#I'm leaving a snail trail everywhere

[abbysthighs]

THESE SHOTS ARE SO HOT.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Salt Mushroom

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy 3

Everybody remembers when Super Mario Galaxy 3 launched worldwide for the Wii's immensely popular successor, the Nintendo Wii Too, blowing all of our collective minds with its flawless combination of the inviting and memorable atmosphere of the first entry in the series with the incredible 3D platforming of its immediate predecessor. But let's be honest, we've all seen Super Mario Galaxy 3 at the top of enough "Greatest Games of All Time" listicles by now. Today we're going to take a much more focused look at just one element which helped to make Galaxy 3 one of the greatest 3D platformers of all time, and one which hardly warrants such a lengthy introduction: the Salt Mushroom!

This item first appears somewhat late in the game, in the Briny Mine Galaxy mission Salt Mario Finds the Cure. You land on a small planetoid with some Gearmos who explain to you that the mine's been overrun with weird monsters! With a boost from a Launch Star, you propel yourself into a pipe, which takes you straight into the depths of the Briny Mine itself.

Sure enough, there's weird monsters all over the place! Excargot, to be precise! These heavily armored, tank-treaded snail creatures try to charge at Mario, leaving trails of slippery slime everywhere! But jump out of the way, and they'll go flying into the wall, causing the shell-like armor on their backs to shutter open, exposing the slimy pink skin inside. What's that? Why haven't I included an image of Excargot, an extraordinarily weird Mario enemy? Well, I mean, we've all seen it. It would be pretty redundant to show a picture, then, wouldn't it? Hm? Now you want to know why I've explained everything in such gratuitous detail thus far? I think you need to keep your voice down.

Anyway, if you try to attack this glaring weak spot with a stomp or a spin, Mario simply bounces off! Clearly, a power-up is in order. Collect the nearby ? Coin to summon the Salt Mushroom, and collect it to become...

Salt Mario!!! With his newfound powers of star-spin-propelled salt-flinging, Mario can handily defeat the Excargot, and even walk with ease across their slime (and even across ice later on in the ever-iconic Slick Street Galaxy). But that's not all! The more time Mario spends as Salt Mario, the more his Hydration Meter decreases! His movement gradually becomes more sluggish, his jump height becoming shorter and weaker, all the while delivering his voice lines with that trademark Salt Mario hoarseness, and loudly rasping his parched lips when left idle, desperately pleading for water.

Of course, we all know that there is no water anywhere in the two levels where the Salt Mushroom is found, and we all know the grisly fate that awaits our plucky plumber when his Hydration Meter finally runs out. We've all seen it! Dozens of times! Hundreds, even! I think I speak for everyone when I say I could watch it happen forever and ever, and never stop laughing!

Needless to say, Salt Mario was a huge hit with fans, and Miyamoto has even cited the Salt Mushroom as his all-time favorite power-up. Some could say the Salt Mushroom has eclipsed even Mario himself in popularity, and many consider it to be the new face of the franchise! I mean, it's a hard claim to deny when we're three entries deep in the Salt Mushroom Rally series (yes, I'm counting Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence as a discrete title from Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence Deluxe, I'm not arguing with you about this). And with that, much like Mario's Hydration Meter, my material has finally run dry. You know what Mario would say in this situation? Of course you do! Say it with me, everybody! "HHHHHKKH, KHKKHHHHHHHHH, HHHHKKKKHKK!!!"

[nightshadereaper66]

Ethanol and Mothballs

Word Count: 2.1k This short story is inspired by the museum collections that I visited during my January paleontology class. All of the pictures used are mine and were taken at the various museums we visited. I'm super excited to share this story with y'all, and hope you love it as much as I do!

The halls of the museum are quiet. The day has ended, night plunging the rooms into eerie darkness. Gone are the copious beams of sunlight flowing through the windows. They now show only the gray haze of the city's night sky, plunging the marble halls into obscurity. It's the end of the hustle and bustle of tourists, of the cheerful shouts and giggles of children, and more subdued conversations of adults. The darkness is broken only by the flashlight beams of security guards working the graveyard shift. 

Occasionally, their light settles on the bones of long-dead animals resting peacefully in their wire armatures, casting odd, distorted shadows across the walls. The umbral forms of prehistoric fossils dance with the shadows of the guards, brought halfway to life only briefly by their light. 

The silence is broken only by footsteps on carpet, the whirring of the climate systems, and the building's occasional creak and groan. All is still as it should be; quietly resting after the long day. It would seem that the museum dies at night.

I open my eyes, hearing the slosh of fluid around me as I shakily stretch, limbs hitting the hard edges of my tub. I groan, my voice gravelly from disuse. Finally, it's time to wake up. I sit up, my poorly adjusted eyes only seeing the occasional glint of light reflecting off the trails of ethanol crisscrossing the floor. My muscles are cramped; I barely see my pale limbs tremoring in front of me. I shake, struggling to find a grip on the sterile stainless steel until I manage to grab the edge of the tub. Slowly my eyes adjust to the welcoming darkness, a wonderful reprieve from bright fluorescent lights. The air is thick with the smell of ethanol. Always ethanol here, it clings to everything and everyone, a constant reminder of the place where we reside.

As my vision improves, I can make out the shapes of the shelves in the darkness. They stand in a puddle of ethanol, trails and prints radiating in all directions from it. My tremors slowly subside as my body fights the vestiges of the cold sleep.

I watch a snake slither out of its jar, landing in the ethanol puddle with a quiet plash. It's quickly followed by its jar-mates, then the frogs from the jar next door. 

The soft sloshes are interrupted by a loud series of splashes and thrashes coming from a large tub on the far side of the wet lab. The smell of ethanol intensifies as the massive alligator snapping turtle inside sends liquid everywhere in his energetic bid for freedom. I climb out of my tub, walking off the stiffness and the last of the tremors before pulling the turtle out by the back of his shell.

“Happy wake-up, Troy,” I say as he starts to wander around the room, leaving behind a broad, messy ethanol trail. He opens his mouth wide, looking straight at me. I’m never sure if that's his version of a smile or a death threat.

The shelves are alive, undocumented insects trundling among their more well-known friends. One jar spews hundreds of tiny snails as they crawl over each other and to the ground, trailing ethanol instead of mucus. I twist off the lid to another snail jar; this one is always particularly stubborn. As I pull off the lid, a giant African land snail creeps out onto my arm.

“Yeah, alright buddy, we can go for a walk. Stretch your, er, foot.”

Snail crawls up my torso and onto my shoulder. I gently pat them between their eyestalks and scratch their shell.

“Just give me a second to let the fish out,” I say, unscrewing the lids of the fish jars and letting them swim out into my large tub, “Have fun, guys. It's not much, but it's better than being stuck like sardines in a can. Or a jar, I guess.”

Troy the snapping turtle shuffles over to watch them schooling.

“You can't eat anymore, remember? None of us can. Don't try it, Troy.”

He opens his mouth, giving me another smile/death threat.

“Thank you.”

I slide Dr. MacMorgan's I.D. out from under a dusty, overlooked jar of rhino beetles on the top shelf. I'm grateful for the museum's leniency in issuing him a second I.D. after this one went missing. He claimed he lost the thing, after all, his eyes “aren't what they used to be,” and his memory “is full of cotton wool these days.” I think the curator also helped to fast-track the process. She definitely didn't ask many questions.

Anyway, I had a garden snail steal the I.D. so that I could walk around collections. What can I say, I got tired of only exploring when the man forgot it in the piles of paperwork on his desk. Feelings and federal laws don’t matter much when you’re dead. Besides, now I can go check out the new research posters they put on the walls. It's nice to know that they're still using us for something. 

I swipe the I.D. and step into the hall. The smell of ethanol fades as the door to the wet lab closes. Snail crawls onto my head for a better view as I step into the bathroom and look at our reflection. The light turns on automatically as I walk in, and I wince as my eyes struggle to adjust. I look at myself in the mirror; my cheeks are sallow, cloudy eyes sunk into yellowed skin. A little worse for wear, but not bad, I haven’t aged a day. I examine my arms, running my fingers over the relatively new needle-hole in one of them. It showed up a few months back, but it’ll never heal. Presumably, it was for a tissue sample; I wonder what they’re using it for. I have been dead and pickled in ethanol for a while, it was about time. Snail (who I seem to be wearing as a hat) looks a little better-preserved, but their body still has that yellowish color that all wet lab residents tend to get. My snail hat waves their eyestalks towards the door emphatically. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” I say, stepping back out of the bathroom and into the darkness of the halls. “Where to now?”

They crawl down to my forehead, waving their left eye stalk in front of my eye.

“Alright, fossils it is. I know you like the shark teeth.” They do a move resembling a one-snail wave in appreciation. I smile, heading through the maze of nearly identical corridors. I see the light of a flashlight ahead and duck into an empty office, narrowly avoiding someone. It's probably just a grad student returning from the vending machine with their energy drink. I wait until the light is gone and slip back into the halls.

“Hey look! They extracted my DNA and used it to do some stuff. That explains the needle hole in my arm,” I say, pointing out a poster on the wall. I step close so that Snail can read it. At least, I think they can read. Their eyestalks scan over the lines of text and appear to understand as they pull back. 

They settle back on my forehead and I set off once more, finally reaching the thick, heavy door to the fossil collections. I scan the I.D. and the light blinks green, letting me in beyond the large gray door. We are hit with the strong smell of mothballs and the crisp, strictly temperature and humidity-controlled air. The lights turn on automatically, illuminating the rows of open shelves and closed metal cabinets.

I walk down the aisles, waiting for Snail to stop me and gesture to whatever cabinet they find interesting. When they do, I open the door. All of the drawers are labeled “glyptodon,” so I pull out a random one. Snail crawls off of me and onto the cabinet, eye stalks investigating the giant armadillo fossils. Mostly osteoderms, the bony bits right under the skin, but some teeth and small bones. When they’re satisfied, I close the cabinet and open a nearby one. 

We proceed in a similar fashion for a while, opening whatever cabinets strike our fancy and stopping to admire the fossils inside. Snail crawls back onto my head and we look at the skulls that rest on the open shelves. There are plenty of mammoths and mastodons, recognizable by their massive teeth. The mammoth teeth are more flat, while mastodons’ are more pointy unless they’ve been worn down a lot.

I run my hand along the glossier fossilized enamel, wondering what the fossils would get up to if they could move around at night. They’re just rock-ified bones (the fancy descriptor is permineralized), so they’d fall apart, assuming that they hadn’t already. The Earth is a blender, or so I hear. 

Snail prefers the smaller fossils, so they’re content to stay on my head as I trace the contours of huge tusks, dino bones, and skulls. It’s crazy to think that some of this stuff is still closer in age to spaghetti than to the beginning of life. It sure seems like it’s been fossilized for ages. And then some paleontologist dug it up and encased it in plaster and a volunteer put in thousands of hours to clean it up. 

“Having a nice wander?”

I jump, snapping abruptly out of my thoughts. The voice comes from behind me. Snail retreats into their shell, still on top of my head. Act like a normal person. One who hasn’t been dead and preserved in ethanol for fifty years.

“Hi! I uh, have a really bad skincare routine!”

She laughs. I turn around. It’s the museum curator. She’s wearing a headlamp; it’s still turned on. She raises a hand to turn it off since it’s not needed in the automatic lighting of the fossil collections.

“That tends to happen when you’re a wet lab specimen.”

“You know about that?” I ask as Snail peeks out of their shell, eyestalks fixed on her. The curator’s gaze tracks up at them, then back to my cloudy eyes.

“Yes. How do you think MacMorgan got a new I.D. so quickly?” Seeing my look of concern, she adds, “I don’t mind if you leave the wet lab, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

“Uhh… okay…” I say, still trying to process the new turn of events.

“Some people think that this building is haunted. I see why they would say that. I passed you in the hall earlier, you look very sinister,” she says, smiling.

“That was you, with the light? I thought it was a grad student! Dammit, I need to be more careful,” I reply, looking perturbed.

“You could, or you could keep letting the world believe that this building is haunted.” The curator seems to be enjoying this conversation. She reaches out a hand to pet Snail’s shell. After a few moments, she speaks again, “It can be our little secret.”

“You’re not scared by me? I’m literally dead and pickled, how are you fine with this?”

She laughs again. “I used to work in a wet lab, I’m quite accustomed to seeing preserved organisms. And if you want to have a little fun at night, I suppose I can continue to turn a blind eye.”

I nod awkwardly, surprised by her casual demeanor. The curator holds out her phone, the screen showing a clock that reads 4:13 a.m. 

“For now, it’s time to go back to bed,” she says as the screen turns off. I stare into my reflection in the black glass.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get back to wet lab,” I say, realizing that I’m starting to feel the sluggish feeling that heralds in the morning.

She smiles, turning her headlamp back on as we leave the fossil collections. The curator walks off, disappearing into the shadows of the halls as Snail and I hurry back home. I swipe the I.D. and duck inside, stopping for a moment as I’m hit with the strong smell of ethanol. I help Troy back into his tub, coax Snail into their jar, and gather up the fish swimming in my tub. We’re all much more sluggish as the morning starts to roll in, seeing the sky start to lighten through the window. At last, I collapse back into my tub, trying not to splash too much as I let the ethanol settle back around me.

I drift off into the long day, holding on to the memories of the night. My cloudy eyes don’t close as my muscles stiffen, ready to stay motionless for the next day in the bright lights of the lab. I could run these halls forever, reveling in the shadows of forgotten, forever preserved lives, permeated in the scent of ethanol and mothballs.

[theperfectread]

Short story I'm writing, please give feedback!!!

“Ow!” Rain squealed.

“Oh hush, it’s just a little prick.” Mrs. Drew, Rain’s seamstress, scolded. 

Rain Maussant stood on a stool in the middle of her room while Mrs. Drew worked on stitching up her dress, and this was the fifth time she got poked by the needle. She looked out the window and watched the yellow leaves fall from the old trees surrounding her yard. The gardener raked, he had been cleaning the vast lawn since early that morning. He gathered all the leaves into a large pile by one of the trees and walked off in a hurry, wiping sweat off his brow. Rain’s gaze drifted to the giant mountains, far in the distance, and imagined all that could be there. They were majestic, huge, and dotted with millions of pine trees. Snow gave the mountains an iridescent quality. The mountains formed a wall between her town and the world beyond. It was difficult to pass them, and not everyone who made the trip came back alive. 

She was dreaming of all the adventures she could have when her eyes focused back on the yard, and that pile of leaves. Specifically, the tree it was by. Was it shaking? She leaned slightly closer to the window and was promptly jabbed with the needle. Straightening, Rain watched her younger sister, Holly, climb down the tree and hover on the branch right above the leaf pile. This couldn’t be ending well, Rain rolled her eyes. Holly dropped into the pile, scattering the leaves, that had taken the morning to collect, everywhere. 

“Well, that’s about it, miss.” Mrs. Drew set about gathering her supplies, “I just don’t know how you manage to tear every dress I make for you, at 15 years you should be more careful.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be careful. Thank you so much.” Rain twirled in front of the mirror, watching the light blue dress spin. Her long red-orange hair swished around her hips, and the dress brought out the bright blue of her eyes. She thought she looked pretty, if a little overdone. 

Mrs. Drew smiled, assuring her it was nothing at all, and walked off to put away her sewing things.

Rain picked up her dress and rushed down the stairs. Holly was still kicking around the leaves, and Rain whisked her up into her arms. They ran around, chasing each other for a bit before strolling down a well-trodden trail in their woods.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Rain laughed, sidestepping a small snail in the middle of the trail. 

Holly skipped ahead, “Not as much as you, though. Mother will kill you if you ruin another dress.” 

“Is it really my fault they won’t let me wear pants? They should know better by now.” Rain said, but she took care to make sure her dress stayed clean and above the ground, “Now hurry, it’s almost time for tea.”

The girls circled back and made their way to the house. They stopped a couple of times for an adorable fawn and a tiny squirrel but made good time. The house came into view and Rain admired its grand beauty. It was two stories tall, made of gray brick and cobblestone. It had black shutters, and each window had a white curtain and candles on the windowsill. It was a large property, surrounded by woods. Far enough from town for privacy, but not too far to be considered outcasts. 

Walking inside the colossal doors, Rain looked back wistfully at the mountains, just for a moment, then continued into the hall. The walls were hung with countless paintings of past ancestors, great-grandfathers, and great-grandmothers that she never knew. Toward the end of the hall, the last painting was of her own family. Her parents, brother, her and her sister. The Maussants.

Down the corridor she and Holly picked up the pace, finally bursting through the doors into the dining room. All heads turned to look at them. Her father sat at the head of the table, stern-looking and serious. His broad shoulders gave him a strong demeanor, and his hair, despite graying, was still thick and full. But then he smiled, and his eyes softened. He motioned for them to sit. 

Rain took her spot next to her brother, who sat at her father’s left, and Holly sat next to her mother, at her father’s right. Fidgeting with her napkin, Rain waited for the cook to bring out lunch and tea. 

“So, Hawke.” Her mother eyed her brother, “Tomorrow, you should be leaving the house at dawn if you want to make it in time.”

Hawke stretched and grinned, “Of course, mother. But what about…?”

“What? What’s happening tomorrow?” Rain asked, her mind running through possibilities. Was her idiotic older brother leaving to find work?

[nancypullen]

Oops

What was I thinking when I said "tomorrow"? I knew that the Edgewater gang was arriving Friday after work and I'd be wrapped up in playing Barbies and visiting pumpkin patches all day Saturday. Sorry. We had a ball with them and as I type this she's sound asleep in her own bed. She's growing up too fast and I'd love to freeze her at this age for a couple of years. Let her be little a while longer. BUT, as much as I'd love to fill this space daily with delightful tales of our little miss, I wont. I'm not allowed to post photos of her and that's half the fun, right? So here I am, talking one last time about our trip to Ireland. I won't bore you with dozens more photos of villages, castles, or the almost-too-green-to-be-true landscapes. I'll share a little something that I'd never thought about and that I found pleasantly surprising. Snails.

Those little suckers were everywhere. I mean, it makes sense. Snails like damp places, Ireland is quite damp, perfect spot! I first noticed how numerous they were on a walk along Ballinskelligs Bay. This particular bay, on the Wild Atlantic Way, was a treat. The mister wanted to climb around on the ruins of McCarthy Mór Tower, a castle built in the 1500's on a narrow spit in order to protect the bay.

I snapped that from quite a ways back, it's bigger than it looks here. While he scrambled around, getting the photos that he wanted. I enjoyed my stroll toward a 12th century abbey a bit further down. As I walked and enjoyed the fresh ocean air, I was disgusted by what I thought was quite a bit of dog poop on the path. It was everywhere! I was grumbling about irresponsible owners who don't pick up after their pets when I noticed one of the pieces of poop was moving across the trail. It was slugs! BIG ones!

I started looking a bit closer as I walked and lo and behold, the ground was heavily populated with snails.

I've always thought snails are absolutely adorable, so this discovery was just one more thing to enjoy in Ireland. Even though I was enthralled by the ancient abbey (and its wonderful graveyard!) the little mollusks were a sweet bonus that afternoon. Maybe Irish gardeners would disagree with me, but I never minded having a few snails in the garden. They mainly eat dead leaves and plants and their poop is good fertilizer, but I've never been overrun with them either. After this particular stroll I started looking a bit more closely everywhere we went, and there they were! Hedges, berry bushes, potted plants, stone walls, tree trunks...everywhere!

Does Ireland have a national animal? If not, I have a suggestion. And while I'm on the topic of flora and fauna, I noticed tons of hedges along country roads with small red flowers on them. We zipped by too quickly for me to get a good look, so I was delighted when I walked around on Inisheer and spotted some.

Imagine my surprise when I looked closer and realized that it was a whole hedge of Fuchsia! Sometimes called Bleeding Heart, I've only ever seen it in hanging baskets at garden centers - something like this.

But those big, healthy hedges were covered in blooms!

We were there in October, I'll bet these are glorious in the summer. Am I the last person to know that Fuchsia could get that big? Anyway, cute snails and unexpected floral revelations - Ireland delighted even in the most ordinary ways. Before I sign off and head for bed, back to that abbey on Ballinskelligs Bay for a moment. Here's a blurb if you care to read it:

It was windswept and haunting.

I thoroughly enjoyed the graveyard.

Some headstones were very old, some more recent. But along one wall of the abbey, there was a crumbling headstone too weathered to be legible. Beside it, mounted on the wall, was this ...

That is absolutely the best tribute to a departed soul that I've ever read. Isn't it just wonderful? "Much natural acuteness of mind, genuine wit, and original humor...honesty, fidelity, and courage." But the big finish, that Maurice "valued him living and regrets him dead", oh my. Isn't that all any of us can hope for? I just loved it. Makes me wish I'd known him. I'd love to know more about him. I wonder how many Patrick O'Sullivans died in Ireland in 1841? Probably a lot. But how many are buried at Ballinskellig Abbey? As far as I know, just the one. Good place to start. On that note, thinking of a life well-lived and appreciated, I'm going to drag my underachieving self off to bed. I have a full day of mediocrity ahead of me tomorrow, I need my rest. It takes everything I've got to be this average. Sending out loads of love tonight. Take what ya' need. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[xinyansho]

Genshin men carrying their s/o when their feet hurt

GN READER

FT: Childe, Diluc, and Thoma,

Yes ooc sorry!

enjoy! এ

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Childe

Childe would notice you slowly walking behind him

Not keeping up with him like u usually do making him a little annoyed because he's a fast walker

He noticed when u stopped walking and your legs starting to hurt too

"it's quite downtown." Childe said "The streets of Liyue are never like this that much right y/n." he said with a big grin on his face. Childe and you had been walking for hours your feet began to hurt. You slowed down behind him almost trailing behind like a snail "that's not good he thought." "Hey Y/N are you tired." Childe said acting as if he literally didn't know the answer your face showed that you were a little annoyed by his remark so he stopped making the stupid face and picked you up. "Woah HEY Childeeee what are you doing." you said in a whisper voice embarrassed by the people looking at you your cheeks changing to a light pink. "Why my sweet darling is tired how could I not help you out and carry you." he said smiling, you allowed yourself to be carried by this Ginger headed man covering your face all the way until you reached your destination.

Diluc

------------------------

It started off as a little run around him following you like always as you run errands

You ran everywhere their was no stopping you everytime he tried to catch up with you, it's like you ran farther away from him

It wasn't until he finally caught up to you did he notice you bending down holding your legs to help you warm them up

A little stroll around Mondstat sounded nice to you. Getting out the house was something you always loved especially when your boyfriend came with you. He didn't come out the house a lot unless it was for work or to help maintain the garden of berries growing in his yard infront of the Dawn winery. You walked a little faster than him wanted to get to good hunter soon to buy some food,

you unfortunately ended up leaving him behind you not noticing until you asked him if you should cook for dinner or no. "Diluc..." no reply "Diluc." you turned around thinking your red head was behind you nope he wasn't their "did I walk to fast you thought." you looked around and sighed "quess I have to run errands by myself" you said mumbling. Buying the food from good hunter you speed walked over to the fruit stand near the front entrance and bought s few apples, and grapes walking to knights of Favonious headquarters you went to rent out a book you we're lucky too it was the last one.

You walked down like ten flights of stairs when you saw a red haired Male look frantically around for you, running up behind him you scared him making him tense up a bit. "Hello diluc." you smiled as you fixed your shoe your feet hurt so bad from walking so fast so you tried to stand still to stop the pain but it didn't work. "Ahh Feeling a little tired today are we." he said bending down next to you as you fixed your shoe and grabbing the bags from your arms. "A little, but I'm oka-" he picked you up very fast you felt like you had been lifted up by the archons. You felt the muscle on his chest making your cheeks a little pink. "I hope you don't mind me darling you seemed tired." he said and had a small smile on his face. You stayed their not wanting to move his chest and arms were comfortable after all.

Thoma

----------------------------

HE WAS SO MAD AT YOU FOR HELPING YOU WITH HIS HOUSEWORK

HE LITERALLY PICKED YOU UP AND CATERED TO YOU FOR THE REST OF THE DAY FORGET HIS WORK.

--

"Thoma it's just a few things I wanna help you." a sigh left his mouth "Fine just this once Y/N just don't get hurt." he said "it's a little housework what can you do wrong." He gave you a blank stare and then walked away he had given you less than half of his list of chores. You wante to help him out today because he had seemed tired but it's just him sometimes. Your list was simple make beds, clean the floors and sweeping. I see he gave me all the easy one. You sighed a little annoyed you hoped he let you help him more. Walking over to Ayaka's room you fixed her bed and fluffed her pillows folding the clothes she had slept in and placed them in the laundry basket and set out a new pair of sleepwear for her tonight. You took the basket downstairs too the washing machine and put the clothes in, you went to Ayato's room and did the same it seemed as if his room was untouched though because he barley ever slept in his room he was always on the move can't blame him he's a hard worker. So you remade his bed and dusted the shelfs inside his room. You helped in the kitchen and after that you helped outside with the weeds and planted new flowers too. You finally had gotten a break but before you could even get up from the ground You feel someone lift you up... It's Thoma! "What are you doing?" you asked in a quiet tone, he smiled and said "We'll you've been working pretty hard today so I thought I would let you take your break and relax for the rest of the day, besides you did like nearly all of the housework today too, also it's my job to be doing this stuff too." he looked at you dead in the eyes at the last part, you looked away from him and smiled at least his caring you thought...

Anyways yeah sorry for not posting but I literally couldn't I was low-key forgot about the but I just finished it so yay

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Meet-Cute

Here you have some meet-cute to brighten your day. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

I Second that Emotion, by firebrands, pre-serum Steve, 3 k > words.

Steve Rogers’ night is shaping up to be a disaster. He curses to himself as he makes his way through his small apartment for the third time, picking up pillows and strewn about clothes in an attempt to find his mock-ups. “Fuck!” he shouts, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands, feeling utterly defeated. Steve looks up at the sound of soft tap-tapping of paws against the wooden floor and Dodger sticks his head right under the crook of Steve’s shoulder to peer up at him.

good directions by parkrstark, 3 k > words, Single Dad Steve.

"Way up yonder past the caution light, there's a little country store with an old coke sign. First, you gotta ask Miss Romanoff for some of her sweet tea. Best I've ever had on this side of the Mason Dixon."

The man was smiling softly. "Oh, is it now?"

"Wouldn't lie about sweet tea, sir," Steve replied seriously. "After you try some for yourself, you can take a left at the turn, and it'll take you to the interstate."

The man nodded his head, but he hesitated as if he didn't want to leave.

Steve cleared his throat, daring to shoot his shot. The worst that could happen was that the man could laugh at him. "But, if you take a right, it'll take you right back here to me."

Swiping Right by S_Horne, 5 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

The Pawfect Meeting by FestiveFerret, 5 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

Steve's annoyed when a man brings his kid to the dog park without a dog - it's a dog park, not a daycare - but the kid turns out to be calm and gentle, and the dad turns out to be smoking hot.

Then he turns out to be sweet, and kind, and funny, and wonderful too...

Love and Other Words by kenzithewriter, 4 k > words, Alternate Universe - Bookstore.

When Pepper drags Tony along to a local book signing event, the last thing he meant to do is go on a long winded rant about a book series to a complete stranger, but then he also hadn't been planning on joining Pepper at all, so there's that. Fun meet-cute idea that wouldn't leave me alone.

Christmas Rush by FestiveFerret, 1 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

The inside of the store was packed to the gills with last minute gift buyers, and Tony grit his teeth and elbowed his way in. He dodged carts all the way to the Disney area and started scanning the aisles. Halfway down was the Frozen 2 section. Tony checked the boxes. Elsa… Anna… Elsa… Olaf… shit.

There was an empty shelf where the Bruni toys were supposed to be.

From Philly to Brooklyn by FestiveFerret, 3 k > words, Single Dad Steve.

"Sorry," Steve murmured, exhausted from balancing his humiliation with sympathy for his exhausted son.

The man waved a hand vaguely towards his head. "Too much loud music and machinery. Doesn't bother me. He okay?"

"Yeah." Steve sighed. "Just been a long day."

Peter stopped sobbing for a moment to rub a snail trail across the front of Steve's shirt to turn and face the man, brow furrowed with skepticism.

Steve shook his head, unable to help smiling.

"Hey, kiddo," the man said. His lips twitched to the side. "What have you got to complain about, huh? Too many bills to pay? Boss treating you badly? Furnace needs replacing?”

And When You Smile (The Whole World Stops and Stares For a While) by Iggysassou, 2 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

"Tony winced as the baby in his arms let out another deafening scream, earning several disapproving frowns and a few sympathetic wince from nearby passengers.

Of all the days for his car to break down and Happy to be on holiday, it had to be the day Peter was throwing the biggest, loudest tantrum in his (albeit short) life. And as if it wasn’t bad enough, Tony hadn’t been able to get a taxi so they were riding a bus home. It was a supposed to be a short ride according to his phone but of course there was traffic because it was both raining and rush hour and Tony felt very much like crying as Peter let out another wail."

Inspired by this prompt: "I'm on the bus with my baby who won't stop crying, except you just smiled at them and they did”

When Love Comes Knocking (You Out) by itsallAvengers, 8 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

Steve really just wanted to buy some goddamn groceries.

Instead, he tries to help a kid who's managed to get lost in a Walmart parking lot and ends up being punched in the face by his irate and panicked father.

Surprisingly, this doesn't turn out as badly as it sounds.

A Second Chance to Take It Slow by ohjustpeachy, 4 k > words, Single Dad Tony.

Tony loves his adopted son, Peter, but that doesn't stop him from wishing he had someone to do this whole parenting thing with. After a failed one night stand, Tony's parent-teacher conference with Mr. Rogers comes with quite the surprise.

[artificialqueens]

I'm on a race and I'm doing fine (thank you) (Pearlet) - Vladonna

An: I don’t give a rat’s ass about staying anonymous, I just feel like the world needs more Pearlet, so here’s a little fic based on season 7 of RPDR and RPDR Untucked. Hope you enjoy it literally - heels.

“I’m, like, dripping everywhere,” Violet says, because, well, that seems like a reasonable and completely logical first thing to say to someone you don’t even know all that well.

“That’s disgusting,” Pearl manages to look offended, scandalised, and amused all at the same time and Violet is somewhat impressed. “that’s probably what I slipped on!”

“No, that’s not what happened, bitch,” Violet laughs, “I wasn’t even over there!”

“You know I slipped on your lubey ass,” Pearl insists and Violet just stares at him. He has to seriously bite his tongue not to say something cheeky about just how lubey his ass can get.

“Leaving snail trail over the goddamn runway,” Pearl mumbles under his breath and so they’re laughing uncontrollably again.

“Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you for the next hour while they deliberate?” Pearl asks, but it’s not really mean or said in a way that suggests he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Let’s have a kai kai!” Violet tries to sound sarcastic and not like all he really wants is for Pearl to take him apart, little by little, right there and then, on that tacky sofa, in front of all those cameras (nothing he hasn’t done before, really).

And then suddenly they are talking and it’s so good and Pearl is funny and smart and witty and Violet doesn’t really feel like shutting up anytime soon. They forget all about the cameras and the crew around them and other girls being criticised just few feet away.

When the rest of the bitches finally pile in from the main stage, Violet catches himself wishing that he had just a little bit more time with just Pearl. But as everyone engages in the conversation about today’s main stage, Pearl’s hand says between them, their fingers not quite intertwined but just close enough for Violet to know that the placement is not an accident on Pearl’s side.

And when Pearl moves to comfort Max and touch up his make up, Violet still finds himself gravitating toward him. It’s a funny feeling, one that Violet hasn’t felt in ages and it’s kinda good and exciting, but a hell of a lot scary at the same time.

But the most beautiful thing is that Pearl doesn’t seem to mind his company, doesn’t seem to oppose the idea of them spending more time together and Violet tries not to read too much into it, tries not to get too excited about just one hour long conversation, but he still can’t seem to shake off the feeling that there’s a promise of something unclear lingering somewhere here.

So he couldn’t tell what the hell came over him for the love of all that is holy, but somehow he finds himself showcasing Pearl the sequin between his legs and the next thing he knows is that Pearl isn’t telling him to fuck off but instead is showing him something that doesn’t even remotely resemble a tuck and good god, that really is a handful and Violet feels really inappropriate about being this turned on.

They’re interrupted by the five minute warning and then they’re pushed around like they always are and then Max gets sent home and then there’s some more pushing around and Violet could swear he sees Pearl shred a few tears but he can’t get close enough to check, can’t get close enough to talk to Pearl and they’re just pushed around and then it’s time to shoot the workroom scene and Max is gone and its shit and then they’re pushed into the cars and driven to the hotel and Violet is stuck between Kennedy and Ginger Minj and he’d rather poke himself in the eye with a fork than listen to those two but he’s out of drag already so he hasn’t even got a heel on him.

So it’s hours until Violet sees Pearl again. It’s dark outside already and he finds Pearl at the back door of the hotel, leaning on the wall and smoking. He’d thought he’d find Pearl here, but he’s still a bit surprised, as usually Pearl’s here with Katya, doing some crazy shit and chain smoking. Tonight’s different, though, and Pearl is alone and he’s looking really small and actually really really tired.

Violet leans on the wall next to Pearl and just breathes in the smoke Pearl exhales and the night is really quiet and chilly and Violet feels really tired, too, like the competition is finally too much and the weight of the world on his shoulders is too much, too, and Pearl is solid next to him and it’s comforting on some mysterious level.

“I can’t believe Max’s gone,” Pearl says in the middle of his second cigarette and his voice is tiny and defeated.

“It’s shit,” Violet says.

“You know, he really came through when I most needed someone to slap me awake,” Pearl says.

“It’s shit,” Violet says again, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m just gonna miss him,” Pearl shrugs.

They fall into silence again and Pearl lights another cigarette and the darkness is getting darker and Violet hates that he’s not good enough with people, that he doesn’t know how to make it better, make them feel better.

“D’you wanna come upstairs?” Violet says finally.

“Yeah, I’ll be just a second,” Pearl says, motioning to his dying cigarette.

Violet almost turns around and walks away, but. This is so insane and stupid and reckless and he really wants to do it and he’s just so shit at telling himself no and Pearl with a cigarette between his lips is just such a turn on and this is gonna go down as the prime example of his shitty life decision making skills and just fuck it.

“No, I mean, do you want to come upstairs with me?” He asks instead of walking away.

Pearl doesn’t say anything, just stumps his cigarette and nudges Violet gently toward the door, follows him inside and into the elevator. As they ride up, Pearl intertwines his fingers with Violet’s and it makes something in Violet’s stomach feel funny and he resents himself for that a little.

“I swear, if you’re still tucked, I will not touch you,” Pearl smirks.

“Bitch,” Violet laughs.

Pearl lets Violet lead him to his door and into his room and soon as the door is shut behind them, Violet’s back is pushed against it. Violet imagined Pearl to be gentle and almost zen with his movements, but instead Pearl’s lips on his are demanding and rough, borderline aggressive and Violet loves it, lives for it and is just as hungry when he kisses Pearl back.

Pearl lifts Violet and Violet throws his legs around Pearl’s waist and Pearl grabs his ass and it feels amazing and their lips stay pressed together the entire time and Pearl’s biting Violet’s lower lip and Violet is already producing sounds that are not completely human which is a little bit embarrassing, giving that they’re not even undressed yet.

Pearl carries Violet to bed and throws him on it and climbs on top of him and this must be the hottest thing to happen to Violet in months. He lifts his head and Pearl’s lips are right there, catching his and kissing him again and Violet can taste the cigarettes and something minty and Pearl’s hands are all over his body and Violet wants more.

“Get me out of these clothes,” he pants into Pearl’s mouth, “Jesus, get yourself out of those clothes.”

“I always knew you were a slut,” Pearl laughs, but pushes his hand down Violet’s pants, “Girl, do you not wear any underwear, like, ever?”

“Nah,” Violet laughs, ���I just let my lubey ass hang loose at all times.”

“Slut,” Pearl laughs again and kisses Violet and wraps his hand around Violet and the contact is so sudden yet so needed that Violet full on whimpers.

“Oh, my God, how do you tuck all of this?” Pearl sounds disbelieving.

“That’s a medical mystery,” Violet deadpans and Pearl laughs, “And by the looks of it, you’ve got at least as much going on down there.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t tuck and just smash it with my six pairs of tights.”

Then Pearl kisses Violet quiet, and as much as Violet loves the banter, he loves this even more, loves Pearl’s hands and lips on his body, loves how Pearl grinds his hips against Violet’s, loves how heavy the air between them is with the smell of sweat and sex, loves how uneven Pearl’s breath gets and how firm his touches stay.

They undress each other with no finesse to their movements, hurried to get all that unnecessary fabric out of their way. When they’re both naked, Pearl grinds down again, rubbing their dicks together and Violet isn’t capable of anything else than rolling his eyes and moaning like the filthiest hooker on earth. He’s pretty sure Katya’s able to hear everything from the other side of the wall, but oh well.

Pearl keeps sliding his dick against Violet’s with no rhythm whatsoever and he sinks his teeth intoViolet’s collarbone and Violet is pretty sure his sheets are being ruined under his fists. Violet can practically see the orgasm coming behind his closed lids before he can feel it and then Pearl thrusts like it’s the only thing he knows, once, twice, three times, and the orgasm just washes over Violet like a fucking tsunami and he’s gasping for air and Pearl thrusts again and then he’s coming, to, and Violet wants to sob just the tiniest bit.

Violet covers his face with his hands and Pearl collapses on the bed next to him and threads his fingers through Violet’s hair.

“That was unexpectedly high energy for such a tired person,” Violet smirks.

”You really are a shady cunt,” Pearl hums and keeps playing with Violet’s hair. Slowly, their breath becomes even and finally, Violet feels like he could move without his muscles spasming violently, so he leans over Pearl and grabs the first piece of clothing he can reach from the floor and half-heartedly cleans Pearl and then himself.

“You dirty whore,” Pearl laughs. “That was my shirt.”

“I’ll buy you something pretty when I win the $100,000,” Violet promises and tries to pat Pearl’s chest, but lands on his face instead.

“Doesn’t save me from the shame of walking down the hallway in a shirt covered in your come,” Pearl kicks him lazily and Violet bursts into laughter.

“Bitch, you should be honoured to have been anywhere near my lady parts.”

“Must be hard to get fucked by anyone when you’re this full of yourself.”

Violet laughs again and throws a blanket over them. ”Shut up now, bitch, I need my beauty sleep.”

They curl into each other and as Violet drifts to sleep, the last thought to cross his mind is that this is actually quite nice.

*

When Violet wakes up the next morning, Pearl’s gone. His side of the bed is cold, too, so Violet guesses he’s been gone for a while now. It’s not exactly surprising per se, but it is kinda unpleasant nonetheless. Violet gets into the shower, and as the stream of water that is just a tad too hot washes the ghost of Pearl’s touch on his body away, he thinks that Of course Pearl would wake up to regret this, and why wouldn’t he when it’s Violet they’re talking about and Violet is not very likeable in any way really, and Violet is someone to get off with and then sneak out on and definitely not someone to wake up to.

He gets out of the shower and there’s a loud bang on his door like there is every single morning like a clockwork and then it’s being pushed around and squeezed into the car again and Katya looks at him funnily but doesn’t say anything because Fame is in the car as well and Violet thanks all the gods above that this, of all times, is the time that Katya decides to act like a fully functioning member of the society with an actual brain to mouth filter.

He doesn’t see Pearl until the workroom and even there, Pearl doesn’t fully meet his eyes and it sucks but Violet isn’t there to pine after stupid boys, after a stupid boy, so he might as well not start now.

And then he hasn’t really got all that much time to pine after anyone, because the race is on again and they bring all the eliminated bitches back and Violet gets paired up with Max, which is nice because Max is a distraction and Violet doesn’t have time to notice how close to each other Trixie and Pearl are standing and how Trixie rests his hand on Pearl’s shoulder and hip and the small of Pearl’s back (he notices and it’s driving him crazy and he stares at them so intensely that he sticks a couple of pins into his finger instead of the dress he’s trying to construct for the challenge).

And then those two manage to win and Trixie almost makes out with Pearl right there, on the stage, and had Violet not been attached to Max, he would have started a cat fight right in front of RuPaul and the judges, which would basically have been the perfect fucking summary of the joke that his life has become.

The week after that baby Jesus hates him enough to put him in a group with Pearl and Miss Fame. He doesn’t get a moment alone with Pearl, because Fame is always there and Pearl seems to be frustrated and annoyed and they keep snapping at each other with Fame and Violet hates being in the middle of that.

They’re not ignoring each other, he tells himself. They’re just really busy with the competition and it’s not like they’re not being civil or something.

That week Pearl has to lipsync and Violet can’t bring himself to watch, so he just closes his eyes and prays that Pearl gets his shit together.

Thank fuck, Pearl does.

The next episode they have to dance and Violet gets to pair them up. He’s dying to choose Pearl, but he has to think strategically, has to win this, so he chooses Katya and pairs Pearl up with Kennedy because Kennedy is solid and Violet needs a solid bitch to ensure Pearl’s place in the race.

“What was that?” Katya asks when they’re rehearsing their tango bits.

“What was what?” Violet says, trying not to trip over his or Katya’s limbs because he’s graceful like that when it comes to dancing.

“The other week,” Katya says and he’s far better at not letting his limbs point in every direction. Maybe if Violet had such a control over his body, he wouldn’t fall into bed of every pretty boy and definitely wouldn’t spread his legs for then. “It was really really hard not to hear you when you were moaning the house down.”

“Um,” Violet says, “Yeah, about that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna spill. Although part of me would love to see you disqualified,” Katya smirks.

“Oh, no,” Violet laughs nervously, “It wasn’t like… It wasn’t anyone visiting or anything. It wasn’t anyone from the outside.”

Katya stares at him in suspicion that slowly turns into disbelief.

“Shut up!” he screams in a way that Katya screams things when he gets a little bit too excited. “No way! Who?”

Violet just makes the eyes at Katya.

“Shut. Up,” Katya screams again, “I can’t believe you two skanks hooked up. This is brilliant. I so predicted this. I knew I got some psychic abilities from my late Russian great grandmother.”

“Bitch, there’s literally not a drop of Russian blood in you,” Violet rolls his eyes and Katya flips him off.

“Trust, there’s been plenty of other Russian body parts inside of me,” he shoots right back and Violet gags.

He wasn’t really planning on telling anyone, at least not as long as they’re both still here, but it’s still nice that someone knows, and Katya’s maybe crazy as fuck but at least he’s not devious or shady about it and that’s a hell of a lot more than Violet could ask for right now.

His plan works and they win and Pearl’s safe and if he’s just a little bit smug about Trixie being sent home, then he deserves to be and no one’s gonna know anyway.

Violet tries to just throw himself into the competition, and to some extend it must work, because he is in the top five, after all, but this thing is still bothering him. He’s got Pearl so deep under his skin that it’s driving him absolutely insane and he can’t even make a plan to sleep with Pearl to get him out of his system, because it didn’t exactly work out all that well the first time around. During the daytime, when they’re shooting, he puts up his best performance face, because he might be a worthless trinket, but he’s still the most beautiful one, but once he’s alone in his numbingly impersonal hotel room, all he can do is lay on the floor next to his bed and feel like shit.

For their second to last episode, RuPaul invites Santino back and the workroom reminds Violet of a henhouse that hasn’t had a cock around in a while. Had Miss Fame still been here, he would’ve felt right at home, really.

RuPaul brings Santino to Violet’s station, and he really is indeed very handsome and funny and flirty and pardon Violet’s poor judgement and long-ago-established-to-be-shit decision making, but Violet decides to flirt back just out of spite for everything and everyone.

“D’you have any questions for Santino?” RuPaul asks in unimpressed voice after witnessing Violet bat his eyes at Santino like crazy and strike at least three poses that include leaning on and over the table and Santino just stupidly smile back and hide behind a fucking Hello Kitty umbrella for a good couple of minutes or so.

“Can we go to Red Lobster?” the tone Violet is going for is hoarse and ruined, like I had a dick deep down my throat a second ago and I still would had you not interrupted me.

Santino bursts out laughing and RuPaul still looks lowkey disturbed, but the reaction Violet was hoping for comes from farther away. It’s a sound of something being dropped that is followed by a muffled string of curses and Violet doesn’t dare look, but he knows it’s Pearl.

Violet acts like a thirsty ass bitch for the rest of the interaction and Santino makes it easy for him up until RuPaul gets proper tired of their shit and leads Santino away from Violet’s popped hip and cheeky smile.

“I feel kinda uncomfortable right now,” Ginger says.

“I feel kinda turned on,” Katya does this thing where he whispers so loudly that the whole room can hear him.

Kennedy laughs and then stops abruptly and looks like the whole thing was so not amusing that it personally offended him.

Pearl beheads a Hello Kitty toy.

*

That night, Violet’s pity party is interrupted by a loud knock on his door. He’s pretty sure there’s no more filming today and that doesn’t exactly sound like room service . Maybe they need some extra behind the scenes material, he thinks to himself as he makes his way up from the floor and to the door. Or maybe Santino’s here to take him to Red Lobster. At this point he’ll sleep with anyone to get the crown.

He just about manages to open the door and before he knows it, he’s being pushed back into the room and thrown against the wall and there’s a set of lips pressed to his.

“What the fuck,” Pearl growls into his ear and kicks the door shut.

“Um,” Violet has time to say before Pearl’s lips smash into his again.

There’s nothing gentle or careful about Pearl’s touch this time around. He’s plain aggressive and it hurts. It hurts when he grabs Violet’s wrists and when he sinks his nails into Violet’s shoulders, it hurts when he grabs Violet’s chin and presses their lips together, when he pulls Violet’s hair to get a better angle and bite the delicate skin on Violet’s neck, it hurts when he pins Violet against the wall and pushes Violet’s legs apart with one of his own, pressing just enough and in all the right places for it to be a tease.

It hurts like a little bitch and absolutely nothing has ever turned Violet on the way this does.

Pearl tugs Violet off the wall by his shirt and pushes him toward the bed.

“You. Are. Absolutely. Fucking. Unbelievable,” Pearl hisses and punctuates every words with a little push.

They stop when Violet’s legs hit the bed and Pearl is standing so close Violet can feel Perl’s uneven breath on his face.

“Unfortunately you will have to be more clear about that,” Violet whispers.

“Red Lobster, Violet?” Pearl says. “Can we go to fucking Red fucking Lobster, Violet?”

Oh.

“What are you-?”

“You are so fucking Vogue, Violet, so let me just eye fuck you into oblivion right here in front of everyone and then take you to a fucking dinner and fuck you for reaL!” Pearl is practically shouting now.

“Are you jealous of Santino, baby?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know,” Pearl says. “I just really don’t want anyone else to take you out for dinner.”

Violet laughs at that and wraps his arms around Pearl’s neck and kisses him. Pearl’s still aggressive and adamant, but at least he’s not being hurtful anymore. Although, on the second thought, Violet kinda liked it rough.

“I hated seeing you so ready to bend over and take it.”

“I’m always ready to bend over and take it,” Violet says coyly. “Wanna do it right now?”

Pearl looks like he’s actually considering it for a moment and something in his eyes darkens.

“I’d love to fuck you on every surface in this room, but I kinda had something else planned,” he says.

And then Violet is pushed up against the wall again and Pearl drops on his knees in front of him and Violet fucking squeaks when it hits him what’s going on.

Pearl unbuckles Violet’s jeans and tugs them off of him and Violet can’t help but stare at Pearl in admiration, trying to somehow grasp the context of this angelic creature on his knees in front of him.

Pearl’s a fucking tease, taking his sweet time licking Violet’s lower stomach and biting the insides of Violet’s thighs (he’ll have to cover those marks with make up for their runway tomorrow) and pressing Violet’s hips back against the wall every time he tries to thrust them forward. He’s literally not touched Violet’s dick and Violet’s still approximately as hard as it’s humanly possible to get.

And then Pearl finally has enough mercy to wrap his mouth around Violet and Violet lets out a moan that is so embarrassingly loud and desperate that he’ll deny ever producing it until his dying breath. Pearl looks Violet straight in the eye and he looks so smug and pleased with himself and the situation, like he was born to do this and he loves every second of it and if Violet bangs his head into the wall a couple of times, then, well, those brain cells were worth it.

The things Pearl is doing with his tongue and lips and hand are so good, like seriously magical and they make Violet howl and moan and plead and wince like he’s an actress in a really bad porn movie and he wants this to last forever but at this rate he’s not gonna last long, especially if Pearl keeps doing that thing with his tongue and the tip of Violet’s cock.

“Pearl,” he pleads and tries to pull Pearl up, “I’m not gonna- Just gonna- So close.”

Pearl just does that thing again, and again and oh, alright, then. Violet pushes his fingers into Pearl’s hair and bangs his head into the wall again (Hello Katya, literally) and whimpers.

And then Pearl’s tongue does something no one has ever done to Violet before and that’s it. That pushes him over the edge and he orgasms so violently his legs give out and thank God for Pearl pinning him against the wall, because otherwise he would’ve collapsed.

Pearl just swallows all of it, still managing to look pleased and yup. Violet is permanently ruined for anyone else.

He pulls Pearl up again, and this time Pearl doesn’t resist, gets up from the floor licking his lips like he just had the tastiest meal ever and is still hungry for more, that smug bitch. They press their lips together and Pearl’s still pressing Violet against the wall and Violet can taste himself in Pearl’s mouth and as always, it’s a little weird but in a hot way.

Violet pushes his hand down Pearl’s pants and Pearl is hard and leaking, perfect really. Violet wraps his hand around Pearl and the tiniest gasp leaves Pearl’s lips and Violet starts to work it, slide his hand up and down Pearl’s length and Pearl is panting into Violet’s ear and gently nibbling his earlobe and kissing his neck. It doesn’t take long, just a few rough, quick strokes, and a few gentle ones in between them and Pearl buries his face into Violet’s shoulder to muffle the moan he lets out as he comes.

They collapse onto bed, a sweaty and only halfway undressed mess of limbs. Suddenly, there’s a bang on the wall that startles them from their stupor.

“Yas, come through, mama,” Katya shouts from the other side of the wall, and then, a few seconds later, “Atta girl, Pearl!”

“That was very disturbing on so many different levels,” Perl laughs shaking his head and Violet just chuckles.

“You know, now I kinda wish they would have brought Santino in earlier,” Violet says.

“You’re such a dumb whore,” Pearl laughs again.

They fall into silence and Pearl strokes the hair on Violet’s temple gently and for a moment Violet just lets himself feel very very happy.

And then Pearl shifts uncomfortably and pulls his arm from beneath Violet and Violet sits up because this looks awfully lot like leaving.

“Stay the night,” he says hurriedly.

Pearl just stares back at him.

“Please?” Violet says.

“Yeah,” Pearl says finally, “Yeah, sure.”

He undresses and gets back into bed with Violet and Violet wraps his arm around Pearl’s waist and spoons him.

*

In the morning Violet wakes up with face full of hair. It takes him a second to realise the smell and warmth of Pearl next to him and another minute to remember what’s going on. His bare chest is pressed against Pearl’s back, and so is his painfully obvious morning wood.

“Excited to see me?” Pearl asks and his voice is raspy with sleep yet still amused.

“Very,” Violet chuckles.

“You fucking pervert.”

Violet laughs and Pearl gets up and starts getting dressed.

“Gotta go get ready before they take us to the studios,” he says looking for his shirt. “I can’t go near Ginger and Kennedy smelling like a prostitute.”

“You think they would mind and Katya wouldn’t, then?” Violet asks bemusedly.

“Oh, it would just smell like home to Katya, I don’t think he’d mind.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Violet giggles and Pearl just shakes his head and fishes his shirt from underneath Violet’s bed.

“Okay, wifey, daddy’s off to work now,” Pearl says and turns to leave, but before he makes it too far, Violet grabs his wrist and Pearl turns to look at him.

“If I don’t get a chance to say this later, good luck today, yeah?” Violet says. Pearl just nods and leans in to kiss Violet once more before he goes.

*

Violet kills the runway and Santino lives for it, so Pearl growls into Violet’s ear backstage and sucks a visible mark on his neck.

Natalie flips her shit for that and shouts at Violet to cover it up and at Pearl to go sit on his hands and do nothing until it’s time to move again.

Katya gets sent home and it is shit but does increase Violet’s chances at winning considerably.

The last episode is a lot of work and they have close to nonexistent amount of time off and they’re all tired and snappy and, quite frankly, the workroom feels like the explosion waiting to happen. But Violet and Pearl manage to steal little moments, ones that don’t look significant, yet feel paramount. It’s nothing that the cameras or people around them should be able to catch, mainly because Natalie is still onto them and Pearl is scared shitless of her. So it’s a little brush of a hand against hand when they walk past one another, or a little smile across the room, or standing just a tad too close to each other when they’re lined up for something and Violet has never felt this excited to keep something a secret. It’s almost addictive, the rush of adrenaline when they do something risky, something that could get them caught, the fact that only Violet knows what Pearl sounds like when he pleads and how he sinks his teeth or nails into Violet’s skin when he comes and what Violet needs to do with his wrist to drive him crazy, the feeling of superiority and power when another day has gone by and they’ve still managed to fool all of them.

And then the producers want them to do some nonsense shit for the camera to create a dramatic pretty girls versus bitter old bitch brigade or whatever the fuck Kennedy and Ginger call themselves moment and it feels like winning the whole drag Race because they get to interact with each other in ways that aren’t making large eyes at each other and pointing at things with their slightly tilted heads.

They hide in the corner where Pearl keeps all his dresses an pretend to play dress up. It’s actually good, since they get to talk about their last runway looks, Violet thinks because, well, while he enjoys sliding his fingers into Pearl, he’d really like the crown, too.

“How about this one?” Pearl asks, emerging from the bottom of his closet space with a fucking robe and a underdress to go with it.

“Where the fuck did you get that robe?” Violet laughs in disbelief and throws it over his shoulders.

“That is not a robe, you savage bitch,” Pearl gasps overdramatically, “That is a part of my vintage dress.”

“How many times have you gotten fucked in this?” Violet chuckles taking the underdress from Pearl and inspecting it.

“Once or twice,” Pearl laughs shrugging and Violet kinda regrets asking, so he covers his microphone and leans very close to Pearl.

“If you wear that today. I want to blow you after the show while you’re still wearing that,” he whispers.

Pearl kinda chokes on his own spit and Violet has to run away because Natalie has spotted them and is looking furious on the other side of the room.

*

They make it to the top three and Violet wants to burst out crying right there, on the main stage. They’re pushed into the workroom and told to pack their shit and they’re shooting last bits of the behind the scene materials and everything feels so goddamn surreal.

Pearl refuses to get out of drag and Ginger is staring at him like he’s some kind of a weirdo, which is fair, because he is, and Violet is laughing so hard he’s actually crying and the producer tells Pearl that he’s a little bitch and they can’t use anything but the voice from his last behind the scenes bits but they won’t use even that because Pearl sounds like a braindead manatee, which is a little bit unfair but still funny.

“You’re a fucking cunt for making me do that and I fucking hate you,” Pearl says when they’re finally back in Violet’s hotel room that Violet has mentally been referring to as theirs lately.

“Let me make it up to you,” Violet whispers persuasively and Pearl looks a lot less annoyed already.

Violet lets Pearl pull his hair and fuck his mouth and it’s kinda odd because he never thought he’d be into sex in drag yet seeing Pearl moan with his face painted and wig on gives him mental images he well plans on keeping.

That night is the first time Pearl screams his name when he comes and that makes Violet feel warm and fizzy like he hasn’t allowed himself feel in years.

Next morning is spent exchanging salty (Violet’s crying because he’s tired and stressed, that’s all) kisses and quiet promises of I’ll see you very very soon and then they’re all pushed into their respective cars and Violet’s finally homebound.

*

Home is… different. Violet’s not sure if it’s a good different or a bad different, but it’s definitely that. It’s weird, too. A little bit too quiet, a little bit too normal. Violet isn’t used to quiet and normal yet. It’s like time back here had frozen while he was away and now he doesn’t belong here anymore, like he exists somewhere on the outside and he doesn’t remember which way to turn to get back inside.

Quite frankly, he feels empty.

He calls his sister, and then his mom and they don’t get his feeling empty, don’t understand that. They’re happy he’s home and they want to chat about trivial things and he can’t connect with that part of himself, doesn’t know how to, isn’t even sure he wants to.

He throws up after he’s done talking to them and lays on his bathroom floor for hours, cheek pressed against the cold tiles, staring into nothingness.

Pearl texts him that he’s gotten back to New York safe and sound and that’s the last Violet hears of him in weeks.

He curls onto his sofa and calls Fame. He’s up on the farm with his chickens. Violet asks how they’re doing. The chickens are fine, which is probably more than Violet can say about himself.

“Does it ever go away?” Violet asks then. “The emptiness. Does it go away?”

“I should hope it does, eventually,” Fame says, a sad tint to his voice. “I’ll let you know when that happens.”

They’re quiet for a moment and Violet can hear the chickens in the background.

“Have you heard from Pearl?” Violet asks.

“Oh, yeah,. He’s good. Loving life back in New York. Apparently everyone wants to sleep with him and he’s got a music project cooking or something.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Fame asks.

“Nothing,” Violet says quickly.

“Wait a moment,” Fame interrupts, “Why am I telling you this? Shouldn’t you be asking Pearl?”

“We had sex,” Violet says.

“Come through,” Fame screams and apparently that phrase is gonna be people’s classic reaction to Violet now. “When?”

“Do you wanna know about the first time, the last time , or all the times inbetween?”

“Well right now I’m curious about the exact timing of the very first time,” Fame says seriously.

“That’s such a fucking weird question, but if you must know, it was right after the leather and lace runway. That same night, to be precise,” Violet shrugs to himself.

“Son of a bitch!” Fame screams. ”So Trix was right after all.”

“What the fuck even?” Violet is very unimpressed.

“You see,” Fame elaborates, “I was sure it happened around week two, but Trixie thought it happened later on during the filming. Max, on the other hand, was convinced that you two were civilised enough to wait until after the filming and, as he put it, wouldn’t’ve dared shag right under RuPaul’s nose. So now we each owe Trixie fifty bucks.”

“You had a fucking bet going on?” Violet asks in pure disbelief.

“Trust, the sexual tension was more real than Kennedy’s struggle,” Fame concludes.

Violet groans into his sofa cushion.

They’re silent for a long while again and Violet listens to the chickens and Fame’s breathing and the lazy spinning of his ceiling fan.

“Are you okay?” Fame asks eventually.

“I just-“ Violet’s voice shakes, so he has to take a deep breath and start again, “I just wasn’t looking for anything.”

Fame hums in understanding.

“I wasn’t looking for anyone and then along comes this magnificent boy and I just… For once, I just thought I’d let myself feel something, and he made me feel so much and I just. I just don’t wanna feel anymore.”

“I don’t really think you can turn it off whenever you decide to,” Fame sighs.

“I think I fell for him,” Violet whispers quietly, not even sure Fame can hear him.

“Oh,” Fame sighs again with a heartbreak in his voice, “My poor baby.”

They fall into silence again, one that Fame breaks soon enough.

“You know, I saw this post on Tumblr that said that you should be with someone who loves you as much as I love chickens.”

It’s so fucking absurd and surprising that Violet bursts into laughter.

“And I just thought that if Pearl can’t see that you’re the most remarkable chicken there has ever been, then he’s in the wrong and you shouldn’t forget that you’re fucking Violet Chachki and you’re a brand, too.”

“Bitch, that was literally the weirdest fucking piece of advice anyone has ever given me,” Violet rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile in his voice.

*

The nasty shit happens a couple months before the finals.

Now, Violet isn’t ashamed of his past, or his body, or his sexuality, and he doesn’t regret anything, and it’s not like the possibility of this happening didn’t cross his mind on multiple occasions. But, giving that, he’s not necessarily excited about several websites posting his solo online at this very point of time. It all causes a havoc Violet isn’t usually opposed to causing, but right now there’s more in the game than there has ever been before. If he’s being completely honest, he’s afraid this is going to affect the outcome of the crowning in a way that he’d rather it didn’t.

and it’s not like he cares what anyone else thinks, but people - not all of them, but still - are being mean and shitty and it just isn’t particularly uplifting right now.

He stops going out and eating, which isn’t really the healthy way to cope with this, and he lets his phone die and rarely charges it. He spends his days either laying in bed, with his curtains closed, or on the sofa, staring at the wall.

He’s a week or so into his self proclaimed banishment from life and he’s sat on his sofa when there’s a knock on his door. Violet doesn’t make any effort to get up and get the door. There’s another knock. If you ignore it long enough, Violet tells himself, it’ll go away.

But the knocking doesn’t stop. On the contrary, it gets louder and more demanding, up to the point where Violet can’t ignore it anymore. He gets up with a sigh and opens the door to find Pearl standing behind it.

Pearl looks so out of place standing in Violet’s hallway, like he’s a perfect stranger who doesn’t belong into this part of Violet’s life, couldn’t possibly fit into it, like he’s too exotic to exist here, where everything is normal and quiet and boring. Yet there’s something so familiar and safe about him it physically hurts Violet, like Pearl is a harbour and Violet’s been lost at the sea for the past 22 years of his life.

They just stare at each other, take each other in and Violet is really hurting.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” Pearl says at last.

“You live in New York, Pearl,” Violet says.

“You’d think that in time it took me to get here, I would have come up with a better ice breaker,” Pearl says sheepishly and offers Violet a little smile.

Violet doesn’t smile back, just steps aside and lets Pearl into his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” Violet asks and wraps his arms around himself, partially in attempt to shield himself from Pearl’s gaze and partially to restrict himself from wrapping all his limbs around Pearl and never letting go.

“Max called me. I think he used something along the lines of You’re a bloody fucktard and Get your head out of your arse and Go on then, mate, he needs you.”

Violet chuckles but it comes out kinda broken and exhausted.

“Have you not been eating?” Pearl asks, checking Violet carefully from head to toe.

“Haven’t been able to get anything down my throat, really,” Violet shrugs and yeah, he’s fully aware of how small he looks cuddled into is oversized sweater.

“Well that must be the first time you have problems swallowing,” Pearl smirks and Violet just shakes his head and touches his eyebrow like he always does when he tries to hide a smile.

Then they’re quiet and Pearl looks around and Violet looks at Pearl, can’t get enough of the sight in front of him, can’t believe that after being so far apart, literally and figuratively, Pearl’s so close he could touch him, can’t really find the right words to say but can’t really keep quiet, either. Can’t really focus on anything else except for the fact that he really did need Pearl, still does, can’t imagine a day he wouldn’t.

“Did you hear what they’re saying?” Violet says eventually.

“Nah, girl, I slept through the whole thing,” Pearl jokes and it’s clear that he knows exactly what Violet’s talking about.

“Did you watch it?” Violet asks.

“Well,” Pearl says, “The thing is I didn’t because I was kinda hoping for a private show.”

“You are such a cunt,” Violet laughs and this time it’s real and it makes Pearl smile and it just feels very very nice.

“I think you’re making it into a bigger deal than it really is, Violet,” Pearl says then. “Like, people aren’t being shady about it. They’re intrigued and scandalised, but they aren’t turned off. They do still like you.” He pauses for a little while and adds with a smirk, “As much as it is possible to like you after your shady ass behaviour they see on TV every week.”

They stare at each other some more.

“Listen, I’ve been such an idiot,” Pearl says at the exact same time as Violet says, “I really missed you.”

Pearl groans at that and takes those few steps that are separating them, closes the distance between them and throws himself at Violet. Violet lets out a whine and embraces Pearl, buries his face in Pearl’s shoulder and breathes in Pearl’s scent, clings to it like his life depends on it, like it’s the only thing that matters at all.

“I just…” Pearl whispers, “For so many years of my life, I was just fucked up and over and taken advantage of by people around me and this is such a shitty ass excuse, but when that happens to a person, when that keeps happening for long enough… Sometimes when that happens and a person isn’t strong enough to take it, to fight it, they start to believe that what’s happening to them is a norm. And I, at some point I just started to believe that that is all I’m worthy of, that’s all I’ll ever be worthy of and that’s all i’ll ever get. I started to believe that that’s all there is for me.”

“I would never,” Violet mumbles into Pearl’s shoulder.

“I know that, in my head. When I rationalise it to myself, I know that not everyone’s out to screw me over. But when it comes to a real deal, I freak out,” Pearl says. “And we started getting close, and you were just there, so at ease and so natural, so easy to be around and I freaked the fuck out waiting for you to get bored with me or whatever and walk away from me so I thought it would be easier if I did it first.”

Violet whimpers.

“And I’m so fucking sorry I thought so little of you, but I just couldn’t trust myself. Can’t trust myself to ever be enough,” Pearl adds.

violet lifts his head off Pearl’s shoulder and looks at him. Pearl’s face looks sad and so beautiful and a little bit what Violet would imagine a heartbreak to look like.

“I don’t know if I can make it better,” he brings his hand to Pearl’s cheek and strokes gently.

“I’m not asking you to,” Pearl says smiling sadly.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try for the rest of however long you’ll keep me,” Violet promises in a hushed tone.

Pearl hums in agreement and presses Violet close again, slides his one hand up and down Violet’s lower back and presses his fingers into Violet’s shoulder. It feels almost like Pearl’s trying to hold them together, hold himself together, uses Violet as an anchor, and it’s sweet and desperate at the same time.

“I just really like you,” Violet says, plain and simple, honest and raw, without his usual confidence and cockiness.

“I really like you, too,” Pearl whispers and kisses Violet.

And it’s the same familiar lips and tongue, but there’s something very different about the way Pearl’s kissing him. It’s slow and soft and tender, almost like Pearl’s asking for a permission instead of taking Violet the way he has taken him always before.

And Violet gives him all the permission he needs, slightly opens his mouth and lets Pearl’s tongue in, kisses him back and grips onto Pearl with the same level of desperation with which Pearl’s clinging to him.

Pearl starts backing him up, gently and never breaking the contact, and they walk like that, Violet backwards and Pearl securing his every step, all the way to Violet’s bedroom. Violet’s arms are wrapped around Pearl’s neck and Pearl’s holding Violet’s hips, pressing the lower halves of their bodies together and their kisses are still soft and deep and good.

Then Pearl suddenly flips Violet around, presses his lips behind Violet’s ear and Violet tilts his head to give Pearl better access. Pearl’s hands are now playing with the hem of Violet’s sweater, and he starts lifting it up, his fingers hot on Violet’s naked skin, like they’re burning a permanent trail.

Pearl’s lips are gone for the exact amount of time it takes him to take Violet’s shirt off, and then they’re back on Violet’s skin, kissing the nape of his neck, down his spine, and the blade of his shoulders. His. Hands are working Violet’s pants now, pushing them down along with the boxer briefs Violet’s wearing. He helps Violet step out of the pants and flips him around again, so that they’re facing each other, and then he takes a step back and just stares at Violet.

Now Violet has been naked a lot in his life. In different situations, in front of people, and cameras, and on runways and stages. He’s been naked in front of a guy he’s just met in a bar, in front of people who knew him and what to do to make him moan, in front of people who cared for him and in front of those who treated him like a piece of meat, there only to please their every desire. But this, this is so completely different. This is fucking lightyears away from all those other times. It is almost spiritual, how vulnerable and exposed he feels right now.

“Fuck, you look spectacular,” Pearl gasps and takes Violet’s hand, leads him toward the bed an lays him on it, climbs on top of him and kisses Violet again, hand cupping Violet’s cheek gently. Violet spreads his legs and Pearl fits perfectly between them, like life is a puzzle and they’re pieces that belong together.

“You’ve got too much on,” Violet whines and tugs Pearl’s shirt, helps him get undressed, and then it’s just skin on skin. The rest of Pearl’s body is as hot as his hands and Violet can’t get enough of sliding his palm up and down Pearl’s chest and back.

Pearl just keeps kissing him and it’s passionate and heated, but still not hurried nor rushed, like they have all the time in the world. And maybe they do, Violet thinks, maybe they can stay here, in this bed, in this moment forever and just blissfully bask in each other’s presence.

Pearl’s lips leave Violet’s and venture down his body, kiss that spot under Violet’s ear that drivesViolet crazy, press a couple of gentle kisses on Violet’s neck, leave a trail on Violet’s collarbone. He spends a good while kissing, licking, and biting the muscles on Violet’s chest, sucks on his nipples, and slides his tongue down Violet’s stomach, uses the same amount of lips and teeth on Violet’s thighs but ignores Violet’s dick, doesn’t give it the attention it so desperately needs, and then takes the same route back up, finishing at Violet’s lips.

“Do you think…” Pearl starts looking Violet in the eye. “I thought that maybe… Do you want to?”

And yeah, they’ve never done it before, they’ve never gone all the way, and maybe this moment, right there and then, maybe it’s somehow the perfect time for that, so Violet nods vigorously, tries to show Pearl how much he wants this, how much he wants him. Pearl bites his lip and still looks hesitant, so Violet reaches out and blindly rummages through his nightstand drawer.

He hands Pearl the lube and looks at him reassuringly. “Please?”

That’s all the encouragement Pearl needs. He pushes Violet back down onto bed, kisses him and Violet hears the tube being opened somewhere near.

Pearl is still slow and soft with his movements, taking time to warm the lube between his hands before he goes anywhere near Violet’s ass and the sight is so hot and arousing that Violet has to close his eyes for a second. Pearl finally starts to push his finger inside of Violet and he’s careful and gentle, and it’s a fucking torment, because it feels so amazing and Violet just wants it harder and faster.

When Pearl adds another finger, it occurs to Violet. He suddenly knows what’s so different about this time, what’s so different about Pearl, about his pace and touches. It’s so simple actually that it makes Violet want to laugh. Because all the times before this one, they were having sex, they were fucking, and right now they’re making love instead.

Violet waits for this epiphany to scare him, make him jump up and ask Pearl to leave, but it never does. Instead he realises that this might be something that he always wanted but never allowed himself to have.

In a meantime Pearl adds more lube and then another finger and Violet whimpers, tries to push himself down, get more, feel more. Pearl still manages to be patient, tender when he pushes his fingers deeper inside Violet, scissors him open little by little. And then his fingers brush over that certain spot and Violet’s vision blurs out for a moment.

“Please,” Violet cries out.

Pearl hits that spot again, and again and brings his other hand to Violet’s dick, gives him the friction he so desperately desires and strokes firmly and Violet has to stop him before it’s too late.

“Don’t,” he whines, “I wanna come with you.”

“Tell me how you want it,” Pearl whispers into his ear, fingers still scissoring Violet open.

“I want… I need you inside of me. I need it, Pearl, please. I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Pearl groans at that and slides his fingers out of Violet and the loss of contact is so sudden, so disappointing that Violet whines again.Pearl still doesn’t rush his movements, but the way his hand shake when he slicks himself with lube tells Violet that he’s growing inpatient , too.

Violet swears he has never been this well prepped, but Pearl is still infuriatingly careful when he slides into Violet. He keeps his thrusts shallow and it’s amazing but it’s still not enough and Violet wants more, wants all of it and then some.

“Pearl, please,” he hisses, “I need it harder. I can take it harder.”

And apparently even Pearl’s god given self-control has its limits, because he snaps his hips, thrusts harder, deeper, until he’s all the way inside of Violet and Violet thinks he might cry and then Pearl pulls all the way out and thrusts all the way in again and Violet actually lets out a sob.

Pearl starts moving and there’s nothing careful about his thrusts now and Violet takes it, loves it so much he feels overwhelmed by it, thinks that right now, with the length of Pearl inside of him and the weight of Pearl on top of him, he’s more complete than he’s ever been in his life so far.

Some nonsense escapes Violet’s lips, but Pearl is right there to catch it, kiss Violet quiet and muffle all the gasps and moans that Violet’s producing.

“Yes, yes, more, please, so good,” Violet lets out as soon as Pearl’s lips leave his, “Harder, just, please, harder.”

And Pearl obeys, pushes inside Violet harder and faster, fucks him into the mattress and it’s not long until his thrusts become erratic, out of any rhythm, almost feral. He grabs Violet’s dick, leaking heavily between them and it only takes few strokes until Violet’s coming, screaming, and Pearl snaps his hips once again and then he’s coming, too.

It takes them both a moment to recover enough to move and Pearl pulls carefully out of Violet and collapses next to him. Violet is so out of it that he temporarily loses his ability to produce any kind of sound, let alone something that would make sense, and Pearl’s still gasping for air. They just lay there, trying to catch their breath.

“You’re not gonna disappear if I fall asleep now, are you?” Violet says finally. It was meant to be a joke, but he’s not entirely sure he’s able to hide the insecure note of his tone.

“Home isn’t exactly three doors down anymore,” Pearl says and pats Violet’s face like Violet had patted his all those months ago.

“That’s what scares me,” Violet says and turns on his side. Pearl turns, too, so that they’re facing each other.

“Listen, you’re kinda stuck with me now,” he says.

“Promise?”

“Until we’re as tired and grey as Max’s wigs and you’re sick of my stupid shit,” Pearl promises with a straight face.

“I like the sound of that,” Violet smiles.

Pearl just flips him around and spoons him.

“I brought the robe with me,” he says nonchalantly.

“I thought it wasn’t a robe.”

“Shush,” Pearl whispers into Violet’s ear, “If you’ll be good, I’ll wear it and let you bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me.”

Violet moans at the mere mental image of that.

*

Violet wakes up with a groan and turns from side to side to face an empty side of the bed. He groans again and reaches out his hand, patting the sheets, but they still remain empty.

There’s sounds at the hotel room door, like someone’s trying to open it with their hands a bit too full and then the door beeps like it always does when the key card is presented to it, and Violet is greeted with a smell of fresh coffee.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Pearl singsongs and comes in, balancing two coffee cups, a paper bag, and the key card in is hands. “I went to get us some coffee. I think that barista is seriously flirting with me. There’s a heart on my cup and nothing on yours.”

“Did it ever occur to you that that’s because you order yours for Matt and mine for Violet?“ Violet chuckles, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

Pearl laughs, puts coffees and a paper bag on the nightstand next to the bed and pecks a kiss on Violet’s lips.

“If only she knew my girlfriend Violet has a penis,” he says happily and sits on the bed. “Are you excited for tonight, pumpkin?”

“Nervous,” Violet says and sips his coffee. It’s just the way he loves it, just the way it has been every morning for the last couple of months.

Pearl threads his fingers through Violet’s hair and hums. “It’s gonna be perfect.”

“What if neither of us is crowned tonight?” Violet asks.

“I won’t mind, really,” Pearl shrugs and retrieves his coffee.

“You won’t?” Violet raises his eyebrow. “How come?”

“I kinda already got what I wanted,” Pearl shrugs again.

“Did they call you? A tour?” Violet sits up, excited and eager.

“Nah, no, nothing like that,” Pearl smiles at him.

“What is it, then? I know they probably told you not to say anything, but come on now, I won’t tell.”

“I mean,” Pearl says, “It’s kind of rare so I won’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of it. Or it’s not even rare, to be honest. It’s actually a one of a kind collectible, Violet Chachki.”

Violet bursts out laughing and kicks Pearl out of the bed.

“Oh, my god,” he shouts. “You’re such a cheesy fuck.”

“Uh-huh,” Pearl says and grabs two of his wigs. “I still haven’t decided which one to wear tonight.”

And then he’s off to model wigs in front of the mirror, and Violet watches him leave the room with a large goofy smile on his lips.

“Do you think Alaska will be there? I’m dying to meet him,” Pearl shouts from the bathroom.

“I’m sure you’ll love him,” Violet shouts back. “I’m sure he’ll love you, too.”

”Sickening,” Pearl giggles.

And maybe Violet throws himself back onto bed and muffles his squeak and idiotic smile with a pillow that smells of Pearl, but no one’s there to witness it.

[tamiddyinyourcity]

6:26pm, Sunday, July 7th of 2019. Sitting at a library and doodling away, since I really don't feel like dealing with whatever awaits at home.

Including dumping out the week-old tuna casserole that remained untouched, since theres a fuckton of little glass pieces in it. When you think you've got a grip on life, instead you shatter a glass tray of perfectly healthy tuna casserole to the floor, and starve for the week. :(

Instead, I opted for bowls full of chocolate Rice Krispies, no milk, and just ate it like a dog, instead of a normal 18-year-old person would do, and just order a pizza or some shit.

But I'm broke yall! Not great.

I need money for sooo much. Money to fix my laptop, in order to actually get started with a career in voice acting, journaling, video creation, and whatever else i want.

I need money to eat.... such a lame habit, but the body needs what the body needs, man. And well, sadly Dominos and six bowls of unmilked Chocolate Krispies won't make the cut. Its probably why I'm ten pounds lighter than I expected. Too much forgetting to eat, not enough forcing myself to scour for a bowl full of Chef Boyardee, or a plate of beans.

I genuinely love cooking, but cooking at my house with limited options inside of the pantry, andd with grease covered stoves AND THE BOTTOMS OF EVERY PAN that cause smoking the second I turn in a stove? Turns me off from cooking entirely.

(Shoutout to my grandmother, who will cook with a fuckton of oil and then not let anyone else there know she's made a mess on top of the object that could cause sincere fires...)

Plus her having constant diarrhea but refusing to wash her hands, legitimately having sticky fingers that leave a snail trail on every single fucking wall or anything she touches, and then having the nerve to even STEAL FOOD FROM ME OR FROM OTHER PEOPLE....

Yeah. Why make food if I'm just gonna have to deal with insane amounts of washing pans and bowls with salmonella covered sponges (from that nasty hoe) and stovetops needing to be wiped down multiple times in a row, as well as the bottom to every pan, since hey, no one cleans shit around here correctly or cares for the safety aspect of not spilling grease everywhere????

And then, the chance she will open a container of your food and scoop it out with her bare hands to be a sneaky ass bitch.

Shoutout to that time she used her long, yellow, nasty talons to scoop MY tuna salad, onto her.... baloney sandwich. You see why i hate her? It was fucking unnecessary. Went out of her way to be disgusting, and then doubled that, and factoring in her blatant theft of it, IN FRONT OF ME, and sassing me over it when it was my food... yeah, shes a c--....

Imma just... spare the energy of swearing here. I am better that that. Shes the hot mess here.

So, no food, no job, no outlet for creativity? Fuck.

What I do have? A boyfriend, surprisingly. Gotta count quarters to see him, but it all works out usually. I get a night of sleep in a bed that holds someone I actually care about, who comforts me every time we lay together, versus a top bunk where a rancid old lady will get caught wiping shit from her asscheeks there, right under me, as i try to sleep at night.

And food that's actually healthy, like tea and oatmeal. Not pizza rolls, or cheese and bread that's been touched on by someone who has dark brown, sticky stains on their hands....

And actually having someone care about me more than they would over themself.

.......

I hate relying on others.

I like that i feel comfortable with my current significant other, but still. I will feel like a burden or like its mooching if i stay over too often...

I dunno.

Life continues. Here i am, in a library, doodling with my markers despite feeling super lightheaded! Fifty cents in my bank account, since spending time with my boyfriend was a much better option than eating, for the sole purpose of being alive, but at home with people that made my will to live dramatically worsen....

Nice.

I'll just go home soon and make some Chef Boyardee if we have some. I hate how that shit sticks to the bowl, but its better to still eat something.... Hell, the whole reason I made that tuna casserole last time was since my boyfriend inspired me, and... it was just so sweet.

So I put in the effort, made the casserole, and it shattered into tiny pieces right in my freaking hands.

....

Lameness.

If I don't have a will to really eat or a desire to do much for myself; then I guess I'll appreciate how much he cares for me, and wants to keep seeing me, by ingesting food and making sure i dont one day spontaneously faint and never wake up...

It's really sad.

Alright, I'm good here so far. Patrick, I still care for you, and thanks for being in my life as of now. Helped me find this library, let me sleep with you and spend good moments with you, and for that, i am always super grateful.

Plus you're sexy as hell too.

Alright. 6:52pm, thinking about a certain individual I maaay have been spending a lot of time with, but finding my sense of self. Songs i would write, stories i could tell, things i would like to do...

I was telling him about how I kinda hated not really learning how to code in high school, and he said, "Tamia, you are eighteen uears old. You can learn to do ANYTHING you want; especially now that you've got all the free time in the world."

....

He's got a point.... and a nice smile, but thats not the point here.

I just gotta... start small and build from there. Finish that video on my phone, upload the videos to a memory card or some shit. Interview that one person I've been putting off.

Things like that.

Small turns into big. Like, how picking up small bits of glass, bit by bit, slowly cleans up the whole disaster of glass on your floor from your tuna casserole slamming using the power of gravity to crash land all its mess into your life.

I like Patrick. He's like, the cool guy I didn't expect to meet, kinda nudging me into some good directions.

....

But so was Zack, and like.... Zack eventually became the mess that crashed into my life.

So.

Nah.

Let's stop comparing shit. Patrick is an entirely new person, that will hold me if I'm upset, shows actual affection, and communicates like an adult.

Please stop comparing exes. There's the whiney skater asshole who didn't have enough balls to speak on his problems, nor work on them.

And he's not in your life.

So now... focus on yourself. Cleaning up, eating nicely, things like that.

That way, it doesn't matter if someone leaves, since you are still the Glass Master who's picking up the pieces of your life, little piece by piece.

And thats wassup.

So cool; gotta hope I get a job from the library soon, fold up some laundry, and otherwise I should do well so far. Thats great. Lifes nice... thanks guys, peace out.

7:03pm, just chilling, hesitant to go home knowing this place closes at 11pm... but its still a great place. I just need nutrients and can swing by this place some other day soon....

Talk to yall some more. Peace out, fams. :)