#sorry for the late post to his birthday i thought it would be funnier if i waited longer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigbrainblue · 3 years

Text

19th birthday

It was late.

you don’t know how late, but late enough that you hadn’t heard a car pass in well over 20 minutes, the only light around was from the distance street lamps and the reflection of the moon on the ocean that stood before you. the only sound coming from the crickets in the hills, occasional wave crashing, and your own shallow breath.

currently you were sat on a beach. alone.

it was your birthday, you had come to the beach from your birthday party. a party to celebrate the day you were born 19 years ago.

the party was fine, but there sure as hell were a lot of people, way more than you would have liked

you knew people there, sure, but a good portion of the party was people you've never even heard of, just coming for a party and the booze.

you had arrived with your friends, a lot of them actually, you had just managed to lose them all one by one slowly as the night grew longer and as your vison started to blur.

the people you came with were your friends, Niki, will, toby, tom, clay, George, nick, and Alex.

you were having fun, drinking, walking around, socializing. but soon it became too much.

the drinking had made you obsess over every thought that came into your head.

you decided to take a break, have some fresh air, and now here you are. on a beach. alone. at night.

one of the thoughts your brain wouldn’t let go was about Alex, the boy you’ve known since junior year of Highschool. you two met when you decided to do a foreign exchange year in Mexico. it just so happened to be that the parents that decided to host you for a school year also were the parents of a teenage boy the same age as you, with straight black hair that stuck to the back of his neck and with freckles scattered around his face. over the next 9 months you guys became best friends, never leaving each others sides.

you didn't know it then, but you had fallen in love with this boy, this amazing beautiful smart caring boy.

but eventually you had to go home, but you guys never stopped talking.

Alex eventually started posting videos on YouTube, and not long after, streaming on twitch as well.

you watched him gain fame as you supported him at the sidelines, cheering him along the way.

at some point he convinced you to do it too. you spent long nights on calls with him, helping you set up your streams and giving you ideas for new YouTube videos.

with the help of Alex, you started to gain fame too, even passing him at one point.

through streaming and YouTube, you made so many friends, and yet none of them compared to Alex.

speaking of Alex, you wondered what he was doing, probably having the time of his life, drinking an hooking up with girls a bajillion times hotter than you

*A/N HI OK IM SORRY IF THAT PART SOUNDED MEAN I PROMISE IT ADDS TO THE STORY OK BYE*

you laughed quietly at yourself thinking about how stupid it was to think that you could pull a guy like Alex.

just then you heard it.

a familiar voice from behind you, “what’s so funny?”

you looked back startled and confused

‘Alex? what are you doing out here?”

“well y/n I could ask the same thing to you, its your party, i noticed you were gone, so I went looking for you. as simple as that”

“i got overwhelmed in there, I'm sorry. i just needed some fresh air”

“ its ok, don't apologize for something you cant control. can I sit?”

“nope” you said sarcastically, hoping he would get the joke

“too bad!” he said, plopping himself right next to you in the sand

you giggled at his humor

neither of you said anything, it wasn't awkward silence, you two had known each other long enough that sometimes, it was nice to just enjoy the company of the other person beside you in silence.

and yet, suddenly Alex said something.

“have you been crying? there's dried tear streaks along the sides of your face”

you turned your head towards his and whipped the sides of you face, seeing that he was already looking at you, studying you and your facial expression.

“i guess. if I did, I didn't notice.”

“how did you not notice yourself crying? that sounds like something very noticeable” he said, putting an emphasis on the very,

you laughed, probably harder than you should have.

he smiled, happy to see you happy

“do you wanna talk about it? why you were crying?”

“no, well, not here at least-” you said gesturing your hands at the ocean

“plus, there's sand getting in my ass” you added on to your previous sentence

Alex laughed and agreed, standing up and brushing off hi pants, and then handing out a hand for you to grab as he pulled you up.

you also brushed yourself off, and you weren't lying, cause man was there a lot of sand in your ass.

he started walking away from you and as you caught up with him you asked,

“where are we going?”

“you’ll see, its a great place, I promise you will love it”

you followed Alex to his car as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“how romantic” you commented as you climbed into his car. poking fun at him

as he got into the car he plugged his phone into the aux cord, playing a song you had heard a couple times, but would have never expected for Alex to listen to it, it just didn't seem like the type of music he would like.

he set his phone down face up as the screen flashed up at you as he put the car into gear and pulled out into the street

you saw the title of the song he was playing, “Falling For U” by Peachy ft Mxmtoon, and his wallpaper, a photo of you two from junior year. both standing next to each other awkwardly as his mom made you guys take a photo together on the first day you got there. you wondered how long it had been his wallpaper for.

you laughed and asked him about his wallpaper

“i mean you gotta admit, we look extremely sexy in that photo. especially me”

this comment from Alex made you break out laughing, even harder than before, as he started to hum along with the lyrics of the song. joined with him actually saying a line out loud every once in a while

it was a peaceful drive, Alex played more lofi songs as you stared out the widow.

eventually he pulled the car into an empty parking lot of a small gas station

“is this the place?” you questioned

“nope, just a pit stop.” he said

you both went inside, grabbing snacks and drinks and piling them into the back of the car. Alex making you wait to open them until you two got to your final destination

eventually, the car rolled into a another small empty parking lot, except this one was made of dirt and was a lot higher up.

Alex had pulled the car to the edge of the parking lot, as you finally got to see why he brought you here,

you looked through the windshield to find a view of the entire city.

you gasped in awe as you looked towards Alex, who, again, was already looking at you.

this time he wasn't studying you, he was admiring you.

you blushed, but pushed it off.

you and him both got out of the car so you guys could grab the snacks and the blankets he had in the back of his car.

he hopped onto the hood of his car and you joined him.

you starred into the sky full of stars above you.

you gasped as you pointed out a shooting star passing over head

“what did you wish for, Alex?”

“i cant tell you or else it wont come true”

“well then couldn't you wish the opposite of what you want to come true and then tell someone so the opposite comes true?”

“you're so stupid-” he said jokingly as he laughed.

“so, do you want to talk about why you were crying earlier, or is this still not the right spot” Alex chuckled at his own joke

“yes but, I have a question first”

Alex hummed in response, curious of what the question could be

“do you believe in love at first sight?”

you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn't divert your eyes from the stars above.

“do you remember the first time that we met? at the airport when my mom forced us to hug and take that god awful photo together, and when we ended up playing tictactoe in the car for an hour while we drove to my house?”

“yes? of course i do, that was simultaneously the worst and best day of my life. but that doesn't answer my question dumbass” you said, still not giving into his gaze onto side of your head.

“I think I just did, did I not?”

it finally clicked, him looking for you at the party, the song in the car, the story

you turned your head to meet his gaze, finally giving in

he sat up and dramatically grabbed his chest, pretending to have been stabbed in the heart, enacting a theatrical performance

“y/n m/n l/m, i am dying, and you must know, that I am in LOVE with you!” he dramatically gasped and fall back down., pretending to be dead.

you played along as you gasped and put the pack of your hand on your forehead as you spoke

“oh my dear Alex, I love you too, and now you will never get to know how much i loved you” you faked sobbed onto his chest

“maybe a true loves kiss will help save him” he whispered, making the scene even funnier and causing both of you to bust out laughing

“ah yes, the only way to save my prince, a true loves KISS!” you said before coming down and kissing Alex on the lips.

he sat up with a loud gasp

“I am alive! a kiss of true love saved me!” you giggled beside him as you watched him play out his Oscar-winning performance

“may I kiss you again m’lady? for saving my life of course.” he questioned

“of course, you can kiss me anytime m’lady” you said back, pulling him into a deeper kiss

he pulled way first before speaking

“WAIT DID YOU JUST CALL ME M’LADY?

#quackity #y/n #x y/n #mcyt #dsmp #alex quackity #quackity fluff #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x reader fluff #i dont know what other tags to put

106 notes · View notes

1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years

Text

🎈 Sun 26 April 🚜

It can be hard to know what is real in these confusing and surreal times, and I'm sorry to tell you that today's update will offer no relief but only more disorientation. First of all, Liam Payne is now a YouTuber! For actual reals, in this (allegedly) non AU life. He released the first of a weekly YouTube roundup of what he's been up to and a meme review with a focus on Liam memes (Liam as teacups!), I love it. He starts off the meme review with a post from a ziam url, and not content to simply say it comments besides: "that's a very tired Liam and Zayn fan" (referring, one assumes, to the lack of public content for the last, well you know. Like five years.) We learned that Liam doesn't know how to say plaid (???) and can't remember whether TMH or UAN came first, that Louis said if you mention ME again (not the anniversary stuff) I'll egg your house which makes Liam mentioning it (twice) even funnier, poor Louis, and he invited people to send him memes of him for future episodes which is a very bold request, yikes, but all right then! Looking forward to next week!

Gigi ended the Zayn or Not Zayn birthday picture debate (or diddddd she) by posted a video showing Zayn with her at her Pennsylvania farm, reinforcing the articles the other day saying that he had been isolating there. He has his own farm nearby where he often holes up even when it isn't mandated, he could have traveled from the UK, or the stopped clocks that are the tabloids being fed well timed puff pieces might even be correct, but if you prefer to take things up a notch, you may be interested to know that some think the video is faked and it isn't Zayn at all! There's also the moderate wing of that same school of thought that don't go that far but think it was videoed at a different time.

An old rumor about Harry playing Mick Jagger in a biopic that may or may not exist (Harry on the topic in 2017, channeling the 2020 mood: "I don't even think that's a real thing") has resurfaced, with a twist: Kendall as Bianca Jagger! This is likely being made up by hendall shippers who have really been out of control lately (ie: 'leaking Harry's address' but actually it was Kendall's address to try to make people think he was staying with her, actual result, you fucking real life doxxed someone you absolute creep) but I find it interesting because while I do believe Harry and Kendall are pals, that being more public lately in spite of the fact that I don't think there's any intention of them pretending to date again has been noticeable: a project together would make sense. That fact alone probably means it isn't what's going on but you know. Whatever. News is slow I can start reporting random nonsense again, why not: nothing is really real anyway!

Meanwhile, Niall was shirtless on main, again, tweeted Trump, and has decided he wants to delegate making a playlist of his thirty day song challenge ("I hope someone is doing it for me" YES I WILL be screenshotting that for a reaction and using it forever), but he did make a poppy 'Stay Home' playlist for Claro Music Mexico.

187 notes · View notes

bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

“Happy Thirteenth Birthday” || YEAR 3 – Ch.1 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 7/10/2020

Word count: 3,409

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

-----

A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

-----

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

It was blazing hot inside and outside the house, under every tree and bush, and sometimes even the cold tap water came out warm. There was no escaping the summer heat and the best Heather could do to cool off, was shower with one of Dudley’s old shirts – the stupid ones with the sleeves torn off – and sit in the empty tub waiting for the water to evaporate off her body.

Her arm and head hung off the tub’s rim as she waited a bit longer to dry off. Her wand sat on the counter next to the sink, and her old toothbrush a few feet away on Aunt Petunia’s nice lime green bath rug. Heather extended her arm and curled her fingers, willing the toothbrush over to her.

She used the same techniques as she would moving a spider from one place to another without touching it. She thought and thought and imagined the toothbrush sliding over to her. There was a jiggle, but that was all.

She wasn’t sure if she plainly couldn’t do it or if she was just too afraid to. Moving spiders was one thing, after all she had been moving spider without touching them since first year, and she suspected that when she was younger and saw them crawling above her head, they did not actually jump to Harry’s side on their own.

She dried off and put the toothbrush under the sink, in the only area her and Harry were allowed to keep their things. She walked into her shared room and fell onto the mattress on the floor, listening to Harry groan and complain about their history of magic homework.

“This is taking forever and it’s so boring,” he poked his head over the edge, “Let me read yours.”

She flicked his ear, “Do. Your. Work.”

He rubbed his ear and went back to reading, “You know the longer I take on my homework, the higher the chance they’ll catch us with our books.”

Heather sat up, “Then do your work faster.”

She was afraid Harry was developing a nasty habit of having Hermione do his work for him. They had picked the locks and gotten their books within the first week of being back, which by now would have been plenty of time to finish most essays, but Harry had only managed to finish their potions one and only out of pure fear.

It was late now, passed late dinners for most normal families, and they prepared for their nightly inspection before sleep. Heather helped Harry pop a floorboard out and stuffed all their magical everything inside it before patting it shut. It was the only place they could hide their things without the Dursleys snooping around – especially Dudley who loved getting them into trouble.

They stood up and leaned against the wall as Uncle Vernon’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs, thunderous and slow. Without knocking – as if trying to catch them by surprise – he swung the door open and gave them disappointed looks when he saw they were already in their places. He stepped in, looked around the room for anything out of place and ‘odd’, eyed them carefully, and stepped back out, locking them in for the night.

They groaned and sat back down on the bed hearing the Durley’s nightly routine of saying goodnight to Dudley. Uncle Vernon always gave him the usual one-time goodnight, while Aunt Petunia kept coming back to say goodnight every time she crossed his bedroom door. Heather wasn’t sure how Dudley could stand constantly being interrupted by her as he tried to get settled into bed.

Her footsteps sounded closer as she approached their bedroom door, banging on it hard with the palm of her hand, “BREAKFAST NEEDS TO BE DONE BY EIGHT TOMORROW,” and walked back, giving Dudley her final goodnight and shut her bedroom door closed.

That was their cue to let Hedwig out of her cage for the night. There weren’t any bars on their bedroom window this time and they had promised not to do any magic in the house – not that they’d be willing to risk getting expelled – so for five weeks now, things were only slightly better than their last summer.

“I’m calling her,” Harry got off the bed and took out his parchment and quill again from the floorboard.

“Do you want them punishing us AGAIN for calling wizards? I like our window just fine without bars up and – ” Heather tapped her foot, knowing Harry’s ankle was still hurting from all the extra yard work they had to do the last time Ron called. “You’ll get caught and I’ll make you do MY HALF of the punishment.”

Harry shook his head and pushed past her, kneeling down and picking the locks to their bedroom door, freeing them from their enclosure. They crept down the stairs together – recently she had started to feel she should be keeping a closer eye on him – and sat down at the counter’s swivel stools next to the phone.

Harry picked up the phone quietly and dialed Hermione’s number from memory. He waited a few minutes and then, “Hermione? Yeah, will you read me your history of magic essay? …Well don’t you have any time before you leave?”

Heather rolled her eyes, “Harry you need to do the essay yourself. She isn’t gonna – ”

“Oh, hold on,” he dipped his quill in ink and held it to the parchment, “Can you start from the beginning again?”

Heather smacked her face quietly.

“Oh?” Harry looked up at the time, “Thanks. Hold on,” he handed the phone to Heather.

“Hermione?”

“I CAN’T believe you’ve forgotten your own birthday! Happy birthday!” Hermione clapped into the phone.

“Oh?” Heather squinted at the glowing time on the stove.

It was ten minutes after twelve which meant they were officially thirteen now.

“Thanks for remembering. No one else did,” she laughed quietly.

“That’s not true! Go hang up right now and be at your window. They should be arriving by now. Happy birthday and talk to you soon! Oh and tell Harry if he calls I won’t be here. Bye!” Hermione hung up.

She handed the phone back and dragged Harry away, who still needed eleven more inches to his essay. They crept back up the stairs and relocked the door behind them. The window was open and a nice cool breeze was drifting in but there was still not one sign of Hedwig, who had been gone for three days now.

“D’you see anything?” Harry leaned further out the window, looking in all directions over the roofs of the other houses.

Heather squinted up at the moon, noticing a weird lumpy flying spec, “Uh, what’s that?”

Harry pulled her back away from the window as the lumpy object got closer and closer, heading right in their direction. Whatever creature it was, it must be magical, there was no doubt in Heather’s mind about that. No muggle bird was that jittery in the sky. It swooped in through the window and crashed on the bed.

Heather snorted and covered her mouth, afraid to have laughed too loud, “I thought it was some beast.”

Hedwig, Errol, and a third owl stood on their parcels – Errol was collapsed over his – and gave small hoots of triumph. Heather thought it was funny that the other two owls had to help Errol with his parcel and even funnier because Errol’s was given the largest package of the three.

They took the packages and the new owl stretched and flew out the window. Hedwig and Errol left to rest in Hedwig’s cage, watching Heather and Harry sit on the bed to read what was from who. They opened the larger parcel, reading that it was from the Weasleys.

There were several birthday cards, one from each Weasley member and for each of them. To Heather, Percy wrote that he hoped her studying was going well while to Harry he wrote that he hoped he was studying. Fred and George sent over stinky leaves for the both of them to put under Dudley’s pillows, Ginny had written a very neat “Happy Birthday, Harry. From, Ginny Weasley” and to Heather she wrote:

‘To: Happy Birthday

From: Ginny

Heather.’

Heather laughed and tucked the card under her pillow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent them a birthday card as well with several pieces of Egyptian candy stuck on somehow, and two newspaper clippings, one of a family picture of them in Egypt – Ron was now taller than Mrs. Weasley, and was holding up Scabbers, and Ginny was just as tall as her, though to be fair all the Weasleys were much taller than the average student at Hogwarts – and the other clipping Harry took.

He scanned it, “Lucky them. I guess Mr. Weasley won the Daily Prophet Galleon Draw.”

Heather took the clipping, “Wow… Oh I didn’t know Bill was a curse breaker… is that… Dark Arts stuff?”

Harry shrugged, “You know… We have all that money sitting in our vault – ”

Heather shushed him, “I know what you’re thinking and NO. Absolutely not we aren’t spending that money for anything other than school! And that’s final.”

Harry scoffed but didn’t argue. They read the last two cards from Ron, which they could barely read with his scribbly handwriting.

Heather took it and tried her best, “‘Happy Birthday’ … ‘ Sorry I shouted when I called and got you guys in trouble’ … ‘Getting a new wand in London last week of summer, hope to see you two there’ … ‘Percy’s Head Boy’ … ‘ Enjoy your gift. Sorry I could only get one’ … and then I think it says ‘Pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s anyone untrustworthy around, it’ll spin and glow.’”

Harry unwrapped the last Weasley gift from Ron and pulled out the Pocket Sneakoscope. It didn’t glow or spin, which they supposed was good and hoped it wasn’t just broken or anything. Next, they moved on to the parcel Hedwig had brought in, reading that it was from Hermione.

Heather opened the letter, “She says… She’ll be in France soon and won’t be able to answer the phone for a month.” Heather ignored Harry’s groans, “And that the presents are by ‘owl-order’ and… That she hopes to see us last week of holidays too.”

They opened the presents which were two Broomstick Servicing Kits and gasped.

“Ok, we need to get Hermione a good birthday present this year. These are – ”

“Wow,” Harry opened it up and started going through it.

“We still have this one.” Heather cut the twine holding two rectangle packages and a note from Hagrid. “‘Happy Birthdays! You’ll be needing this for next year, you’ll see. Your friend, Hagrid.’”

Harry took a package and dropped it as soon as it growled, “Heather… Hagrid knows not to send us anything dangerous… right?”

Heather shook her head. She picked up the other package and felt it move slightly and growl like the other one had, “Harry you open yours. We shouldn’t open them both.”

Harry nodded and tore at the top, ripping the brown paper apart and sliding the object out. It was a book, with fur all around it, except for the shiny green letters spelling ‘The Monster Book of Monsters’. Heather and Harry tilted their heads to read the title when two eyes on the front popped up and stared at them evil-y.

It lunged at Heather’s knees and she jumped from the bed, allowing the book to scuttle under the pillowcase. Harry picked their pillow up and swatted the book creature off the bed, hearing it growl and bite at something under the dresser.

“Surround it with boxes!” Heather pointed at Aunt Petunia’s storage boxes taking up part of their room.

Together they pushed and trapped it under the drawer where it would stay until they could write to Hagrid to ask him what on earth he was thinking sending them that thing. She couldn’t imagine what people could actually read it without having their fingers and noses bit clean off.

They sat on the bed panting and gathering up their things. They shoved all the scrap paper in their drawer and opened up the floorboard again to put their presents in where Uncle Vernon would never look.

“Well, happy birthday and goodnight,” Heather collapsed on the mattress.

“Happy thirteenth and night.”

She yawned and went straight to sleep, dreaming of going back to Hogwarts where she could practice all the magic she wanted, far away from the Dursleys. That night not even the owl’s hoots woke them up and they slept soundly until Aunt Petunia unlocked the door in the morning and told them to get going on breakfast while she showered.

They took out all the normal stuff the Dursleys liked to eat: eggs, bacon, sausage links, waffles, and toast. She didn’t know why or how they could manage to eat so much for breakfast, even Harry and her didn’t have an appetite so early in the morning and they were always hungry when they were here. One or two sausages went missing from the pan to the table but overall, they managed to stack several plates high for Uncle Vernon and Dudley – Petunia liked just toast.

There was tapping on the kitchen window and Harry pulled back the curtains to greet an owl with two letters in its beak. Harry took them and handed one to Heather, seeing it was addressed to each of them with a Hogwarts seal.

Heather opened hers, eagerly anticipating the class materials list, and took out a permission slip of some sort with a letter from Professor McGonagall. “We can visit Hogsmeade this year?”

Harry groaned, “But only if we get Vernon or Petunia to sign this… How’re we going to get them to do that?”

“We can fake their signatures?” Heather leaned in closer to whisper, “I don’t think the teachers would be able to tell, do you?”

He shook his head. Aunt Petunia came down and they both hid the letters under their clothes, having to keep up the pretenses that Hogwarts and all things magical never existed. They would never sign a permission slip form for them to go to a wizards only village, not in a million years would they allow it. Heather sat down next to Harry to share a plate of their pre-cooked breakfast that Aunt Petunia always makes for them the night before.

Uncle Vernon came down next, sitting in his usual seat, followed by Dudley who went straight to turning on his new tv that sat on the counter. None of them looked at the twins, nor acknowledged their existence, let alone the fact that they were now technically thirteen years old.

Heather began eating the terribly cooked oatmeal and joined Harry in taking some toast since all three Dursleys were transfixed on the morning news reports on the tv. The reporter was sitting at his desk, shuffling papers, and pointing at a picture of a deranged man.

“A convict has escaped, believed to be armed and dangerous, last week. If you have any information, please call this number,” the numbers flashed on the screen and the reporter went on with other news.

“He should be fairly easy to spot,” Uncle Vernon laughed, “A filthy criminal with a rat’s nest on his head walking around town,” he chuckled, “Yes, I should think they’ll catch him in no time.”

“That’s what happens to lazy good-for-nothings who never bothered to even go to school,” Aunt Petunia scooped out some grapefruit and made a face, “They have nowhere else to turn to but petty crime. They’re useless to society – ”

“I couldn’t agree more, dear,” Uncle Vernon eyed Heather and Harry over his newspaper.

“Where did he escape from?” Heather risked the question, seeing as it was her and Harry always tasked with taking out the trash at night and early mornings.

Uncle Vernon rolled his eyes at her and opened his mouth but nothing came out. He looked at his wife who was looking wide-eyed at him and Dudley. “Son, did you hear where that lunatic escaped from?”

Dudley shoved a whole bacon slice in his mouth and shook his head, his eyes still transfixed on the television.

“Vernon! He could be anywhere!”

“Maybe he’s hiding on our street,” Harry hid a smile.

Heather kicked him under the table, seeing how nastily Uncle Vernon looked at him. Aunt Petunia looked over out the window, as if the man really could be walking up their street that second, not that she’d mind calling the number herself. She’d finally make it on the news and have gossip for all her neighborhood friends.

Uncle Vernon looked at his watch and finished his tea, folding up the newspaper and stood. “Well, I’ll be back with Marge in thirty minutes.”

Heather and Harry looked at each other suddenly.

“Aunt Marge? She’s-She’s staying? Here?” Harry tried to keep his face looking as unemotional as possible, but his bouncing leg gave him away.

“For a week or is that a problem?” he growled. “Think you have a say on what goes on around in my house, do you?”

Aunt Petunia put her hands to her hips and Dudley finally looked away from the tv, hoping to see the twins get yelled at. Heather and Harry shook they heads and looked away.

“Let me remind you both,” he pointed his finger at them, “You will not talk to Marge unless spoken to. And WHEN speaking to her, you will be nothing short of civilized!” He came closer, “And no funny business, understand?”

Heather nodded and expected Harry to do the same, but he didn’t.

Instead he looked back at Uncle Vernon, “I’ll be civil if she is.”

If it hadn’t been for the time, Harry would have had an earful. Uncle Vernon huffed and continued, “You go to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys,” he said to Harry, “and you go to St. Mary’s Etiquette Academy for Disorderly Girls,” he said to Heather.

She bit back her tongue and nodded, pushing oatmeal with her spoon. She wanted nothing more than to leave this house and go straight to Hogwarts. Why couldn’t they stay summers there? Surely Hogwarts would be able to accommodate two students and Hagrid would be happy for the company.

Uncle Vernon walked to the door and looked for the correct car keys. Harry had been glaring at his food when he suddenly looked at Heather and bolted out of his chair, running to the door. Heather turned and watched with dread at what Harry was attempting.

“There’s a permission slip Heather and I need signed,” he motioned for Heather to approach. “To visit a village near our school.”

Uncle Vernon laughed, “Why would I sign that?”

“To make sure we follow your rules.”

Uncle Vernon was about to yell at Harry’s audacity to take control when Heather quickly interjected.

“What he means is… It can get hard for us to remember so many details… Maybe with this incentive… What was the name of my school again?”

“St. Brutus’s and St. Mary’s,” he snarled.

“We might accidently let something slip,” Harry shrugged.

Heather almost smacked her head, thinking Harry was laying it on too thick for their good.

“Then you might accidently get the stuffing knocked out of you both!” he grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open.

“And hope Aunt Marge just forgets what we say?”

Heather gave him wide eyes, warning him to quit and abort mission while he could.

Uncle Vernon closed the door slowly, “If you two act like normal children for ONCE… I will sign your ruddy slips. But,” he growled, “I will be monitoring your behavior and if ANYTHING odd happens even slightly, no matter how miniscule, you’ll BOTH be sleeping outside for the rest of summer AND your slips won’t be signed.” He opened the door once more and slammed it shut behind him.

Harry smiled at Heather, “Well that solves it.”

She frowned at him, “Yeah, and now if anything happens we’ll be camping outside until school starts!”

“What could happen,” he grinned and ran upstairs.

She couldn’t believe he had already forgotten last summer with Dobby, or the one before that with the snake. His optimism was dangerous… but contagious. She sighed and ran after him, sparing him a much needed lecture on life and unfortunate events.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

<-- Last chapter Next chapter -->

-----

@lokilover-39

@halcyonrogers

@krazykatkay456

@lady-of-black-roses

@writingmi

-----

#harry potter #severus snape x reader #severus snape x oc #severus x oc #severus x reader #snape x oc #snape x reader #heather potter #pro snape #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

17 notes · View notes

godknowsivefalleninlove · 5 years

Text

Joger Week, Day 1: Soulmates

yeah this is half a day late, what the fuck are you gonna do about it? okay this was supposed to be a lot shorter and funnier and actually have more Roger but then John decided he wanted to be the center of attention so here it is. I might do a companion piece with Roger later to balance it out. Okay I’m done rambling so enjoy ig????

When you turned ten, your soulmate’s first words to you appeared on your arm. John had no clue what his would be, but didn’t really care much to know growing up. The way he saw it, it would happen whether he wanted it to or not, so it was easier to just put it out of mind until it happened. But now that the day was tomorrow morning he was a little anxious, which was unfortunate. It would be nice if it appeared at midnight, but no, it would appear when it was ready.

Tomorrow he’d be forced to deal with as many friends and family his mother could fit into the house and it only added to his stress. He didn’t get much sleep that night, and was exhausted the next morning as he helped his mom and sister set up for the party. His mom had begged to see his arm as soon as she saw him this morning, but didn’t seem disappointed to see that it was still bare.

“We have all day, sweetheart. I’m sure it will show up eventually.”

That’s what the day was full of, really. People would beg to see his arm, then tell him their stories of seeing their soulmate’s first words. As the day wore on, his exhaustion got worse, and he eventually dozed off on the couch, only to be awoken by the sensation of his arm burning. He immediately dashed off to the bathroom so that he’d be the first to see. He paced around the bathroom, trying to build up the courage to look at his arm. Eventually he managed to sit down, and with shaky hands he managed to slide his sleeve and look at his arm.

‘Man, I can’t believe Voldemort found out Snape really was a double agent and killed him.’

There it was, a spoiler for one of the biggest book series currently on his arm in black ink. He just barely managed not to swear.

He covered his arm again before opening the door to his mom standing there.

“Well, what’s it say?”

At that moment, he realized that his mother, as much as he loved her, would definitely post his soulmate’s first words everywhere, spoiling Harry Potter for dozens, if not hundreds of kids. He knew he had to do what was right.

He shook his head.

“Nothing, yet.”

He knew she was disappointed, but was doing her best not to show it, and he appreciated it.

“Well, there’s still about five hours left in the night, you have time.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, of course.”

She continued on her way to the kitchen as he made his way back to the party. The night went on, and everyone eventually left. His mother checked in on him once more, and he shook his head.

As far as his mother knew, his soulmate mark didn’t come that night. Or the next. Two weeks passed before she insisted on taking him to the doctors. However, they were able to reassure her that although rare, some people didn’t get their marks until much later.

(It help that he explained to them that he had actually gotten it, but it contained sensitive information that he couldn’t tell her about.)

They told them that as long as it arrived before his eighteenth birthday he would be fine. And so, the years passed. His mother was uneasy but accepting of his lack of a soul mark, though she secretly feared it was her own fault until Julie got hers a few years later. After that she relaxed a bit more, only asking on his birthday if it appeared yet. Meanwhile, John got used to covering it with long sleeve shirts in the colder months and foundation during the (slightly) warmer months, thanks to his best friend Veronica.

Somehow, he managed to keep the secret until the release of Deathly Hallows the July before his last year of sixth form. He spent nearly four days reading the book, breathing a sigh of relief when he finished. He’d spent nearly six years keeping one of the biggest twists in the Harry Potter books all to himself, and to finally have it off his shoulders was a relief. Enthused, he sat with his mom to discuss some things.

“So, Mom, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s really important that you just hear me out, okay?”

She nodded calmly, and he continued.

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always felt different. I didn’t know whatit was. Well, until about two years ago. What I’m trying to say is… Well, I’m gay.”

His mom nodded.

“Yeah, I know. Now what did you have to tell me?”

He was caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

She smiled and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m your mother, sweetheart. Of course I knew.”

He happily returned the hug.

“What’s next? Are you finally going to show me your soulmate mark?”

He looked up, truly surprised.

“You knew about that?”

She laughed.

“Of course. You missed a spot in the cover-up a few years ago. I figured that if you were hiding it from me, it was important.”

He nodded, sighing in relief.

“Yeah.”

He slid up his sleeve, and she read it before gasping.

“You’ve been keeping this to yourself for six years?”

He nodded.

“Almost.”

She hugged him tighter.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry! I know how much you hate spoilers…”

He grinned, just listening to his mother talk. He loved her, he really did.

When John stepped out of the dark light of the movie theater, there were two things on his mind: his paper that he needed to finish for tomorrow, and the end of an era. Specifically, the true end of Harry Potter. While the last book had come out four years ago, he had just finished the last movie. He’d began the series as a six year old, and he was coming out on the other side a man of twenty. And though it had been his burden to bear to know Snape’s true fate, it was one he had carried-

“Man, I can’t believe Voldemort found out Snape really was a double agent and killed him.”

He spun around, furious. He knew those words!

“You! It’s you!”

The blonde man turned around slowly, shock evident on his face.

“I thought I’d be hearing those words in a different context.”

John was too upset to notice the gorgeous stranger’s looks, instead strolling up to him and jabbing him in the chest.

“Do you know how long I had to keep that a secret! Nearly six years! I didn’t even show my mother until after I’d read the final book.”

The other man gently grabbed his hand.

“I guess I’ll have to start making it up to you. How does coffee sound?”

John grumbled, and he laughed.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t quite hear that.”

John looked down into his frankly gorgeous eyes.

“I’m more of a tea person, really.”

The blonde nodded and released him.

“Tea it is, then. I’m Roger, by the way.”

He offered his hand, and John shook it.

“I’m John.”

#Queen #queen fanfiction #john deacon #john deacon fanfiction #roger taylor #roger taylor fanfiction #dealor #jogerweek2019 #my fic

18 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

In My Mind 01 (Katlaska) - Miss Sugar Pink

A/N: Hello! This is my first time posting here so please be nice to me ⊂((・▽・))⊃ This is basically a soulmate AU where most people earn a soulmark anywhere on their body as soon as they reach their 13th birthday– their soulmark being the first words their soulmate will tell them after earning the said mark.

I can’t remember where I first found that soulmate AU prompt but once I find it, I’ll properly credit it later! Depending on the feedback this fic gets, of course! While this fic has been tagged as Katlaska, it also has a lot of Shalaska in it. But the main focus here is still Katlaska!

Since this is an AU, some of the queens’ backgrounds have been slightly altered to fit the theme.

Also, English isn’t my first language so please bear with me!

“When you meet the other half of your soul, you’ll understand why things didn’t work out with anyone else.” - Jill Blakeway

Brian doesn’t exactly have a definite standpoint in terms of soulmates, but he does find the soulmark on his leg just a downright inconvenience— especially considering the fact that he’s a drag queen who takes pride in showing off his thighs. As if it doesn’t take him long enough beating his face with layers and layers of cosmetics, he still has to put forth more time and effort in trying to conceal the ridiculous words on his skin. He takes one last good look at the curvy writing on his right thigh, his brows drawn together in a disapproving scowl, before reaching over for the pair of jeans that lies alone on the bed.

Just right from the other side of wall, he could hear his neighbor still watching what he could assume is The Golden Girls. Whoever the hell they are, they’ve been watching that very same show since early in the morning when Brian finally made it to his new apartment to unpack. He couldn’t even tell if it’s due to the possibility of having ridiculously thin walls, or his neighbor just thrives in being an asshole by watching their shows in full volume.

Either way, it’s not a very good start for Brian on his first day as a resident in Los Angeles.

Maybe he should try to stay positive. Or at least that’s what Bri has been telling him but his friend has been living in LA since the moment he reached his mother’s egg first before any of the loser sperm did. His biggest accomplishment yet.

“Just freshen up and I’ll take you to this really nice club. They have a good drag show coming up and I’m telling you, LA queens don’t disappoint. They give the best gender bending performance art ever. By the end of the night, you wouldn’t even be thinking about him or that trashy writing on your leg.” Bri had told him through the loudspeaker of his phone when Brian was far too occupied unpacking his things to even turn down the invitation.

Brian knows all too well that a night of partying isn’t really going to help him get over the rejection he received from Daniel; the man who didn’t necessarily say the lines the mark on his skin showed but is still so goddamn hot and unbelievably compatible with him. They’ve dated a couple of times and most of them ended with a nice few rounds of fucking in Brian’s old apartment. Until, of course, Daniel eventually told him they weren’t exactly dating. That they were just going out and hooking up to ‘pass the time’.

Unlike Brian, Daniel is a strong believer of soulmates just like everybody else and since their first words to each other didn’t match the ones they have marked on their skin from the day they reached their teen years, Daniel is convinced that they’re just not right for each other.

Which is bullshit in Brian’s opinion because they’ve been having a fan-fucking-tastic time together! They share the same humor, same political views, and even like doing the nasty in the bedroom. And now the only reason why they shouldn’t go out at all is because of some words on their skin? Don’t get him wrong though. Brian is perfectly fine with the concept of soulmates but it’s not something he’s actively looking for unlike everyone else.

If he does find the one he’s meant to be with, then good. But if he doesn’t, so what? Not everyone earns those writings on their skin and they’re lucky because they don’t have to live in constant anticipation over whether or not the stranger they’re meeting right now could be the other half of their soul. Their fate is in their own hands– like Bri, his best friend.

Some people who absolutely loathe the thought of not having the freedom to choose who they belong with have their marks removed. That’s something Bri has been recommending him to do but while Brian is still moping around about how he just got rejected because the person he likes is a firm believer of soulmates, he still sometimes like to think that he will wind up meeting the one he’s destined for.

Even no matter how fucked up the first words that person will be telling him.

“Hey, can you tell this pussyfart that that guy is clearly checking me out?”

Those written words eventually disappear under the fabric of his jeans as Brian puts them on, failing to hold back the cringe that goes along with the action at the thought of his possible future partner saying those exact words. Honestly, who says that to a complete stranger? It would be pointless for him to have that writing removed when he practically grew up with it. Who could forget that exact line?

His soulmate clearly has a colorful vocabulary which is something Brian respects. But this person is also way over his head to be assuming that someone is checking them out and would need some kind of agreement and validation from a stranger.

For the love of all things holy, please don’t let his soulmate be white trash.

–

“Do you have any more nail glue?”

Alaska hands over the bottle to her boyfriend without even the bother to look away from her own reflection in the mirror, checking every tiny detail of the way she painted her face for the night. Seeing people point out on social media about how her lashes didn’t match or that she had lipstick on her teeth can be so stressful. She’s out there trying to be funny and entertaining for them and all they could think about is how to be a goddamn hawk and zoom in on every flaw she has on her.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Sharon points out from her own vanity desk, the lights on her mirror exposing just how thick and harsh her makeup is compared to Alaska’s. “Penny for your thoughts, baby?”

Alaska takes another shot of her cherry vodka— an important necessity for her to do whenever she could tell Sharon genuinely wants to know what’s on her mind but still prone to start an unnecessary argument if she disagrees with whatever the hell Alaska has to say. Having an argument has become a common thing for the two of them lately, which is fine with Alaska. A relationship with someone who just agrees with everything she says would be so fucking dull and boring anyway.

But for tonight, she’s just not in the mood to raise her voice.

“Just a headache.” She finally says after shooting a feigned smile to her boyfriend’s direction.

If Sharon isn’t convinced by her act, it doesn’t show. “Drink some pain-killers then. I promise we’ll head straight home after this if you want.”

“No, I don’t want to be a bother.” Alaska drawls as she redirects her eyes to her reflection, her hands coming up to fluff her blonde wig up a bit. “Besides, we’re supposed to meet and welcome Brian’s new friend.”

“Oh yeah, the one who shares his name?”

“Brian is a pretty common name.”

“I heard he’s a drag queen as well.”

This catches Alaska’s interest although she maintains her gaze on the mirror, tilting her head slightly to the side. “A pageant queen?”

“Comedy, probably.” Sharon snorts in pleased derision. “Come on, he’s a friend of Trixie Mattel. The guy’s most likely a comedy queen. Maybe you’ll finally have someone to relate to. It’s about time you interact with other queens aside from Roxxxy and Detox.”

“Ugh…” Alaska whines before curling her lips to a grimace in distaste. “Do I have to though? He’s gonna see our show anyway and I don’t think he’d want to be friends with someone who gets a blowjob on stage. What if he’s the kind of comedy queen who thinks he’s funnier than everyone else and perpetually has his nose up in the air?”

“Then he wouldn’t be good friends with our dear Trixie.”

Good point.

Honestly though, Alaska just really wants to be polite to the new guy then head straight back home. She’s not particularly keen on dwelling in the crowd after an erotic performance with her boyfriend because she always ends up feeling like she’s being stared at. It’s never a comfortable situation. She’s told Sharon this before but the Queen of Halloween thinks she’s just being too self-absorbed and that it’s all in her head.

And maybe she’s right. Sharon is always right.

Ugh, why is she destined with such an artsy queen?

Despite their clear differences, Alaska is still head over heels for Sharon and she has no doubt that the other drag queen feels the same way. Their arguments may have been getting worse, but their makeup sex has been getting better and hotter so everything’s all balanced out.

Alaska purses her lips thoughtfully as she draws her gaze down to her left wrist, the words “Oh, sorry.” marked on her skin sending a familiar flutter inside her chest. Whenever she’s having doubts about the two of them, all she has to do is look down on her wrist and it immediately reminds her of how they met. As Justin, he had moved to Los Angeles at the time in an attempt to become an actor, but luck wasn’t in the mood to hand over a clear path to his dream.

But then on his way to an audition, he ended up running into a handsome blond stranger whose arms were completely occupied with large rolls of fabric. The sidewalk was just a mess of colorful materials and nobody even bothered to help them up.

“Oh, sorry!” Were the first words Aaron Coady— Sharon Needles— had uttered to him.

As someone with a very vague soulmark, Justin would have shrugged it off. He couldn’t keep up with the number of times he had misinterpreted who his soulmate was. But somehow, that particular encounter was different. Just from the very first time he laid his eyes on Aaron, he was already enraptured. Aaron is someone who could pull off that boyish dorky look Justin always likes and after hearing those words slip past his lips, there’s no doubt in mind that Aaron is his soulmate.

They dated, and Aaron eventually admitted that he had his soulmark removed when he was eighteen. But according to him, having it removed was completely pointless when the words that previously scarred his skin were the exact first words Justin had said to him.

Unfortunately, Justin couldn’t even remember what he had said but deemed it rude and unromantic to ask what those words were. He didn’t have to ask anyway when their feelings for each other totally make sense.

“Earth to Alaska.” With several owlish blinks, Alaska returns to reality upon feeling Sharon pulling her closer by the waist from the side. Sharon gives the blonde queen a light kiss on the cheek, careful not to smear her black lipstick on her skin, before brushing the stray hair away from her face. “You okay? You’re zoning out again.”

Alaska feigns another smile, her gaze dipping to a flirty tone as she faces her boyfriend. The dorky bespectacled Aaron is completely non-existent under the dark spooky guise of Sharon Needles. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to be so in love with you.”

Sharon laughs and somehow, the sound of it is enough to make Alaska feel a little better. “Want a straw with that, you little suck-up?”

“From what I’ve gathered, you’re the one who will be doing all the sucking.”

Sharon gives her a toothy grin and Alaska swears she could have melted in her arms right then and there. Sharon leans in and whispers to her, her words ghosting over Alaska’s red-coated lips. “Let’s give those bastards a show they can’t forget.”

Remembering the performance they have to do, Alaska fights back the will to falter her smile. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

Sharon grins and gives her a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away immediately just as soon as a member of the staff came in to cue them. Alaska breathes in, pours herself another shot of vodka, and downs it in.

–

Where the hell is Bri?

Brian worries his bottom lip as he takes a gander of his surroundings under the dim purple light, the music pounding in his ears and his anxiety level rising up every time he thinks someone is about to approach him. He doesn’t normally mind a huge crowd but that’s only when he’s with a friend or two. Being alone is a different story. He’s been sitting by the bar alone for almost twenty minutes now and he still couldn’t find Bri anywhere.

He earlier tried to focus on the drag queen performing on stage but the performance isn’t very eye-catching. The artist is far too intoxicated to even lipsync the song “Baby One More Time” right and keeps stumbling on her steps. The performance is just a humiliating mess overall and Brian couldn’t bear to watch anymore without pitying the queen. Hopefully, this isn’t the performance Bri has been so damn excited about all day.

“You come around here often?”

Brian jumps in his seat and clinches his jaw as he turns to find the devil himself grinning at him from ear to ear.

“Bri!” The blond acknowledges him with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Bitch, I was this close to leaving. What took you so long?”

“Uh, do you even know me?” Bri cocks his head at him in obvious disbelief before finally enthroning himself down on the bar stool beside him. “I’m like totally worth waiting for. It takes a lot of time to look the way I do right now.”

Brian eyes his friend’s outfit from head to toe. “A plaid shirt and worn out jeans? Are you here to chop wood?”

“Unless you’re Miranda Priestly or my mom, spare me the lecture.” Bri waves his hand dismissively in the air. “So how are you liking LA so far?”

Brian opens his mouth to respond but stops right away when he realizes Bri is still a bit too preoccupied in ordering his drink despite the question he had just shot to his direction. Well, he is worth waiting for so he waits. Once Bri has turned back to him with a patient smile, Brian finally speaks up.

“It’s not bad. The apartment is smaller than my old one but I guess it just takes time to get used to.”

“Yeah, you’ll earn more tips performing here than you did in Boston.” Bri points out with a shrug. “Just don’t worry too much. You’ll afford a bigger apartment in no time.”

Realistically, it can’t be that easy but that’s what Brian likes about his friend. He can be quite the optimist when he needs to be and sometimes, Brian could use a little bit of optimism in his dreary life.

The familiar tune to Tainted Love by Soft Cell fills the air and Brian flinches the very second he feels Bri clutching his arm in excitement. The crowd screams and cheers as they sail forth closer to the stage for a better view. The next queen must be very favored around this area if even his friend who’s also known as the hard-to-impress Trixie Mattel gets all this hyped up just by the mere sound of the song they’re about to lipsync to.

“This is the show I’m telling you about!” Bri grins all too eagerly.

The performer enters the stage and Brian is completely taken back by how tall the queen is. Sure, she has some help from her high-heel boots but just picturing her without them still seems like she’d tower over most people. She has a long beehive blonde wig on, although the beehive part has somewhat lost its volume and has gone a bit limp as if the queen couldn’t be bothered fixing it. Strangely enough, it suits her. It matches the way she leaps into enthusiastic action, her heels hammering the stage floor.

Her makeup is dark and thick just as expected from a drag queen but Brian couldn’t understand the black paint on the tip of her nose and the whiskers drawn on her cheeks. She’s not exactly wearing any animal ears so it’s hard to tell what kind of look she’s going for here. She’s only dressed in a black sparkly bra and a dark short skirt with a bow tie around her neck.

Overall, it’s a look Brian would never see himself wearing as Katya but it’s also a look that nobody else could pull off but the blonde performer. She looks fishier than any of the queens he met.

“That’s Alaska!” Bri shouts over the music. “Alaska Thunderfuck! She’s a good friend of mine! You’ll meet her later!”

Brian doesn’t put out the effort to respond, assuming there’s no way he’d be able to say anything through the music. Surprisingly enough, another queen joins Alaska and Brian finds himself holding his breath.

The quality of this queen’s look is beyond anything Brian could ever reach. She’s dressed like the female version of Dracula. Her entire face is painted a ghoulish white which matches her white contact lenses. It almost seems like her entire look costs more time, money, and effort than Alaska’s. Everything about her is so polished from her cleanly drawn sharp widow’s peak to her thigh-high leather boots. Fake blood has been daubed over both corners of her lips, adding just the right amount of spook to it.

If most LA queens are this polished, then Brian couldn’t help but feel a little small.

“And that’s Sharon Needles!” He feels Bri give him a light nudge to the shoulder. Damn, even her name is witty. “The self-proclaimed Queen of Halloween!”

Brian isn’t surprised.

The two queens begin singing to Tainted Love instead of lipsyncing it and Brian hopes that’s not a thing in LA because he can’t sing for shit. Even their voices are very theatrical with all those natural vibratos and high notes. Although, he could tell Alaska is just making fun of herself by suddenly dropping her dainty throaty voice to a deep grating one every now and then and Brian is undoubtedly living for it. Her timing is always on point and before he knew it, he already finds himself smiling and enjoying the show.

Until the performance begins to take an unexpected turn.

Sharon slowly goes down on her knees and Alaska feigns an endearing look of confusion. Almost everyone in the audience have their phones out, recording and taking snapshots. Sharon grins at the audience then up at Alaska before reaching under the other queen’s skirt to pull down her dark lacy underwear. Brian stares at the show, bug-eyed. An almost hysterical gleam of devilry twinkles within Alaska’s eyes as she smiles at the audience and lifts her skirt up, unabashedly exposing her limp dick for everyone to see.

Sharon then proceeds to suck her off and everyone in the club goes wild.

What in the ever loving fuck.

He hears Bri screeching and laughing, his arms flailing in the air. “See, what did I tell you?! Best gender bending performance art ever!”

Brian couldn’t even take his eyes off the two. Alaska fans herself with her free hand, looking as though she’s enjoying the public show she’s giving but her limp dick gives away her obviously frazzled state. She’s big, no doubt about it. And Sharon looks so used to blowing him.

Somewhere, deep within the depths of his mind, Brian finds it hot.

But like hell is he going to admit that out loud.

Sharon eventually gets back on her feet and Alaska lets her skirt fall over her crotch as they continue the song. She steps off of her panties and tosses them to the backstage, but her fleeting disgusted scowl doesn’t go unnoticed to Brian.

–

Alaska feels sick. Her stomach twists and lurches as she walks back to the dressing room. She hurries over to her vanity desk, pours herself another shot, and downs it in before releasing a sigh and embracing the warmth that spreads all throughout her body.

“You forgot these, babe.” She looks back over her shoulder to find Sharon handing over her underwear. Alaska offers her a lackluster smile and takes the panties away from her grip to quickly put them on. She could still feel Sharon’s eyes on her and just as she expected, her boyfriend decides to speak up. “You really don’t look good. Maybe we should go home. I can just shoot Brian a message and postpone—”

“No, don’t.” Alaska cuts her off after dragging a deep intake of breath, her fingers adjusting the band of her underwear. “I can’t be the reason. I know what the other queens say about me. I don’t want Brian thinking I’m a brat too.”

“But you are.” Sharon sticks her tongue out at her in good humor, though the harmless tease just goes flying over Alaska’s head. “But I can just lie and tell him that I’m the one feeling sick.”

“Like he’d believe that.” Alaska turns her back to her to fix her makeup. “You never postpone or cancel anything unless it’s a family emergency.”

“But you’re sick.”

“I told you, it’s just a damn headache.” The blonde almost snaps, the muscles in her face tightening in frustration and impatience. Sharon goes still for a moment and Alaska immediately regrets her tone, knowing that this is something the other queen won’t be dropping anytime soon.

“Fuck, fine.” Sharon fumes with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just don’t come crying over to me if you throw up on someone.”

Alaska slams her eyes shut and grips the edge of her desk in an attempt to control her nausea and her emotions. She’s being a brat again. And to Sharon, of all people. Something inside her chest twists in pain and she takes another deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs even though she knows an apology from her is never enough for Sharon. From the corner of her sight, she could see her boyfriend reapplying her makeup from her own desk without even so much of a glance at her direction.

“Let’s just hurry.” Sharon’s tone is stiff and uncaring, enough to further twist the tight pain in Alaska’s chest. “Brian’s waiting for us.”

After a few more minutes of freshening themselves up, the pair leave the dressing room to join the crowd of strangers in the club. Alaska easily catches Brian by the bar but before she could even have the chance to approach him or even catch his attention, she and Sharon are suddenly swarmed by their adoring fans. Brushing them off wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do no matter how dizzy she feels. The last thing she needs right now is people saying how much of a bitch she is on social media.

They stop for now to interact with their admirers. Sharon is a natural, of course. She charms everyone without even trying. Alaska, on the other hand, is just struggling to keep a smile on her face as she thanks every single one of them for the compliments they’re showering her with. But even with all the praises and flatteries that are being sent her way, she could still feel a few pairs of judgmental stares eyeing her.

She doesn’t feel comfortable.

This is what always happens whenever they go for a risky performance. She could feel everyone just staring at her, perhaps even murmuring to each other about how much of a trashy queen she must be. Never mind Sharon doing the same shit that she does because she’s Sharon fucking Needles. She’s widely known as the insanely eccentric one. But Alaska? She’s a comedy queen who just rides along with Sharon’s perspective of what art is supposed to be.

Sharon is always right after all.

One guy in particular catches her attention. He stands near the fire exit with a smile hanging on the corner of his lips, his arms crossed and his eyes trained boldly at her. Alaska tears her gaze away from him and tugs Sharon by the elbow to murmur over her ear, “I think that guy near the fire exit is staring at me. And not in a good way.”

Sharon blinks and looks up at the fire exit. Alaska can’t tell what the stranger is doing at this point and she honestly doesn’t want to know. She can’t bear to give that guy another glance when his stare is just making it harder for her to try and stay.

“No, he’s not. You’re just getting paranoid again.” Sharon debates as she shakes her head. “Come on, let’s get to Brian.” And with that, Sharon politely excuses the two of them from their fans and tries to pass through. Alaska takes her hand in hers hurriedly for the sake of not losing her in the crowd, earning a look of surprise from her boyfriend. Fortunately, Sharon squeezes her hand in reassurance and gently tugs her along through the mass of strangers.

Mustering up all the courage she could possibly have, Alaska throws a look over her shoulder and jumps when she realizes the guy is still watching her from where he stood. He even makes a show out of it by shamelessly licking his lips. She whips her gaze back at Sharon and pulls her arm almost a bit too hard. “He really is staring at me!” She hisses and Sharon’s eyes roll skyward in annoyed disbelief.

“He’s not, Lasky. Just let this go.”

“Just look!”

“I did and when I say you’re being paranoid, you really are being paranoid!”

–

“So what do you think of the show?” Bri inquires with a knowing smile.

“It was so horrendous and disturbing, I have never cum that hard since the accident, mom.” Brian crinkles his nose in feigned disgust, his words dripping with his terrible portrayal of the British accent.

“Good to know!” Bri snorts a laugh. “You haven’t seen the rest of the queens yet though. They’re all batshit crazy. I mean, Sharon and Alaska are pretty much the craziest ones here in my personal opinion but there are some insane ones too. The crazier and funnier you are, the more people will tip you.”

“Oh my god, is this why you’ve gone bankrupt?”

“Bitch, you thought!”

Brian laughs as he avoids a swat from his friend. “I can be funny onstage. And I can lipsync too. Do you think that’s good enough?”

“It’s a good start.” Bri nods. “Don’t worry. It’s not like sucking someone off onstage is a requirement here.”

“Shit, really? What a way to get my hopes up then. Okay well, I’ll just have a quick smoke outside before your friends get here.”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me sitting here by myself like I’m back in the fourth grade?”

“Yep. Have fun.” Brian grins cheekily at his friend before standing up from his seat and grabbing his jacket. He’s taken back by how the club looks even more crowded now than before. Getting through will require too much effort, but Brian really does need a smoke before mustering up the much needed confidence to meet those two amazing performers from earlier. He trains his eyes down on the floor as he tries to barge up ahead.

Some of the people are assholes who probably think they could establish their dominance by not giving way at all while some are far too intoxicated to even know where the hell they are right now. Either way, it’s not giving him a clear path to the exit.

A dramatic yelp catches his ears and he looks up just in time to find a tall blonde woman stumbling on her steps and nearly crashing into him the second Brian tries to move past her. He catches her quickly by the arms before she could totally make a severe physical impact on him.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologizes as he helps her find her balance.

The woman brushes her hair away from her face and Brian finds his entire frame stiffening in recognition.

It’s Miss Alaska Thunderfuck herself towering over him.

And she’s even more fucking gorgeous up-close.

Sharon Needles is just right behind her, her fingers enclosed around the taller queen’s elbow. “Jesus, the alcohol is really getting in your head!”

“That’s rich coming from you. And I know what I saw!” Alaska snaps back but her tone is whinier than Sharon’s. She then directs her eyes at Brian who nearly flinches at the sudden acknowledgment. “Hey, can you tell this pussyfart that that guy is clearly checking me out?”

The words strike him right then and there.

His heart gallops away.

He stares at her, slack-mouthed.

Suddenly, he feels far too aware of the writing on his right thigh.

“So now he’s checking you out?” Sharon jumps in, successfully snatching Alaska’s attention. “I thought he was just staring at you? And not in a good way?”

“The same fucking thing!” Alaska sneers at the Queen of Halloween.

“I just can’t with you right now.”

And with that, Sharon walks off— leaving her fellow drag queen alone with Brian who is still technically a stranger to the two of them. Brian glances over at Alaska but Alaska wouldn’t even look at him, her head drooping down as she rubs her forehead. Her shoulders are trembling and a broken sob wracks her entire form.

Shit, she’s crying.

In the middle of a club.

And people are starting to stare.

“Fuck, shit, fucking fuck.” Brian curses under his breath, not entirely sure what to do and wondering how the hell he even got himself in this situation. Carefully, he reaches and pats Alaska’s bare shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “Um, hey…? Do you wanna go outside and get some fresh air? Maybe that’ll help?”

Alaska grabs his arm. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Goddammit.

#rpdr fanfiction #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #sharon needles #katlaska #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #miss sugar pink #tw toxic relationship #tw alcohol abuse #submission #in my mind #soulmate au #m/m au

49 notes · View notes

sudsybear · 6 years

Text

Playing house before good-bye

Greg and Ross had been best friend since childhood. Greg’s birthday was coming up, and Ross wanted to make his friend happy with a birthday gift. The “Dart” letters of Greg’s car were missing, so I suggested we buy Greg an “F” – change his Dart to a Fart. Ross loved the idea…but was stumped. Where to buy an “F”? We called the Ford dealership, and for something like $26.95 (expensive for us at the time) we bought an “F”, took it home and found a jewelry box to put it in. Presentation is fully half the fun, so I wrapped it in pretty paper and used fancy ribbon and large loopy bow. We thought it was hysterical. When he opened it, Greg was a bit befuddled. Either he didn’t get the joke, or we thought it was much funnier than it actually was. An expensive (for us at the time) joke that fizzled.

* * *

Like so many teens preparing to leave home, I was scared. And my anxiety was escalating. In an attempt to mollify my fear, Dad called the University housing office and got names and phone numbers of my suitemates. I had applied and was accepted to live on the Inter Class Living Center; one floor of a dorm set aside for a hand-picked group of students – with a deliberate mix of class standing; sixteen freshman and sixteen upperclassmen – sophomores, juniors and two seniors. I thought staying away from a “freshman ghetto” would be a good experience. Still, I was anxious. And sometime between Fourth of July and Ross’ birthday on the 23rd, I got a formal note from the school regarding my assigned roommate, Vivyan Golbois.

With my parents’ permission, I called her long distance. I said I wanted to coordinate large ticket items – stereo? TV? But I was really far more interested in finding out if we would “click”. Would we have anything in common? On the phone, she had a thick NY accent, which didn’t inspire confidence. Her family’s apartment in New York City was in the flight path of Kennedy airport. We paused our conversation every 3-5 minutes, whenever an airplane took off or landed. I learned she would attend an earlier orientation session, so we would not meet up until it was time to move in together. I didn’t get a good feeling about this at all.

Even with the application-only housing, and calling my intended roommate, I was still scared. I signed up for a “big sister” program on campus. The University matched me with an enthusiastic sorority girl, and we exchanged a letter or two, with promises of showing me the ropes when I arrived on campus. It was something to look forward to anyway.

* * *

In late July, my parents went off to Augusta Heritage Center at Davis & Elkins College in Elkins, WV (I called it adult summer camp). Ross’ parents spent that same week vacationing in Michigan. When I started this project, I found Mom’s postcards mixed in the same box with Ross’ letters, and I smiled at the memory. Ross and I were well aware of the timing and did all sorts of non-answering of questions to make sure our respective parental units were unaware of each other’s travel plans. Just imagine a full week of two teenagers madly in lust and no parental supervision! Ah sweet freedom! Sure, I still had to take care of the dogs, and mow the lawn if it needed it, and Mom did arrange to have someone stay at the house to make sure all was safe. But the freedom! We played house together that week, arranging meals and other domestications. We both had to work, so we couldn’t get into much trouble anyway.

One afternoon while we were on our own, Ross and I went to the Swim Club (for his birthday?). The Swim Club was just that – a private club formed for the sole purpose of providing a private swim experience. The facilities consisted of an Olympic size in-ground swimming pool, with separate deep end for diving, a snack bar and a kiddie pool. We must have had guest passes since neither of our families were members. When we arrived, the pool was mostly empty. The mothers with toddlers had gone home for naps, and the pre-teens were called home for dinner. With twilight falling around us, a few friends showed up and we played Marco-Polo, got into splash fights and the like. Our play eventually became an in-pool wrestling match, and I got up on Ross’ shoulders and we teamed against another couple, trying to knock the other pair over. Games like that always inspire sexual passion, and we were no exception. After a while we left the swim club and drove back to his house to finish the game privately, delighting in our physical pleasures as comfortably as we enjoyed each other’s company.

That same week, while our parents were away, Ross and Scott decided to re-paint their basement. A dark dank room with two small casement windows and the stairway to the main floor, the room was the main entrance to the house from the garage. It was also the hallway to the laundry area. Scott and Ross wanted to use the space for their music equipment, so wanted to spruce up the room. They enlisted Mark’s and my help and dug out some maroon house paint – the same stuff Ross had used to paint the Pinto. We put down drop cloths and started painting. No wall preparation, no thought to the project at all. Just pull out the paint and start in.

We had no ventilation. The windows hadn’t been opened in twenty years – they were covered with vines from the window wells. Sure we propped open the door to the garage, but that’s not “adequate ventilation.” We had no experience with proper painting techniques either. We set up the paint bucket and roller pan in one corner of the room and proceeded from there, not even bothering to move the decrepit pump organ that was planted in the corner. We just painted around it.

A few hours later, paint fumes affected our juvenile brains. Tired and hungry, we abandoned the project. Paint dripped across the floor because we hadn’t figured out how to move the paint tray around with us as we finished one section and moved to the next. I don’t think we ever actually finished painting all four walls. But some months later, Scott did move his guitars and amplifiers down there for his band to practice. I learned later that the basement stayed in that state of arrested development for another fifteen years. It was finally re-painted when they put the house on the market and built new.

* * *

Over a week to ourselves, our reliance on each other deepened. We mastered communication skills, coordinated schedules, arranged meals. We practiced the art of living together. Our respective parents returned from their sojourns from parenting and the four of us, Ross, Scott, Mark and I all had to readjust to life with supervision. But by this time, Ross’ and my late night escapades were normal for us - dinner and a movie, late at night, talking intimately as he drove around the Hamilton County back-country.

My absence from home drove my parents crazy, and they tried to crack down on us. I was rarely there – only to sleep, LATE at night (early morning?) and to use the shower and laundry facilities. I still had to mow the lawn, and help with chores, but overall, they couldn’t stop us.

My parents finally confronted me on a night in early August. I got in none too quietly at 3 a.m. or later just one too many times for their comfort. The dogs barked from under their bed, waking them up. They accosted me in the kitchen as I walked in the back door.

“Young lady, where have you been?”

“With Ross.”

“Where? We called Jeynes’ and they didn’t know where you were.”

“Out. We were driving around. We went to Denny’s after the movie.”

“We’ve had enough of this. This behavior is not acceptable. We can’t trust you.”

“I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs. I work (babysit) every Friday and Saturday night to earn my own money. I’m not going to get pregnant. I tell you who I am going to be with and where I am going. When I go out with Ross, we go after work (mine and his). The typical “date” lasts 4-5 hours. If we leave at 11 p.m., that means I get in at 3 a.m. or later. I’m sorry if that bothers you. Do you have another solution?”

…uncomfortable silence…

“We’ll be watching you. Now get yourself upstairs, and we’ll talk more tomorrow”

“Well, I have to be at so and so’s to babysit at 7:30 ‘til 1 p.m., then I have to be at so and so’s at 3 p.m.”

“Oh.”

So much for that discussion…

Ross and I tried to spend more time at my house, especially after that encounter, but we had dogs – two of them. Ross was vehemently allergic to any creature with fur. Five minutes in our house and he was miserable. He stopped by and stayed in the back yard as much as he could…but it was a challenge. He couldn’t even be in the back yard for long without tearing up and starting with terrible post-nasal drip. (We tried!) I wanted to be with Ross, and he couldn’t stay at my house, so…I continued staying at his. My parents kept tabs on me…I checked in by telephone, and stopped by the house to leave messages.

* * *

August 12, my 18th birthday: Ross had to work, but I arranged my babysitting schedule so I had the day off. Erin invited me to the swim club work on my suntan. We visited with the few friends who were around. Tommy, my Teen Counseling partner, was lifeguard that summer. Late in the afternoon, I dove into the pool to cool off, and hit bottom headfirst. I swam up for air, broke the surface of the water and realized my two front teeth were broken. Shocked, I gulped air and swam to the bottom of the pool to try to find my broken teeth. Unsuccessful and slightly panicked, I swam to the side of the pool and climbed out. I grabbed my towel from my chair, and walked to the front desk to borrow the office phone to call Mom. I lisped my explanation of what happened, and asked what I should do. While she called the dentist office, I dried off and dressed in the changing room. Remarkably calm by this time, after just a couple of more phone calls I told Erin goodbye and drove down to the dentist’s office.

The dentist was an old family friend – his daughter was a year behind me in school. He and his assistant stayed late to repair my teeth. For my sixteenth birthday I had requested that the gap between my front teeth be closed. The dentist used a new material on the market – bonding. I loved it, and except for photos, had forgotten the gap had ever existed. Two years later, there I was back in the dentists office, hooked up to the nitrous oxide, chatting away with the dentist and his assistant, getting my front teeth repaired. By 7 p.m., with an admonishment to not bite into any apples, no one would ever guess anything had happened.

Mrs. Jeynes had a package waiting for me at their house…Another plush Opus. I received cards from my brothers and aunts, and all included some money for the coming semester away from home. From my parents? I asked them to foot the phone bill for my upcoming semester…little did I know how much that was going to cost!

* * *

A few days after my birthday, I stopped by Jeynes’ house per my usual routine. We’d enjoyed a private moment in his bedroom, but Ross was agitated. We stopped, straightened our clothes, and started talking – really talking. The topic was sex, and in my naivete, I didn’t understand masturbation. I was not a practitioner and in my yes, innocence, I didn’t comprehend that young male adolescents survive only because of masturbation. I mistakenly believed masturbation was a practice resorted to because of my own inadequacy. Ross tried to reassure me that my notion was ludicrous, but new to the sex game, I still had my doubts.

But that’s not all that was wrong. The conversation was awkward and embarrassing for both of us, but we cared for each other and needed to finish our discussion. Scott arrived home, and our privacy was compromised, so we retreated downstairs. Ross still needed to get something off his conscience, and I needed to hear it for him. We sat on the front stoop, a public place that was remarkably private even as cars drove by, and Ross confided his private fetish. He loved wearing women’s clothing. Lingerie was a turn-on for him. Women’s shoes felt wonderful on his feet. He loved to dress up.

Oh, that was too much for my young self. It’s too much for many old selves. Instead of telling him I loved him for all his generous ways, and for all the good ways he made me feel, I hyperventilated. Breathing heavily, but not getting enough air, I trembled with fear and confusion. I tried to walk away, but could not bear to leave him sitting on that stoop by himself. The late afternoon sun hit the front yard, shadows were long, and the breeze was still hot. I finally calmed down, regained my composure, and started crying. If I felt threatened by jacking-off, how were we going to get through this? We both needed time to cogitate, to meditate. What effect would this have on our relationship? What would we let it do to us? We pledged our love to each other, and agreed to let the matter rest.

* * *

Julie and Valli were both going to Miami University – not the one in Florida – the one in Oxford, Ohio. They had decided to room together, and had to be up at school in mid-August for rush period. (Miami was almost exclusively Greek.) Julie’s parents took off the day, and brought Julie and her things to school. For whatever reason, Valli’s parents didn’t have the time to do that. So Ross and I were enlisted to take Valli to college. We packed up the Jeynes’ Oldsmobile Station wagon with her boxes and boxes and suitcases and grocery bags (Valli never did learn to pack well – she always took too much stuff with her) and drove up to Oxford for freshman move-in day. We were there with Valli and Julie and thousands of other freshmen and their parents, jostling for prime parking spots, waiting our turn for the baggage carts, and carrying boxes to the room where Julie and Valli would spend their freshman year.

I felt bad for Valli. This was a major milestone in her life, and her parents weren’t there to share it. They weren’t there to reassure her. They missed a life-changing event in their daughter’s life. Ross and I left Valli with Julie and her parents, and drove back home. It was a quiet drive back. I sat in the middle of the bench seat, resting my head on Ross’ shoulder. I worried about my own imminent drop-off at the University dorm, and held Ross just a little bit tighter for the fear. I wonder now what thoughts swam through Ross’ head that day. Was he remembering moving in at Wooster? Did he regret moving back home? Was he worried about me going away? Did he wish he was going away to college again?

* * *

At age 85 my grandmother’s health was failing. (I called her Mommer, a name given her by my cousins years earlier.) She suffered congestive heart failure for years, along with osteoporosis. She was remarkable in her ability to follow doctor’s orders. She gave up all salt and sodium, took her medications as directed, she exercised daily and wore her back brace every day. Her eyesight was failing despite two cataract surgeries. She was aware of her appearance, maintaining her hair and keeping her clothing neat and in good repair. Her mind was sharp as ever, and she retained her dignity.

Over the course of the summer, she slowed considerably. Throughout the spring and summer Ross and I stopped by her apartment on occasion to check in or to drop something off that she had requested. Finally in August, she was hospitalized. And in the days before I left home, Ross accompanied me to see her in the hospital. She seemed so tiny in the hospital bed, an IV in her arm, oxygen at her nose, wires hooked up to the heart monitors. Her hair was mussed and uncombed, a testament to her tiredness. We visited, chatting about my plans and gossiping about her neighbors. I naively wished her a speedy recovery. She finally said, "You don't need to spend time in here with an old lady. You go on out and have fun and don't keep that nice young man waiting.”

I hugged her awkwardly across the hospital bed, telling her good-bye. Ross said goodbye and we left. I didn’t know it then, but that was the last I would ever see her.

* * *

Ross arranged to take me sailing. The Saturday before I left for college, we took a picnic lunch up to some lake and borrowed a little sunfish. It was a beautiful afternoon. The height of summer, the heat and humidity might have otherwise been unbearable. But out on the lake with the breeze blowing and the water to cool us off, we didn’t notice how hot it was. When he was growing up, Ross’ family spent summer vacation time either in Michigan along the lake or on the Atlantic seacoast. Ross was very comfortable on the water. I was a little nervous, I last sailed when I was just a preschooler with Dad and my older brothers. I’m much more comfortable in a canoe. Years of Girl Scout camp and a brother who kayaked taught me to enjoy rivers and small lakes, I’ll paddle right along. But I really don't care to be on the water so far from shore. But Ross was at peace; it was what he knew. He had command of the boat and the sails. He watched the wind, and told me when to duck under the sail while he tacked.

At one point the wind died and we were adrift and had a chance to talk. With all our summer experiences together, sharing our hearts, our bodies, our families, we spent this time sharing our childhoods. He shared memories of playing at the beach with his cousin. I told him about vacations with my family in the mountains of West Virginia. Without a doubt, we were in love.

An “off to college” gift – delivered the day before I left in late August 1985:

Read Carefully

Instructions

Read instructions

Follow instructions

Read writing below line

Open attatched pkg.

Turn page

Read inside of card

________________________________________________

If, when you are at college, things start to go badly and you think your whole world is going to fall apart,

(open package)

[inside of card]

You can fix it.

Love

Ross

Pinto ;��

0 notes