.” he joked, waving a hand at the tub.

I glanced at it again, sighing, “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me. I could be an awful person, an awful roommate.”

“I highly doubt either of those things. But if you want I could be a really mean landlord. Take a really long time to repair stuff and make you pay for like...dusting or something.” he offered.

This actually made me smile, “This is all just so unbelieveable. From Lin finding me in Queens to this. It’s insane. I’m dreaming. I must be.”

Daveed stood up straight and then came over, reaching out with a big hand to brush his hand over my hair, smoothing it down over my ear, “You’re not dreaming. And from what Lin has told me, you deserve it all. From what I can tell just from talking with you today, you deserve it all and more. So let me just do this for you. Okay?”

I nodded, transfixed by his eyes and the way the sunlight made them glitter, “Okay.”

We went back into the bedroom and I sat down in the window, looking down at the street. I could see the tram for Roosevelt Island and the intricate steel structure of the Queensboro Bridge. It felt so New York. It could only get more stereotypical if I could see the Empire State Building. The sun was warm on my face and I could picture myself sitting there drinking tea and reading books. When I glanced over, Daveed was watching me with an almost imperceptible smile on his face.

“Are you ready to go? I have to get back to the theater.” He said.

I nodded, “Oh, yeah of course.” I said, taking another glance out the window.

“If you want to stay, I can give you the keys...” he offered. “I just figured you'd want more time to think.”

He pulled them out of his pocket and their twinkle echoed in the empty room, “You already made keys?”

“I have three sets. The other set is at Lin’s house for safe keeping.” He explained.

I got up and crossed the room, taking the keys from his outstretched hand, “Well...okay then.”

“So does this mean you're good?”

I nodded slowly and then smiled at him, “Yeah. I think I'm good.”

#daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #hamilton imagine #lin manuel miranda #alex lacamoire

[hickorycreekrp-blog]

Out of Character:

Name/Alias: Liv

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 22

Timezone: EST

Face Claim Preferences: Amandla Stenberg

Character Basics:

Full Name: Lydia Rose Palmer

Nicknames/Prefers: Occasionally called Lyds

Age: 19

Occupation: Waitress at Eastern Delights

Pronouns: She/Her typically, they/them depending on who she’s with or her mood

Gender: Non-binary (only very recently out to more than just her closest friends and family; still figuring it out)

Hometown: Hickory Creek

Current Neighborhood: Hickory Square

Highest Education: Getting her associate’s at the college in Greene Hills

Religion: Methodist; Her mother attends local AME church every Sunday but Lydia’s never bought into it. She let her daughters decide when they were each ten whether or not they wanted to keep coming with her.

Family and Relationships:

Parents: Teresa Palmer (Mom; 44), Charlie Anderson (Uncle; 38), Jack Anderson (Uncle; 36)

Siblings: Ava Nicole Palmer (deceased)

Children: N/A

Other: Lucy Ava Palmer (Niece/essentially daughter; 14 months)

Pets: Cactus the cat

Sexual Orientation: Lesbian

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic

Marital Status: Single

Personality:

Favorite Film: She’ll say Jaws but it’s probably really American Beauty

Favorite TV Show: Parks and Recreation

Favorite Book: The Chronicles of Narnia (as a child she used to daydream about disappearing into some fantastical world. Ava and her would pretend all the time that their closet was a way into Narnia. There’s still a crayon drawing Ava did of a door on the back wall of the closet. Ava would be Susan and Lydia was Lucy. They got into a petty fight over this once, since Lydia wanted to be the one with the bow and arrow but Ava explained that she had to have it so she could protect her little sister from the White Witch)

Favorite Song: Wait for it, Leslie Odom Jr. and Dirty Gold, Angel Haze

Favorite Color: Blue

Likes: Summer, car windows rolled down, chocolate, family, snuggies, swimming

Dislikes: Gossip, small towns, drunks, Mondays, heels, rude tourists, spiders

History:

TW: gender identity issues, pregnancy, death (I apologize in advance for the grossly overused trope)

People talk, especially in a small town, whether or not there’s anything to talk about. Her mom always said that you may as well give them something to talk about then. Growing up, Lydia disagreed. The Palmers slash Andersons had already given Hickory Creek more than enough gossip to last a lifetime; Lydia refused to add to it. Between the scandal with her father (which was a nice way of saying he ran off with his secretary years ago, leaving behind his two young children), her mom’s eccentricities, her uncles’ relationship, and Ava, Hickory didn’t need her. Over the years, as a comfort, as an excuse for her cowardice, she told herself that they didn’t deserve her. Ava changed everything though.

Lydia was three and Ava was five when their father disappeared, only a note and the clothes he didn’t deem important enough to pack left behind, well, and his family too, of course. The details of his scandalous affair would unravel publicly in the following weeks. As it turned out, most of the town had already known about it, more than Mrs. Palmer had. For several years, on their birthdays, a card from Miami, Florida would arrive from him with a ten-dollar bill inside, until even that stopped. Lydia and Ava never missed him; they always had more than enough family around with their uncle and his husband living with them.

When Lydia started kindergarten, the other mothers whispered together, (that’s the youngest Palmer kid. Can you imagine just up and abandoning those girls? Well, I mean, have you met Teresa? She’s an odd bird. I’m sure that was part of it. And, you know, her brother and his partner live with them. That can’t be a good environment for those kids. I don’t know about that. My neighbor’s son is in the same class as the older one and she said she seems like a very nice girl, a bit of hoot, actually.). Lydia was just old enough to be aware of some of this. At the very least, she did know that people would always compare her with Ava. It was hard not to know when it was most teachers’ first comment to her, (you’re much quieter than your sister, Honey. Is everything okay?). This wasn’t news to Lydia; she’d accepted from an early age that she paled in comparison to Ava the star, funny, boisterous, beautiful. Ava took after their mother and Lydia after her Uncle Charlie. In another scenario, this might have created tension and jealousy between the girls but instead Ava and Lydia were incredibly close. It was Ava and Lydia, Lydia and Ava, inseparable, always. They were each other’s best friends and confidantes.  

Lydia was just quieter by nature, but the perfectly average grades, average appearance, average hobbies, were also an attempt to disappear. Lydia grew up trying to make sure she gave Hickory no reason to talk about her. It was Ava, more than anyone else in their family, who hated this because she knew there was more to Lydia than she chose to reveal. She tried to urge Lydia to be herself, to just ignore what people said. It was easier said than done though. At some point during high school, Lydia decided that once she moved away from Hickory, away from the people who’d known her and her family forever, then she would start over, be herself, theirself, herself, whatever. She hadn’t quite figured it out.

She was twelve when she first started occasionally getting a twitchy feeling after being referred to as a girl and fourteen before she dared doing any research. Boy wasn’t right either, at least, not always. It was a relief to find out that she didn’t have to be either, that there were other people that struggled with it. She explained it first, haltingly, to Ava who told her she was free to be whoever. Later that same week, Ava, presented her with a pair of basketball shorts and a binder, as well as, a cute sundress. Lydia loved the gesture but, all the same, she’d tucked the binder into the back of her t-shirt drawer. Being brave, being theirself, wasn’t worth it. Ava, sweet, perfect Ava, just hugged her close and promised to be right there, beside her, whenever she decided she was ready.

(Ava died two years later.  She was not right there. She never would be again. It was the first promise she broke.)

After her high school graduation, Ava stayed in Hickory, unlike Lydia she loved it and she was hardly about to move away from their family. She got a job working as a secretary for Hickory Creek Medical, which was where she met Connor, a freshman at NYU on summer break with his frat brothers. The two spent most of his two-week vacation in a whirlwind affair. It was only a summer fling. Except, except, that a month after he left Ava realized she was pregnant. After a long conversation with their family, Ava chose to keep the baby but decided she didn’t want to get in contact with Connor.

With a niece on the way, Lydia almost changed her mind about leaving town the moment she graduated but Ava refused to let her change her plans. As a compromise, Lydia only applied to colleges that weren’t too far away. Her acceptance to Boston College, her top choice, came during the sixth month of Ava’s pregnancy. Hickory Creek was talking about them again but for once in Lydia’s life she didn’t care. It was impossible not feel happy with Ava glowing and her own freedom in reach.

Lydia was in AP Statistics when one of the ninth grade English teachers, also their next-door neighbor, stuck her head in the door and told Lydia to grab her stuff. She glanced down at her phone as she hurriedly grabbed her bag and saw a list of missed calls from her family, everyone but Ava. Heart thudding heavily, in her chest, her throat, her temple, she left the classroom. The moment the door shut, she asked, what’s wrong. It was late enough in the pregnancy that Ava could’ve just been in early labor but Lydia could tell from the missed calls, from the pallid look on Mrs. Price’s face that that wasn’t the case.

Mrs. Price drove her to the hospital as Lydia talked to her Uncle on the phone. The doctor said that Ava had a placenta abruption and that they were doing an emergency c-section. He said the doctor was hopeful both baby and mom would be fine. It was details like that Lydia would still be able to remember with crystal clarity years later. That and the nauseating anesthetic smell of the surgery waiting room, the ridiculous bunny slippers her mother was wearing, the gum wrapper on the floor beside the trashcan, the bright blue of the doctor’s scrubs.

When the doctor came out hours later, face a careful arrangement of detached sympathy, she said Ava had hemorrhaged. They couldn’t save her. Lydia vomited in the trashcan, eyes fixed on the gum wrapper, and decided that nobody should be able to use a word like hemorrhage.

(There is no way, no metaphor, to truly describe what it’s like to be standing in a hospital waiting room, a bunch of eyes on you, as you try to understand that the person you love is gone.)

For two days, Lydia sat there in the waiting room and everyone let her. No one dared tell her she needed to eat or get up or anything. They could see the crater that had been left behind.

Around lunch on the third day, she went to the cafeteria with her family. After she ate, Lydia let them take her to meet her niece. She was healthy and beautiful and what was left of Ava. The name card on her bassinet read Babygirl Palmer. They’d waited for Lydia to name her because they understood already, without having to ask, that the baby was Lydia’s in the same way that Ava and Lydia had belonged to each other.

Lucy Ava, Lydia said quietly as she reached down and picked up the little girl. It was her turn to be the protector.

At the funeral days later, Lydia wore a rainbow t-shirt and jean skirt and carefully held Lucy in her arms. Hickory Creek was talking about all of them and finally, finally Lydia could feel what the rest of her family, what Ava, had always felt, fuck them.

#Amandla Stenberg fc #character: nonbinary #character: hickory square #hickorycreek lydia palmer #character: 10s

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. What is something you always wear, even in the shower? I used to have three rings that I literally wore 24/7, which means I even wore them in the shower, for years. Sometime last year I took them off for some reason, and I just didn’t end up putting them back on. They’ve been off ever since, so now I don’t have anything I always wear.

Cool story, I know.

2. What is your favorite thing to wear to sleep? Comfy pants and a baggy shirt. <<< Same.

3. What is/was your favorite stuffed animal growing up! Growing up I didn’t have one, but now my favorites are all my giraffe stuffed animals that I have.

4. Have you read any book more than 5 times? No. I’ve read a lot of books that I really enjoyed, but I’ve never reread any. For some reason I can’t do that with that books? I don’t know why.

5. How did you feel after your first kiss? It was awkward, but it was my first and all I knew. I was giddy about it, lol.

6. What type of underwear do you prefer? Cotton.

7. What was the first movie you’ve seen in a movie theater? I don’t know, but the first one that comes to mind is Stuart Little. I know that’s not the first, though. It was probably a Disney movie.

8. What is your state or country’s minimum wage? I think it’s $10.50.

9. What moment in time did you truly feel ‘awe-inspired?’ Uhhh. I don’t know.

10. What is your least favorite food? Chinese food.

11. What is your favorite constellation and why? I don’t have one.

12. If you could have any hair style you wanted, what would it look like? I like my length, but I would add some layers.

13. Gold, silver, or bronze accessories? Silver.

14. Do you have any allergies? Latex and tangerines.

15. Do you like the smell of cedar wood? I do.

16. Shower curtain, or door? Mine has sliding doors.

17. Do you wear slippers? Nope.

18. What is your favorite pattern? Plaid.

19. Do you watch any big sports games? Nope.

20. Can you play any instruments? No. :/ I used to be able to play some piano, but it’s been too long now. I’d need a serious refresher. I wish I kept up with it and took it more seriously. I’d love to be able to play.

21. If you could learn any language that you don’t already know semi-fluently, what would it be? I do know some Spanish, but I’d like to be fluent in it.

22. What is your favorite topic in history class? There’s a lot of interesting topics throughout.

23. Do you believe in love at first sight? No.

24. Name one dream that ruined your day when you woke up. I’m sure there’s one that had me in a bad mood or upset after I woke up, but I’m blanking on an example right now.

25. Have you ever burned yourself? Yes. Not fun.

26. Do you own a hair dryer? Yeah, we have one. I don’t use it, though.

27. What age did you learn to make toast? Uhh. I have no idea. Probably pretty young since it’s super easy.

28. What color is the mat in your bathroom? Brown.

29. Name something in your bathroom you constantly run out of besides toilet paper. There isn’t anything else that we constantly run out of, though. Not anything on the same level as toilet paper.

30. What kind of watch do you wear? I don’t wear one. I just use my phone.

31. How much did the shirt you’re wearing right now cost? I’m not sure because it was a Christmas gift.

32. Are you still friends with anyone from middle school? Yeah, my friend Amanda.

33. Do you hope to advance at your current job? I’m unemployed.

34. Would you like to marry whoever you’re seeing right now? I’m not seeing anyone right now.

35. Have you ever thought to yourself that you’re the luckiest person in the world? I felt that way with Ty, as cheesy as it probably sounds.

36. What is your favorite color to paint your nails? Black, honestly.

37. What time of day do you most enjoy looking at the sky? Like evening time when the sun starts to go down. When the sky has pink and yellow and orange mixed in.

38. What is your dream vehicle? I don’t have one.

39. What was the best thing you ever did for your parents or legal guardians or parent figures? I’m not sure. You’d have to ask them.

40. Have you ever worn a suit? No.

41. Would you rather make 2d or 3d art? I suppose 2D. That is if I could actually make any kind of art at all.

42. Have you ever made a list of questions for Tumblr? No.

43. Do you prefer candles or incense? Incense.

44. If you marry, would you do a tradition wedding, or get hitched? I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’ll ever get married.

45. What is the weirdest thing you’ve done with binder clips? Nothing weird that I can think of.

46. Do you still go trick-or-treating? No.

47. Have you ever won a costume contest? I’ve never been in one, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have won any.

48. What is something you’ve done every summer for as long as you can remember? Complain about the heat? ha.

49. Do you touch things for no reason? Uhhh. Maybe? I don’t know. Probably more so absentmindedly.

50. Do you eat candy corn? Yup. I actually really like candy corn in small quantities. <<< Same!  Because it’s so sweet I can only have a little at a time as well, but it is good.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[detective-prince-bluebottle]

tagged by @agatharja

first rule: tag 9 people you want to get to know better! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to! :)

... my anxiety won’t let me tag anyone because i’m afraid i’d be bothering them

second rule: Bold statements that are true

- I am 5'7 or taller (i fucking wiiiiiiiiiiiiiish)

- I wear glasses (i’m meant to but i don’t because they get dirty and that bothers me)

-I have at least one tattoo

- I have at least one piercing (6 distributed around my ears and 1 nose)

- I have blonde hair

- I have brown eyes

- I have short hair (hells yeah boi)

- My abs are at least somewhat defined (bitch i wish, fuck off)

- I have or had braces

PERSONALITY:

- I love meeting new people

- People tell me I am funny (ppl tell me nothing. also i never speak out loud)

- Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine (i mean i’d like to but i have no idea what to say)

- I enjoy physical challenges

- I enjoy mental challenges

- I am playfully rude to people I know (i mean kinda sometimes? idk)

- I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it 

- There is something I would change about my personality (everything i would love to not be a bland robot)

ABILITY:

- I can sing well

- I can play an instrument (i can sort of play ukulele and guitar. and ocarina i guess lol. i also took recorder lessons when i was in primary school. now that was a bad time)

- I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (lol no)

- I am a fast runner (actually i can sprint really fast but for only like 10 seconds)

- I can draw well

- I have a good memory (HAHAHAHAHA NO)

- I am good at doing math in my head

- I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute (i used to when i was like a teen but my asthma and stuff has gotten real bad since then)

- I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling (idk probably i mean see aforementioned unbolded good memory i can’t even remember two days ago at all i must have beaten 2 people at arm wrestling. i mean i know i’ve wrestled the arm)

- I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch

- I know how to throw a proper punch (well i mean i can do a karate punch. you start with your fist closed and facing up, held next to like your hip and your elbow’s like pointed back, and then you thrust forward and up a bit and twist your fist down inwards, so you end up with it at chest level. idk)

HOBBIES:

- I enjoy sports (i feel like eventually i will end up watching something like women’s soccer or women’s basketball, because i am a pathetic virginal gay that can’t talk to and is unattractive to girls)

- I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else (i tried out for soccer twice. since i’m a fatass they didn’t go well)

- I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else (i was in primary school i have no idea why i think it’s cuz my grandma wanted me to be? but it wasn’t all bad i mean one time we went to like a choir competition and the conductor called me a boy so that was neat as fuck. man i got called a boy a lot when i was a kid it was fucking heaven compared to now, assholes calling me ma’am and shit man get fuckt)

- I have learned a new song in the past week (what does this mean? like to play on an instrument? bitch i can’t even concentrate long enough to learn Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe i just get discouraged and shit)

- I exercise at least once a week (listen i intend to rectify this and go swimming every day, now that i finally realised like last year that i actually have fucking dysphoria and that’s why i hated wearing swimsuits (aside from because i’m fat as shit and disgusting to witness in a fucking onepiece like what the fuck were my parents fucking thinking making me wear shit like that when i’m obese as sin) i’m gonna get board shorts and a rashguard and wear one of my less liked binders and it’ll be so fucking good)

- I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months (fuck off i’m not leaving my house in fucking summer it’s fucking 40°)

- I have drawn something in the past month

- I enjoy writing (man i haven’t properly written in like 7 years because idk depression but i still write stories in my head when i’m going to sleep at night and showering and whatever)

- Fandoms are my #1 priority

- I do some form of Martial arts (i used to do karate when i was uhhh 14?)

EXPERIENCES:

- I have had my first kiss (hahahahaha *sob* i fucking wish)

- I have had alcohol (yeah man i love jagerbombs and blue lagoons, defuckinglicious)

- I have scored a winning point in a sport (fuck sports)

- I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting (okay wait does this count for like rewatches? because when i saw my first anime i was obsessed with watching it - martian successor nadesico btw - for the entire day and that’s all i did, i sat in bed and watched it all morning to night)

- I have been at an overnight event (i meannnn when i went to see the last jedi slash meet some of my friends from my guild irl for the first time i stayed over at their house on the sofa and left the next morning does that count)

- I have been in a taxi (yeah it was only recently actually, our car fucking died and we had to take some convoluted fucking public transport out of our place from middle-of-dead-ass-fucking-nowhere-ville (needless to say i hate the suburb i live in. and country) to somewhere where we could get a taxi to a car rental place. or was it a dealership? i can’t fucking remember man do you see this shitty memory in action?? it was only like 2 years ago fuck me)

- I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year (well i was IN a hospital but that’s because i was going to a dental clinic in the building)

- I have beaten a video game in one day (what game can you beat in a day man???)

- I have visited another country (i haven’t got enough fucking money lad)

- I have been to one of my favorite bands’ concerts (listen fuck you i’m totally counting livestreamed concerts, i’ve seen all of Steam Powered Giraffe’s youtube concerts and the one recorded in 2013 and you bet your ass i’m gonna pay $20 for the right to see the film of the anniversary concert)

MY LIFE:

- I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend (i kinda consider my friend bunny my best friend but i doubt he considers me his bestie)

- I live close to my school/work (HAHAHA GET REKT I TAKE MY UNI COURSES ONLINE AHAHAHA)

- My parents are still together

- I have at least one sibling (i mean technically i have 3 but i’ve never met them. at least i don’t think i have. they can get lost far as i’m concerned)

- I live in the United States (i wouldn’t live there if you paid me. maybe if obama were still president you could’ve got me to live there if you gave me like 5 million dollars, but now i would actually rather die)

- There is snow where I live right now (god i would fucking kill for some snow)

- I have hung out with a friend in the past month (yooo i was boutta unbold this because i have no fuckin friends except my online pals but then i remembered going to meet two of my friends from online and seeing star wars with them!! holy shit i feel validated and less lonely)

- I have a smartphone (samsung galaxy s6 BOI i am so fucking angry i was gonna hold out for the s7 cuz 7 is my second favourite fucking number (first is 14 but i wasn’t gonna wait a decade for that or w/e) anyway i finally decided to just get the s6 and the fucker asshole 7 is announced like a month later aaaaaarhghdks)

- I own at least 15 CDs (i have a whole fuck ton of videogames and they’re on CDs get owned HAHA FOILED but i also have probably about 15 CDs of music if i’m gonna count the stuff my family has)

- I share my room with someone (man my room isn’t even big enough for me how you gonna fit a whole nother person in that cupboard)

RELATIONSHIPS:

- I am in a Relationship (*cries uncontrollably*)

- I have a crush on a celebrity (well i mean i wouldn’t say no to like scarlett johansson if she told me she wanted to rail me. or gal gadot. or kate beckinsale. or kristen stewart. or - okay this is probably a massive list of ladies i want to rawdog me)

- I have a crush on someone I know (i’m slightly in love with all of my female friends because they show me kindness)

- I’ve been in at least 3 relationships (alright fucking buckle up kids: i don’t count online relationships because i’m a bitter person but when i was like 10 i was in a ‘relationship’ on runescape with a boy the same age at me and i legitimately think it was actually a kid like me and not a predator because all we did was stand next to each other and talk about cows or something and make the avatars kiss (we both had male avatars because i was obviously subconsciously aware of my gender identity at that stage). when i was like 13/14 i met a girl at a camp during the school holidays (i went to camp almost every holiday) and we chatted over msn after camp ended and tbh i think she forgot who i was because she suddenly said she liked me one day so i decided i liked her too and we started to ‘date’. lasted like 2 weeks? idk but she broke it off cuz i was inattentive (i can’t remember but i guess i could’ve been i’m not a very social person believe it or not *snicker*) anyway i saw her at the next two camps and it was hella fucking awkward the first time because i wanted to be friends with her but her other friends intimidated me so i just hovered around her creepily and she got angry at me and i got sad, but the 2nd time was a lot better i think, i was extremely distressed when i saw her at the bus station for the camp transport and i sulked the entire ride, but when we all got there i accidentally fell into her friend group (i actually think it’s because the other girls were really nice and they’d seen me sulking and wanted to cheer me up, man kinda fucked up huh) i pretty much ignored her the whole time and after camp ended she contacted me on msn for some reason and idk she like asked me how i’d felt when i saw her at camp and i was honest and told her i’d been pretty upset and then she got pissed at me and never spoke to me again. wow such drama huh? oh and my 3rd ‘relationship’ was when i was uhh 16/17-ish with this girl i met on some naruto fansite. i don’t even like naruto, and i actually remember absolutely nothing about my interactions with her. like at all. i don’t remember how we met or who dumped who or whatever bullshit. i’m not sure why this is i mean maybe it’s because this was at the same time i had a massive fucking obsessive infatuation with a girl at my school and well it didn’t turn out so hot and i think i’ve blocked out a lot of shit. anyway i hope you all enjoyed that wall of text haha of course you fucking didn’t. well tough titties me lad)

- I have never been in a relationship (*cries*)

- I have admitted my feelings to a crush (fuck no holy shit)

- I get crushes easily (yeah well if any female is nice to me i’m a goner. also one time during high school i started getting crushes on all the girls in my extended english class like i think it was a new girl each week. it was a tiny class there was only like 8 of us, no stinky boys (even if i’d realised i was trans at the time, i’m not stinky :P))

- I have had a crush for over a year (it was not fun)

- I have been in a relationship for over a year

- I have had feelings for a friend (do semi acquaintances count. or ‘girls that tolerated me enough to let me sit with them at lunch’)

RANDOM:

- I have break-danced

- I know a person named Jamie

- I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce (listen i don’t fucking remember. but i’m good at pronunciations and shit anyway)

- I have dyed my hair (it was really short and blonde i kinda looked like a skinhead)

- I’m listening to a song on repeat right now (tongue tied from red dwarf)

- I have punched someone in the past week

- I know someone who has gone to jail

- I have broken a bone (broke my ankle in primary school because i’m fat and dumb and tried to slide along the grass into the safezone during tag or whatever, also i broke my wrist when i was 18 because i’m fat and dumb and i was learning how to drive a scooter but i went around a corner too slow or idk unbalanced or some shit, i think i broke the mirror on it but fuck that infernal machine i had to get fucking surgery and get pins in my wrist. when i got them out it was actually the closest i’ve ever come to fainting like the doctor dude was straining hard to pull these ones on the side out and when they finally popped out and a ton of blood gushed out i like deflated and teetered in my seat a bit it was an experience)

- I have eaten a waffle today (never had a waffle)

- I know what I want to do in life (well idk about an actual career but i want to write a book and get it published and make tons of bank)

- I speak at least two languages (i took japanese for 6 years don’t fucking tell me that doesn’t count just because i can’t carry a conversation in the language. also i took a class on latin for a semester it was dope af)

- I have made a new friend in the past year

#game #game of some description idk

[freakflagbyiana]

Pride & Coming out

It’s Pride month, and I’ve been listening to the coming out stories of people I know and admire. I’ve also been thinking a lot about my friends who either aren’t out or are out but their family doesn’t quite accept them... They have an “understanding” that they don’t talk about it. So here’s my coming out story, a queer memoir in 3 acts: Childhood, Puberty, and Adulthood.

Childhood

When I was a kid, I was called a Tomboy. It’s not even entirely accurate; I played with Barbies and makeup and costumes. I just also enjoyed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and video games and comic books and getting dirty. And since this was the '80s, having an androgynous haircuts wasn't an indicator of gender or sexuality one way or another, it was simply the fashion.

Here’s a fun fact: My dad potty trained me, so I first attempted to pee standing up. He quickly realized he had to demonstrate sitting down if he was going to be the one teaching me. My idea of femininity - instilled in me by my mother - was also rather androgynous or 'tomboy'. Because she had always been skinny and flat chested, I grew up naturally assuming I’d be the same. I came from mom so I’ll look like mom when I grow up, right?

I remember hating Easter. It was the only time mom made me wear a big frilly dress for the pictures we'd send to Grandma. Pictures which inevitably involved me sitting on the side of the highway in a field of bluebonnets. In these photos, I am wearing a hot, unbreathable dress with scratchy tulle to make it 'poofy', sitting in a field (probably next to some fire ants), breathing in fumes of the highway with the afternoon sun burning my retinas, and trying not to squint too much for the picture. I remember thinking, “Boys don’t have to deal with this crap” (To this day, I still take bluebonnet pictures in the shade.)

I remember liking pink because, “I’m a girl, I’m supposed to like pink. Barbie’s favorite color is pink, so if I like Barbie, I like pink.” Gender Programming in action, folks! Eventually I rebelled against this gender standard, and, to this day, I’m still allergic to pink. Later I felt vindicated when I figured out how olive-yellow my skin tone was and thus how pink will always make me look sick. But I think it will always make me feel sick, too, because it was forced on me so heavily as a child. Forced by society, that is, it wasn’t my mom’s fault. I remember not knowing quite what was going on with David Bowie in Labyrinth but being really into it. {see previous blog on the subject} My parents watched a lot of MTV in the '80s, which explains most of my music and aesthetic tastes. But, more importantly, as a kid who would not understand the negative sides of the decade - the war on drugs, the AIDS epidemic, the Yuppies - until much later, the '80s were a magical time for a baby queer. Grace Jones was a strong masculine woman of color; and Nick Rhodes made it okay for “straight” men to have what I still call the gayest pink wedding I’ve ever seen. I could go on about my influences from this decade but the points that are relevant right now are these: Androgyny was fashionable, and Genderqueer was fashionable. In so many ways, the society of my early childhood, the '80s and early '90s, accepted all this stuff far better than that of my pre-teen and teenage years, the later '90s and '00s. At the time when I was affected most by society’s views on sexuality and gender identity, the culture was shifting, becoming less fluid... More into dividing by categories and labels and, to some, moralities. In my childhood, my mother was a department store makeup artist. This is a key ingredient in the Life Story of Iana. She was a department store makeup artist for Clinique, but she really wanted to be a special effects makeup artist for the movies ... like back in the days before CGI became the most efficient option, when they still hired artisans to create prosthetic movie monsters. (RIP the glory days of prosthetic SFX.) This is why I grew up watching horror movies and wasn’t scared by the scary stuff. She always explained to me how they made the zombies look dead, or blood look real, or those amazing transformations in American Werewolf in London & Thriller. Horror education aside, she also notably introduced me to makeup, brought home by her from work for me to play with. This was her most glorious, single-mom, life-hack moment: Tell child they can play with makeup and get them set up in the dry bath tub, allow them to draw on themselves and on the walls (because it’s only tile and it’s only makeup) while you sneak in a nap on the fuzzy bathmat floor. Dangle arm over bathtub so that the child knows you’re still there. When they are done, surprise! it’s bath-time, and you’re already trapped in the tub, kid! ... Frankly, it was a true stroke of genius. When people tell me “you’re so good at makeup,” it's like, of course I am! It was one of my first toys, and I’ve been playing with it ever since. You'd be, too, if you’d been playing with it as long as you can remember. It’s simply a matter of practice: do a thing 1000 times, and you’re a master, right?

Puberty

I grew up in Cuernavaca, the “affordable” hippie area of Westlake at the time. Cuernavaca is a weird little microcosm all on it’s own... I once referred to it as “The Twin Peaks of Westlake” and I stand by that statement. I attended West Ridge Middle School from 1996 to 1999. Although I was closer to my mom, I had to live with my dad in order to go to this “better” school. All the people I'm still close to from that time were kids from my neighborhood. They weren’t completely spoiled jerks, and most were probably a little weird like me. I had a beautiful best friend named Jane. I’m using her name because I want her to know if she ever reads this. Her parents were hippies while mine were weird, artist nerds into cyberpunk and technology, and we were from opposite worlds in many ways. But both of us, along with our other close friends Chelsea and Saira, were great at art. We were like an antisocial fantasy art coven who didn’t want to get involved in school politics ... we would keep to ourselves and draw when we were supposed to be taking notes, draw during lunch, and hang out after school to draw and listen to music. We hang around after class to talk to our favorite art teacher, Ms. Mouer, who always would say, “You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever!” (That’s not relevant to the story; it’s just a shoutout incase she reads this, too.) I remember this time was when Labyrinth was out of print, and I was the only girl in the neighborhood who had a VHS copy, taped off of HBO. My girlfriends would frequently come over to watch it, although once it got re-released on DVD, my house was suddenly less popular. It was in this environment that I was able to explore different aspects of my aesthetic. In hindsight, if I had been this age nowadays, I’d describe myself as non binary or genderqueer (not the same thing, but I’m not sure which I’d have used then). But at the time, I looked like an outcast no matter what; people could make their own assumptions, and I certainly wasn’t going to defend myself to anyone judging. The first Bowie album I acquired (read "stole from mom") around then was the Ryko edition of Scary Monsters - one of my favorite David Bowie songs still is Teenage Wildlife. This part always brings a tear to my eye. I think most teens can relate to this because most of us were “others” in some form: You'll take me aside, and say "Well, David, what shall I do? They wait for me in the hallway" I'll say "Don't ask me, I don't know any hallways" But they move in numbers and they've got me in a corner I feel like a group of one, no-no They can't do this to me I'm not some piece  of teenage wildlife I had developed an androgynous, genderfluid aesthetic, but, problematically, I did not have an androgynous body. I did not develop into a lanky, Twiggy-esque waif like my mother. I developed hips and breasts so suddenly that I had bright red stretch marks, everywhere. To this day, my breasts were never as big as they were then. I’m assuming it has something to do with still having “baby fat” and all the new hormones working overtime, and also my diet being sugar/dairy heavy (fatter = curvier). Later, in my 20s, I was relieved they got smaller as I cut HFCS out of my diet. In any case, sudden curves meant that I had to drop out of gymnastics ... it’s very difficult to safely throw your center of gravity around when your center of gravity is extra jiggly and changing daily.

I didn’t know how to dress for my body type. At the time when I just wanted to wear oversized band tees, the only bras I could use were underwire ... it would be years before I discovered the glory of sports bras, much less breast binders. So I wore oversized band t-shirts with underwire bras, paired with pants that never fit quite right (they still don’t) or full skirts. On top of wearing what most often resembled a giant tent, I had started cutting and coloring my own hair, so it changed regularly and got shorter. Sidecuts, mowhawks, pixie cuts, and a fully shaved head at 14 years old. From the outside looking in, you could definitely tell I was either “gender confused” or “on my way to becoming a butch lesbian” to use the language of the times; non-binary was not yet a label, especially not a respected one. My room was covered in posters of comic book women (mainly the characters from The Sandman), male rock stars (mainly Robert Smith and Keith Flint), and LOTS of pictures of Brandon Lee from The Crow, with whom I have been obsessed since age 9.

One day, mom told me about a “joke” she made to my father; taking one look at my room covered in pictures of Brandon Lee, she said to him, “At least we know she’s heterosexual” It was the first time I wanted to speak up, to argue about it with someone. I didn’t care if people outside my family assumed one way or another, but I was so angry that my mom just jumped to a conclusion like that. My own mother - who enjoyed short hair and androgynous fashion, who herself had been “a lesbian in college.” She was the one that taught me that gender and sexuality were a fluid spectrum to begin with. I didn’t argue with her though; I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, I just knew she was wrong. I grew up watching The X-Files from day one - trading her love of David Duchovny for a deep interest with whatever Gillian Anderson was doing onscreen. Mom also took me to see The Fifth Element when it came out, and I have been in love with Milla Jovovich ever since. To this day, I have bonded with many of my male friends over these two female crushes. At this point in my life, I didn’t know if I was gay or bisexual. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with my cisgender female identity, or if I was something else. I just knew she was totally wrong. In this time also, I would say that Jane was my best friend. She was beautiful and looked exactly like Claire Danes in Stardust, which is crazy to me now, because she and I had been obsessed with Neil Gaiman’s works long before any movies and Stardust was always one of her favorites. It's impossible for me to watch the movie now without thinking of her.

So I was close to my best friend because we were weird kids. So I thought she was beautiful because she objectively was. So what? Was I gay for my best friend? Probably a bit but no more than is normal to be gay for your best friend. ... I mean, I think even heterosexual, same-sex besties should be a little gay for each other. That’s how close friendships work! This is a person you love so much that you have their back in 99% of situations, you would bury a body with, etc. You should think they’re attractive even if you don’t want to sleep with them yourself, you should enjoy their company often even if you don’t want to marry them yourself, you should love them enough that it doesn’t matter if people accuse you of being gay for them. Platonic love is still love, so even if that person is gay and you’re not, it doesn’t mean their love is romantic. What I’m building up to, dear audience, is the other shoe dropping. Jane’s “hippie” father didn’t like me. He was in the National Guard and had just come back from dealing with the aftermath of the war in Bosnia and living in Russia for a while. After Russia he was different; he bought Jane very sexy (for a fifteen-year-old), form-fitting dresses, dressed her up like a Barbie and became more strict at home. I remember her finding it distressing, but she liked fashion, so it seemed like the typical patriarchal tradeoff that my gender faces: If you want to have shiny objects bought for you, you have to obey the breadwinning man of the house. And then, in the midst of that, here came I, parading around their house with my strong sense of self, thanks to my '80s-influenced, genderfluid upbringing. How dare I waltz in there and preach the word of David Bowie to his little Stepford daughter? I, on the other hand, just knew that they were hippies, they were supposed to be into peace, love, unity; acceptance of other, races, cultures, and “free love.” I was just a kid, how was I supposed to realize her father was so threatened by my very presence in his daughter’s life? It was so long ago that I don’t quite remember if he accused me of being gay to my face, or if Jane relayed the questions he asked her about me when I wasn’t there. But I vividly remember uncomfortable dinners, where vague personal questions that would be downright unacceptable to ask a child today were posed to me. When I asked my mother what to do, she wrote Jane's father off as “an asshole,” because she was familiar with the type of man he was. She told me to just stop going over there. But then how was I supposed to hang out with my best friend? Well, in truth, after that I didn’t really. She would have to make the effort to hang out with me at mine, or I’d just see her at school. But in truth, she totally checked out of the friendship after that. She put her head down and concentrated on getting good grades in school like she was serving a sentence in jail. I knew she had always wanted to make costumes, but after that time, she suddenly needed to get better grades as her father wanted her to become a lawyer or something related. (Eventually, she ended up making costumes after all) In April of 1999, right before I graduated from 8th grade, something happened that would change my life - and the country - forever: the Columbine school shooting. At the time, the only story we were told was that the shooters were goths, and they shot up the school because they were being bullied by jocks. (We now know that it was the other way around, the shooters were also the bullies.) And here I was, a baby goth and a genderqueer “lesbian” in a school full of rich, preppy jocks. The media perpetuated the “us vs them” situation, magnifying the underlying misconceptions and misjudgment. To be honest, I probably would not have gone to Westlake high school in any case, but Columbine sealed the deal. My mom and I loved watching Heathers, and I knew a similar environment awaited me at Westlake. Fortunately, it was around this time that I became acquainted with another Cuernavaca kid who was in the grade above me, Maria Russo. She was out as a lesbian or bisexual (I don’t remember which exactly as they were essentially the same thing in that environment) and was the only other goth girl in school. She wore ripped fishnets and dog collars and was obsessed with both Rocky Horror Picture Show and mermaids. She told me she wasn't going to Westlake either and that I should join her at this cool, hippie high school she found, The Griffin School. So even though I was only 14, I told my parents I was not going to go to arguably the best public school in the city, and that instead they were going to work together to send me to this weird, small private school for artsy kids. I was always a good student, except for middle school and I blame that on everyone being more concerned about social status than actually learning anything. That’s the irony of privilege, nobody appreciated the educational resources they had they just cared whether or not my clothes were from the Gap. I sold my parents on sending me to Griffin because of my grades suffering, the fact that my best friend and I had drifted apart, and then Columbine making the world more dangerous for goth kids really sealed the deal... The backlash meant that my safety was more severely threatened by the clothes I put on everyday, which I had been wearing for years already. I attended Griffin for all four years of high school and had one of the rarest experiences for a teen - I thoroughly enjoyed every year of high school. And it wasn’t because I was popular and peaked in high school either. I felt my sense of self was respected, my sexuality or gender identity wasn’t a concern to the staff or to the other parents. Also, I made excellent grades. I have since reconnected with several of my middle school friends that attended different high schools. But I never saw or spoke to Jane again.

Adulthood

As an adult, I identify as Bisexual. There is a myth that bisexuality excludes being attracted to people of non-binary orientation because you are attracted to "males OR females." The way I see it, the "bi" in bisexual refers to both ends of sexuality as a spectrum between heterosexual relationships and homosexual relationships. The stuff in between is undefined but included.

Many of the people who would have been considered Bisexual in the '90s identify as Pansexual today. That’s fine, but I’m not going to do that. I’ve considered myself bisexual since puberty; I don’t see the point in rebranding my sexuality now when I know what I mean by it, and that’s all that matters. But I think the reason Bisexuality split off into Pansexuality is that Bisexual is still a four letter word in the gay community. It’s better than it used to be, but there’s still this feeling that we’re not gay enough.

I once talked to a Pansexual who said she has been attracted to all kinds of things, including trees. And I thought, first, "that’s very interesting," and second, "I definitely don’t identify as that." This makes it hard to be a loud and proud bisexual; I don’t hide it, but I’ve kept it private for a reason. In the past, when a lesbian I had just met (at a party) asked me about my sexuality and I said I was bi. She then interrogated me about my gay experiences in a way that made me very uncomfortable. I finally interrupted her by shouting - “I don’t have to tell you anything!” - I didn’t know her, and it was none of her business. I got defensive because it took me by surprise, both, I suppose, because I expected more from another member of the queer community, and because it triggered memories of those uncomfortable dinners with Jane’s father. But the great thing about being an adult is that peer pressure isn’t real. No one can actually force you do anything you don’t want to do or tell them anything you don’t want to share simply by “putting pressure” on you to do their will. So I stick to the Bisexual label, partially out of resentment. I had to fight so hard to find this identity; I changed schools and lost one of my closest friends over it. I’m not going to stop being bisexual just because there are some mean girls in the gay community. And, in the end, I will always defend use of the term Bisexual: it was good enough for David Bowie, and he was a fucking Genderqueer alien. If the King/Queen of Genderqueer aliens Hermself feels included by this term, why wouldn’t I? Weirdness is a part of me right down to my sexuality and gender identity. I will always be attracted to the “others” of the world. In the end, I don’t belong in the gay clubs because I don’t like dancing to Beyonce, not because I’m not gay enough.

Although we’ve come a long way, people are still surprised if I mention that I’m not straight. Not every member of the queer community is an effeminate boy or a butch girl. Just because I look comfortable as a cisgender female doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle with my gender identity my entire childhood. I went to see Eddie Izzard do his standup act the other night, the first time since I’d seen him live in 2003. Towards the end he got heckled with something simultaneously misogynist and homophobic - “SHOW US YOUR TITS!” - and audible cringe swept over the audience as we began to boo. I thought, “WOW, He’s been out since the '80s, he’s so established and respected and famous now, and he still can’t get away from this stuff.” You never get away from it, there will always be a problem for someone. All you can hope for is a bigger, better group of people around you to boo on your behalf. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “wait this is your coming out story, when do you come out to your parents?” The truth is I didn’t. This blog entry, coming out to the general public, is the most coming out I’ve ever done. I didn’t have real relationships when I was in school, and I got married to a bisexual boy when I was 19, so it never came up. At the time, we were openly bisexual to each other but neither of us really had “the conversation” with our parents. He didn’t because they were British and, although I have no doubt they would have accepted him, Brits just didn’t talk about that stuff out loud. I used to think of him as choosing to be repressed, choosing to remain in the closet, but it’s only recently that I’ve realized that would mean I chose the same thing. I didn’t have “the conversation” with my parents because A) I wasn’t having relations under their roof either way; B) my “woke” mom had already assumed wrong, and I wasn’t close to my dad; and C) I felt it was none of their business. By the time I confirmed my sexuality, I was an adult, and they had no say in the matter anyway. That’s the million dollar question - if you know your parents accept and love you either way, do you need to have a conversation about it? Are you still in the closet even if you make no attempts to hide your sexuality or gender identity? Many of my clients are various degrees of queer and trans, going through their own complex struggles with all the emotional dust that Pride month kicks up. For example, those we have lost. ... I am again reminded of the recent void left behind by an older gay friend, the closest I had to a brother; we lost him in December to suicide shortly after he was diagnosed with advanced HIV. He was in his 40s and there appeared to be some form of denial coming from his family. Even though he was a fully grown adult, it seemed like he chose suicide over living as a “sick” person and having to address the facts with his family. Pride isn’t just about rainbow outfits and drag shows. Pride in the queer community is essential to survival. Lots of statistics prove this out in different ways; here’s just two of them: “LGB youth seriously contemplate suicide at almost three times the rate of heterosexual youth." And "LGB youth are almost five times as likely to have attempted suicide compared to heterosexual youth.” [source: The Trevor Project] If is that common as a teenager, do you think that changes when you grow up into a gay adult? Not necessarily. But I’m not going to end on a sad note. I have a lot of happy memories associated with Pride, too. My favorite part of living in Chicago in my early 20s was being a block away from Boystown, the gayberhood. The parade would come down our street, Broadway, off Belmont. For a few glorious hours the street was absolutely covered in rainbow confetti and glitter. Then as everyone moved indoors to drink and party, because Chicago is a proper city, the street sweepers would drive by and clean up all the litter like nothing ever happened. Below are some pictures from Chicago Pride 2005. That year was the first and only time I’ve ever seen RuPaul perform, way before Drag Race, when Supermodel was still his top hit. The Grand Marshal was Wilson Cruz, and, as a '90s latchkey kid who watched reruns of My So-Called Life with some of TV's first out gay teens, that was very exciting! (CW: this picture of the proud gay WWII vets makes me cry every time)

In the process of writing this blog, a client who came out to me as non-binary. It’s always exciting for my shop to be considered a safe space for people to come out before they deal with the complications of telling family, if they even tell their family. We related on a lot of the same levels. Being outright gay is difficult, being outright trans is difficult. ... But being nonbinary/bisexual can be difficult in a different way; it’s like flying under the radar, sometimes even to yourself. You’re not denying that part of you is 'other', but you know you’re not 'other enough' to be Grand Marshal of the Pride Parade. Especially for folks of my generation who grew up with the fashionable androgyny of the '80s/'90s. Then when you hit puberty and struggle with having a very feminine or masculine skewing body, it’s easy enough to fall back into binary fashion since those are the only clothes that are made to fit your body. This is one of the reasons there’s so many older people discovering this stuff about themselves now. Now we finally have language for the nuances of gender identity, so we’re all able to talk about it together. Strangely enough, these concepts are as old as mankind, the language is only new to the western culture. One of my favorite things to read about is the five gender system of Native American cultures: men, women, trans men, trans women, and nonbinary are all mentioned. {see this super-rad article here} In the end, though, when people ask me about my pronouns, I still don’t know what to say. I'll get that feeling like I'm taking a test I haven’t studied for. I’m still wired to be unconcerned with what people think of me, what they call me, but I’ll try to answer to the best of my understanding. I don’t feel entirely comfortable being a female or dressing femme. But I damn well love costumes, and I got comfortable with makeup early on in my childhood. So when people compliment my feminine aesthetics, I see it as being good at drag. Like high femme feels more like drag than when when I dress in androgynous or boyish looks. High femme is a lot of work but simultaneously (relatively) easy because I understand the programming I’ve been receiving since I was a little girl. Androgyny is easier and more comfortable for my brain but also more difficult to execute given the body I have and the way they make clothes for it. (I’m getting better though, I just got a binder by gc2b which I’m eagerly awaiting in the mail any day now!) Anyway, I’m comfortable with “she” as my pronoun - in the same way RuPaul is called “she” when in drag, even though he’s “he” when he’s just Charles, right? It’s like the same way I don’t care when someone gets my name wrong the first time they try to pronounce it. ... I don’t care what you call me, just as long as you see me. 20 years later and I’m still friends with Maria, who many of you will know as the mermaid Co-Owner of Cute Nail Studio - otherwise known as the Gayest Nail Studio in the city, state, possibly the country. I hope she knows how proud I am of her and how eternally grateful I will forever be for getting me out of Westlake. It was like she tossed me a big gay lifesaver when I needed it most. In the end I think the key is not being afraid, especially now, to talk about those things. Especially during Pride when so many different flavors of queer (and non-) come together to celebrate. Don't be afraid to talk about your own pathway, the unsureness you still might have, and the childhood experiences that made you realize you were born just a little weird. Stick together so that you don't feel isolated and don't settle for feeling like a group of one. REACH OUT to you brothers and sisters and siblings of no discernible gender and tell them you love them. Love people as an act of defiance. Walk tall with your strong sense of self.

#pride #gender #genderfluid #transgender #gay #lesbian #bisexual #androgyny #controversial fashion #vulnerability

[all-scout-blog]

The Audition

Thoughts on the single biggest chapter of my life thus far, drum corps.

The Audition

There are few times in a person’s life when a defining moment is so clear. When a literal crossroads becomes apparent and only after you have voyaged far down that path that you realize you have no idea what life would be like had you not.

For me, this moment is so abundantly clear. A major shift in the trajectory of my life began in a makeshift audition space squeezed between 5th and 6th grade classrooms in the hallway of a middle school in Franklin, Tennessee.

Here, a kid from small town Alabama had come to the outskirts of Nashville to audition for one of five spots…

For kids that grew up wanting to play baseball, the ultimate dream was to play in the MLB. Play under the bright lights and be regarded as a high caliber player and if he was any good,  be considered one of the greats. For kids that played football, it was the NFL. Basketball, the NBA. For kids that did marching band, that dream was DCI. Drum Corps International. That was me. That was my dream.

DCI is a funny thing to explain. It’s labeled as the major leagues of marching band, and yeah, that’s a pretty accurate description. He difference: sub the multi-million dollar contracts and ESPN primetime coverage for membership fees and some cool YouTube videos to show to your friends.

There are 150 members in any given group and looks like a typical marching band you might see at football halftime show. There are brass instruments, marching percussion and a color guard.

A season lasts around 8 months beginning with auditions in the winter and a 3 month tour in the summer traveling to shows across the country culminating with one final show and a winner is crowned.

I had spent months, perhaps even years preparing for this. A chance to what would diverge into what my life is now. I would travel across the country, gain some of my best friends and find my first love. I would have my soul and entire being break down and built back up into the mold of legends.

If my seventeen-year-old self had known this, I might have been even more nervous…

There are stories that my family always talks about when the subject of my drumming career comes up. Since time immemorial, I could be found sitting on the kitchen floor wooden spoons in my hands banging on the backs of pots and pans, making a racket. I would pencil invitations to solo concerts I was performing and stuff them in the mailboxes of my next-door neighbors, the venue being my bedroom.

My personal favorite is a great picture from Christmas. I’m wearing Santa Claus pajamas, sitting behind my first drum set. I was four.

Over the years, my interests in things rose and fell, but the passion for drums remained. It was the single coolest thing you could do. Drummers got the chicks, right?

I stuck with it, and in my own humble, I got pretty good. I pecked around upstairs in my bedroom when I was young, but by the time I was 12 my formal education in the art of percussion had begun. I began to read music. I was introduced to drumline ….fade in clip of fogue from ‘14 Madison…and I was learning rudimental concepts that could be applied the given music that marching required. It was a very different way of thinking and playing music that I really enjoyed.

I particularly latched on to the art of bass drumming. What was before this big bulbous thing that was given to the less than desirable players had now become something different. I had now seen the art of splitting- the act of five people playing syncopated rhythms to act as one instrument.

That was it, that was what I wanted to do, but I had to start somehow.

Back in the hallways of Freedom intermediate school, I was looking over my binder with the audition music in hand, nervous as hell and sizing up the other guys auditioning when I hear the door open. There she is. In walks what I could have swore to you was a girl at least two or three years older than me. She had a walk that professed confidence and grabbed my attraction and would not let go.

I started drumming to get the chicks, and here’s one right now, playing drums and I’ll be damn, but she might actually be better than me.

The other guys in the audition room suddenly became less interesting. I fumbled to move a seat and knocked some things over to try and get her to sit by me. Talking to her, we realized we were in the same boat. Her name was Emily, we were the same age and this was also her first audition. We sat together at lunch and at dinner. We exchanged numbers at the end of the auditions and kept in touch. We started dating. Two years later we decided the distance from my college to her college was too far.  She was the one that got away….To quote a favorite movie of mine “That’s all I have to say about that.”

I performed well at the auditions, but I still was unsure. Two days after camp I received an email from the corps director congratulating me on the offer for a spot in the bassline. I remember not even being able to compose a Facebook status I was so excited.

During the season that summer I would feel the ebb and flow of the season. I would practice in the hottest summer Tennessee had in years. 114 degrees with 90% humidity. I would get dehydrated, exhausted, and sleep deprived. I would my personal weaknesses and come out ahead.