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gaymer-hag-stan · 3 years

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Lara Croft's Biography

This is my attempt at consolidating Core Design's two biographies for Lara Croft as well as Crystal Dynamics' revised version for Legend into one, cohesive background story that includes all key events from her past adventures. Certain elements of the first nine games and their backstories are bound to be included in the new, unified timeline so any Reboot fans that are not as familiar with Classic Lara may find this interesting to read :) Hope you like it!

Name: Lara Croft

Nationality: British

Date of Birth: 14 February 1968

Birthplace: Wimbledon, London

Marital Status: Single

Blood Group: AB-

Height: 1,75m

Weight: 58 kg

Hair Colour: Brunnette

Eye Colour: Brown

Distinguishing Features: 9mm Handguns

Bio

Lady Lara Croft is an 11th generation Countess. The Croft family was granted the title and rights to Abbingdon, Surrey by King Edward VI in 1547. The Croft Estates are comprised of three separate manor houses, two of which are maintained by the National Trust, and the third is home to Lady Croft.

Lady Croft herself has suffered several personal tragedies, including the deaths of both parents on separate occasions before she came of age. Reputably an accredited genius and Olympic-standard gymnast, Lady Croft is the focus of wild speculation and intense debate in both the scientific and political communities in addition to the popular press. Idealized and vilified in equal measure, she is perhaps one of the most fascinating and enigmatic figures of our time.

Lara Croft was born in Surrey's Parkside hospital on the 14th of February in 1968 to Lady Amelia Croft and the notorious archeologist Lord Richard Croft, the late Earl of Abbingdon. She was raised to be an aristocrat from birth, and had lived in luxury and security aloof from the world at large. Between the ages of three and six, she attended the Abbingdon Girls School, where it quickly became clear that she was an exceptionally gifted child.

At the age of nine she survived a plane crash in the Himalayas that took the life of her mother. In perhaps the first story of her prodigious indomitability, she somehow survived a solo ten-day trek across the Himalayan mountains, one of the most hostile environments on the planet. The story goes that when she arrived in Katmandu she went to the nearest bar and made a polite telephone call to her father asking if it would be convenient for him to come and pick her up.

For six years following the plane crash, Lara rarely left her father's side, traveling around the world from one archeological dig site to another. During this period she was ostensibly given a standard education from private tutors, but it would probably be more accurate to say she was her father's full time apprentice.

When Lara was fifteen, her father went missing in Cambodia. Extensive searches by the authorities and Lara herself turned up human remains that could not definitively be identified. Since Lord Croft's body was not officially recovered, Lara could not directly inherit the Croft title and Lara was thrust into a bitter family feud over control of the Abbingdon estates with her uncle Lord Errol Croft. Lara eventually won the legal battle, and took possession of her inheritance but at the cost of a deep rift in the Croft family that left her estranged from her living relatives.

At 16 she began studying at Gordonstoun, one of Britain's most prominent boarding schools where she discovered the mountains of Scotland. One day Lara came across a copy of National Geographic on the hall table. The front cover featured a familiar name - Professor Werner Von Croy. A respected archaeologist, Von Croy had once lectured at Lara's school to pupils & parents alike.

The experience had a profound effect on Lara, triggering a desire for travel to remote locations in search of adventure. In some ways Von Croy had become an inspirational figure for Lara. As Lara read further, she learned that Von Croy was currently preparing for an archaeological tour across Asia, culminating in a potential new discovery to be made in Cambodia. Unable to pass up this opportunity, she walked over to the desk & penned a letter to Von Croy. She Introduced herself and offered financial assistance in exchange for her place on the expedition. Von Croy's reply assured her that the territories were friendly and that he had ample experience to look after both his & Lara's well being.

Lara's company as an assistant would be welcome, as was the offer of such a generous cheque. He remembered Lara from his lecture - her incessant yet insightful questions had made quite an impression upon him. And so it was agreed that Lara would accompany Von Croy for the duration of the tour.

At 21, while in college, she was part of a team of aspiring archaeologists in charge of a dig in Paraiso, Peru. Her closest friends, Amanda Evert, aspiring anthropologist, and Anaya Imanu, engineer, among them. They were attempting to break through the tomb of the Queen of Tiwanaku. The expedition was cut short however, as a tragic accident led to the deaths of most of Lara's friends and colleagues, including Amanda, with Lara and Anaya emerging from the dig as the only two known survivors.

Lara probably should have died there, as most did, instead she learned how to depend on her wits to stay alive in hostile conditions a world away from her sheltered upbringing. Her experiences had had a profound effect on her and in that process transformed herself as well. Her Peruvian odyssey was both miraculous and enlightening, as the young woman not only survived, but gained a perspective on herself and the world that made her past appear shallow and naive. Out of the darkness of her ordeal, she saw her future reflected in a different light.

She felt profoundly that there was more for her in this life than the coddled existence that had become her numbing habit. Unable to stand the suffocating atmosphere of upper-class British society any longer, she realized that she was only truly alive when she was travelling alone. Over the eight following years she acquired an intimate knowledge of ancient civilizations across the globe. Despite this drastic life change, Lara still retains the essence of her upbringing - most notably with her polite, upper-class accent. She turned to writing to fund her trips.

While in England, Lara lives in a mansion in Surrey which she inherited many years ago. At one time she saw little use in it but now realises that, if nothing else, it is at least handy for storing all the artifacts she has acquired on her travels. She has also had a custom-built assault course constructed in the grounds for training purposes.

Lady Lara Croft has already eclipsed her father's career; as of this writing she is credited with the discovery of some fifteen archeological sites of international significance. These sites are still yielding new and exciting insights to the past on an ongoing basis. No one can deny Lady Croft's incredible contribution to the field of archeology, however she is not without her detractors.

Lara's methods have been frequently called into question by government officials and other practicing archeologists. She has been described variously as anything from cavalier to downright irresponsible. Some scholars have suggested that her notorious lack of documentation and brute force methodology have contaminated countless sites and done more harm than good. There have even been (unsubstantiated) allegations that Lara actually takes items from these sites before informing the international community of their locations, and that she is nothing more than a glorified treasure hunter.

Despite the tabloid press's infatuation with her, Lara Croft guards her privacy with complete determination. She has never granted an interview nor made any personal comment to any of the rumors associated with her, preferring to express herself through brief formal statements given by the family solicitors, Hardgraves and Moore.

Predictably there have been a number of unofficial biographies printed about the young Countess, that attribute wild and fantastic feats to her exploits, ranging from the discovery of living dinosaurs in the Congo to infiltrating the infamous Area 51 in Nevada. The official line from the Croft Estate to these works is simply that "...these books are utter rot: disgraceful, trashy works of total fiction."

Nevertheless if you even make a cursory search on the Internet for the Unexplained, the Mysterious and the Downright Unbelievable, time and again you will find Lara Croft's name appearing. She appears to be a hero to conspiracy theorists and alternate history aficionados alike.

It seems the further you dig into Lady Croft's life, the more bewildering and mysterious she becomes. Perhaps like the archeological sites she discovers, we have only scratched the surface of this incredible woman and the complex and inscrutable secrets buried deep within her.

Lara Croft became the seeker of truths, both large and small, and in that pursuit she continues to this day.

Employment

Lara doesn't consider tomb raiding as a job, merely a way of life - although she has been known to uncover archeological artifacts on commission. To fund her radical lifestyle, Lara writes travel books. Titles so far have included 'A Tyrannosaurus is Jawing at My Head' and 'Slaying Bigfoot'. Her common complaint though is that she doesn't have enough time to put pen to paper.

As well as uncovering many notorious archeological sites - including the Atlantean pyramid and the last resting place of the dagger of Xian, Lara has found fame in other areas - she has driven the dangerous Alaskan Highway from Tierra del Fuego in South America in record time (although this was later denounced by the Guinness Book of Records due to her "reckless driving") and she hit the headlines again when she hunted out and killed Bigfoot in North America.

Sports

Not much of a team player. Discovered rock climbing while at Gordonstoun and used to set off into the hills alone during netball practice. Also took up shooting as an extra-curricular activity but was instantly banned for showing "too keen an interest'. However, the strength that climbing gave her fingers was to become useful when she started pulling triggers for real.

Music

Lara was brought up to appreciate classical music but having been a guest on U2's Popmart tour, has since become a fan of their music. She has also been introduced to the sounds of Nine inch Nails by her Aunty and considers it "good easy listening". Finds trance music, in general, good for training.

Food

Despite being a proficient cook from her days at finishing school and having sampled most of the exotic delicacies of the world, Lara usually opts for beans on toast when at home.

Hobbies

Any challenging sports. Has a particular interest in experimenting with different, often extreme forms of transport. Has also once admitted to stitching a kind of Bayeaux tapestry of her own adventures while at home.

Ambition

With her unique physical abilities, Lara is certain of being able to break many world athletic records and so sees no challenge in this herself. Her main ambitions still lie in the undefined world of tombs and the past. She has also however, developed a personal regard for Brian Blessed's attempts to climb Everest. If he never succeeds, she is determined to piggy-back him up there.

Heroes

All the great ancient figures who respected themselves enough to design such intricate tombs to be buried in. "Nobody goes to trouble like that anymore..."

Fears

Her Aunty's Corgi which has bitten her on several occasions - about which, for once, there is little she can do.

Lucky Charm

Any gun at hand.

#Tomb Raider #Lara Croft #Lara Croft Tomb Raider #Lara #Video Games #Gaming

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

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The Next Best Thing Chpt 8

Apologies for the lack of plot! This chapter could be subtitled ‘Creative and Unexpected Ways To Traumatise A Child Under The Guise Of Child-Friendly Treats’.

Trigger warning: Referenced mild neglect and emotional abuse of a child.

****

Before Catalina has even stopped the car properly, Jane has unclipped her seatbelt and is pushing her door open- and it’s funny to see Jane doing something that Catalina and Mum and Dad and a multitude of other adults have all solemnly sworn again and again will result in inevitable, painful and horrible death,.

(Jane doesn’t die horribly. Cathy thinks this is a good thing, not least because it would really ruin the playdate. And it’s already been pretty bad, as things go.)

Catalina tells them both to stay in the car- but she doesn’t: she gets out and hovers, like she isn’t sure where to stand or what to do or even if she should be there at all.

The car in front of them is parked crookedly, half of it on the pavement. The doors are sticking out into the street, as if they’ve been flung open and then just left, and there’s a tall man, tapping away on a phone and doing a quick, impatient sort of walk back and forth: three steps towards the car, then a turn, then four steps down the street like he’s just remembered he’s got somewhere else to be, and then another jerky turn and back to the car again, while he huffs and puffs like a teakettle.

It looks a little funny- or it would look funny, if everything wasn’t so off.

He’s dressed like anyone else but there’s something scary about him: he looks so angry that Cathy bets you’d be able to feel the waves of crossness coming off him, like heat from the oven when the door is opened. She hasn’t ever seen him before (and honestly she wouldn’t mind not seeing him again ever, especially when he hits the bumper of his car with the flat of his hand so hard that she’s surprised it doesn’t leave a mark) but she knows who he is- Anne’s Uncle Edmund, and Kitty’s dad.

She knows that because he’s standing outside Jane’s house, because Jane greets him with a curt ‘Edmund’ said through lips so tight it shouldn’t be possible for her to talk (he replies with a Jane that sounds like he’s sneering, even though he’s just saying her name)- and because Kitty is standing right next to him.

Kitty’s not actually the person making the crying noise, it turns out- there’s a family crossing the road with a baby in a pushchair, covered in icecream and screaming bloody murder- and so for a moment, Cathy thinks that maybe she’s ok, but then- the she realises that she….isn’t.

She isn’t ok, but she isn’t curled up on the floor and she isn’t screaming or stamping or doing anything at all really- she’s just standing there stiffly, an unwieldy stuffed animal in her arms that’s nearly as big as she is, that she’s holding away from herself like she doesn’t want it to touch anything.

She’s shooting little glances up at Edmund, like she can feel the anger radiating off him too but rather than burning her, it’s freezing her where she stands.

She looks very small.

Anne unclips her seatbelt, like she’s going to get out of the car too, but Catalina notices and shoots them both a very stern look and Anne subsides back into the back seat. She grips Cathy’s hand as they watch.

When Jane kneels in front of Kitty, asking if she’s alright and if she had a nice time and admiring her huge stuffed-something (it’s a Mickey Mouse, Cathy realises, with wide open eyes and a very pink tongue),

Kitty doesn’t even move. She doesn’t put down the doll, she doesn’t try to give Jane a hug, she doesn’t say anything- but her eyes get very big and Cathy realises she’s crying but without hardly making a sound and it’s just...sadder than anything, even though she’s seen people cry before.

Perhaps it’s sadder because Kitty isn’t screaming, she isn’t wailing or trying to explain or even doing the eyes-screwed-shut-head-back-making-as-much-noise-as-possible crying that the icecream kid is doing further down the street.

Instead, it’s like she’s doing everything she can to make herself as small and as quiet and as little trouble as possible, like they might not even notice she’s upset if she’s really careful- and that, Cathy realises, that’s the saddest thing.

Jane is somehow managing to do gentle soft talking to Kitty as she tries to get her to put down the Mickey Mouse so she can wipe her face with a tissue (while Kitty flinches, like loosening her hold on it will lead to it getting snatched away, which Cathy thinks is probably unlikely since it’s a bit creepy looking and not something you’d want to steal)- while also doing lots of cross snapping at Edmund over her shoulder.

‘It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright- Why doesn’t she have a coat on Edmund? For god’s sake, I tried to tell you-’

‘Look give me a break, I did my best-’ He rolls his eyes. ‘It was hard enough getting her the dress, I thought you said she was doing better in shops now-’

‘She is doing better but you have to be patient, you know she doesn’t like crowds. Of course, if you’d just let me pack for her like I wanted to- I promise nothing will happen to it if you put it down a moment, Kitty-Kat-’

‘Yeah, yeah, we all know no one can possibly look after a child as well as you can, I get the message. I don’t know what you’ve done to turn her against me, but you’ve obviously done a fantastic job- do you have any idea how hard it was to get her to answer a single question? Like pulling bloody teeth!’

‘She doesn’t know you!’ Jane snaps. ‘Of course she’s shy-’

Edmund is still looking at his phone- or at least, he’s holding it in front of his face but it looks more like he’s using it as a reason to not to have to look at Jane at all.

He’s snapping too.

‘I’m her father! She’s got no reason to be shy of me-’

‘That’s not how it works and you know it! If you could only-’

‘Oh god another lecture from the childcare expert who doesn’t even have her own kids.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘God Jocasta probably counts herself lucky she isn’t around to have to listen to the nag-nag-nagging, you must have driven her crazy while she was pregnant-’

Catalina steps forward at this point, like she’s going to say something, and then steps back like she’s thought better of it, and Cathy thinks it’s funny, that she’s never really seen Catalina decide not to give an opinion on something ever.

‘Don’t you dare-’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He shakes his head and gives a bitter laugh. ‘I’ve honestly got to hand it to you though- I didn’t think you could be doing a worse job if you tried. Have you messed her up to get back at me or something?’

‘What are you talking about?’

He leans in. ‘Making her the way she is. Scared of everything, scared of me. Just like you- can’t ever just let things go, can’t ever let anything be fun. Normal kid, you take them out, get them a couple of toys, nice food. This one-’ He shakes his head again. ‘Try to get her to have fun like the other kids and she reacts like you’re forcing her down a mine or up a chimney- shouldn’t she have grown out of tantrums by now? She’s- what, five?’

‘She’s four. And I keep trying to tell you, she isn’t a doll, Edmund. You can’t just….bring her out when you want to look good and make her have fun because you think she should be having fun. Believe it or not, she doesn’t exist for your convenience!’

‘You’ve got that right- remind me never to try to do anything for her again. Can’t even buy her an icecream without there being a hassle, she doesn’t want it, she feels sick, just whine whine whine-’

‘Don’t tell me you couldn’t even remember she gets carsick-’

‘Oh I’ll remember now- I’ll send you an invoice for the car cleaning…’

The fight is horrible to listen to and Cathy feels sick, but eventually, Edmund throws up his hands in an I-Give-Up way, climbs back into the car and slams the door and roars off without saying goodbye to anyone.

The minute he’s gone, Kitty loses her grip on the toy- and Cathy hopes that means she’s going to let Jane take her to the car and they can all go back to doing normal things and maybe even finish one of the games they haven’t got round to- but instead, she wails ‘Daddy-’ and tries to run to where the car used to be- and then she realises she’s dropped the scary looking bear thing and her face crumples up with shock and she starts crying even harder.

She can hear Jane, her voice as soft and gentle as it was harsh and snappy just a minute ago.

‘Sweetheart, it’s ok, he just had to get back-’

Cathy thinks she could tell Jane that Kitty doesn’t look all that interested in doing anything other than chasing after the horrible car with the horrible man- but then after a couple of minutes, Kitty manages to gulp back a sob.

‘Daddy l-left-’ Her face crumples again.

‘He’s very busy, sweetheart. It’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything wrong-’

‘He’s gone-’

There’s the edge of wail in her voice and Cathy thinks that it’s a bit strange that while Edmund was here, Kitty was too scared to even move but now he’s gone, she’s crying like the world has fallen to pieces.

‘Jane, make him come back!’

‘I can’t Kitty-Kat, I’m sorry.’ Jane sounds almost like she might cry too. ‘But he’s very sorry he had to leave and he loves you very much-’

Cathy doesn’t think she heard Edmund say anything like that to Jane- from what she could hear, the last thing he said was ‘swearword swearword Satnav’, accompanied by a bang on the dashboard.

(At least, she thinks they’re swear words. She isn’t sure and she thinks it isn’t the sort of thing Catalina will tell her but she also knows that if she just says them, she can probably judge by reaction.

She knows she probably shouldn’t try that now though.)

Kitty’s looking after the car- although it’s way out of sight now- like she could bring it back just by wanting it- and then she looks down at the toy on the floor and bursts into fresh tears that don’t stop even when Jane picks up back up and dusts off it’s shiney black ears.

‘It’s ok- look-’ Jane tries to show Kitty it’s pristine fur. ‘It’s fine, sweetheart-’

‘Daddy said I had to look after it and now it’s dirty-’

‘It’s not dirty-’

‘But it’s been on the floor!’ Kitty wails, and it’s obvious that the fact that the horrible thing doesn’t have a mark on it makes no difference at all. ‘Daddy will be so cross-’

‘I’m sure he won’t be-’

‘He will be-’ Kitty looks down at herself. ‘He was so cross that I ruined my dress but I didn’t mean to Jane, really really I didn’t-’

For the first time, Cathy notices what Kitty is wearing and it’s funny because the times she’s seen Kitty before this, she’s been wearing various shades of pink with the odd bit of purple here and there- soft t shirts and cardigans as fluffy as candyfloss and cute little dungarees that remind Cathy of the clothes you can buy in Build A Bear.

(They’re like bigger versions of the teddy bear clothes that make Catalina snort when she looks at the prices because according to her, you could buy some real baby clothes and probably an actual real baby for less- except last time she said it a bit too loud and a lady holding an actual baby glared at her.

That’s why her Build-A-Bear dragon has a wizards cloak instead of the outfit she had all picked out in her head. She’d sort of wanted roller skates for her dragon too but Catalina had said she was buying one set of roller skates for Cathy’s birthday and that it was up to Cathy to pick whether they would be human size or dragon-size and in the end, she’d picked human-size so now her dragon has to watch instead of skate. It doesn’t really matter though. Her dragon has wings after all.)

Anyway, Kitty isn’t actually dressed in her usual pink cotton. She’s wearing a dress- even though it’s quite cold- a dress that looks just a bit too big for her, stiff with sequins and bits of netting that make the skirt stick out and little rosebuds. It isn’t pink, it’s silvery blue.

It’s beautiful, the sort of dress that makes her think of special-occasions-only clothes, except this dress is ten times nicer than any special-occasions-only clothes she’s ever had or ever imagined having. It’s like a princess dress, a bridesmaids dress, a dress too nice to be a dressing-up outfit because you can tell just by looking that it’s expensive…. but it also looks like the sort of dress you’d have to be careful in.

She thinks about how Kitty’s current favourite game (according to Anne) is just crawling around on the floor and pretending to be a cat (which means Anne has to do some serious chocolate-button-based bribery now to make Kitty even join in even a single proper game like Vampire Barbie) and how this dress would probably make a game like that difficult and she wonders whether Kitty would consider it a worthwhile trade.

Not that the dress looks like Kitty has been careful in it. From a distance, it’s just a beautful dress but closer up, it's a bit stained and a lot crumpled, like she’s been napping while wearing it, and there’s a dampish purplish patch that looks like ribena on the skirt. Her shoes fit, at least, and her socks too- but her socks look very grubby around her ankles….but then maybe there just wasn’t any money left for new socks after the new dress, perhaps.

Jane looks like she’s just noticing the dress, the socks too.

She makes her voice very calm.

‘It’s not ruined, Kitty-Kat. I can give it a quick wash and it’ll be good as new.’

Kitty shakes her head. ‘Daddy said it was ruined and that I was spoilt and he wasn’t going to buy me nice clothes if I couldn’t look after them.’

Jane’s forehead creases in consternation. ‘I thought he packed some of your own clothes?’

Kitty mumbles something.

‘What was that, sweetheart?’

‘I couldn’t open the zip!’ Kitty sobs ‘It was too stiff and I couldn’t get anything out-’

‘Didn’t Daddy help?’

‘He said I was big enough to learn to do it myself’ Kitty sniffles and Cathy thinks it’s the first times she’s ever heard anyone refer to Kitty as ‘big’.

Jane does a big breath like she’s making herself calm. ‘I’m sorry Kitty-Kat, I should have thought when I was-’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s ok- we’ll run you a nice warm bath and find you some nice clean clothes and we can put your lovely new dress in the wash and keep it for...well, special things. Ok?’

Kitty shrugs like she doesn’t much care what happens to the dress.

‘It’s very pretty- did you pick it out yourself?’

Kitty shakes her head. ‘Mummy chose it.’

Jane shakes her head gently. ‘I…..don’t think she did, Kitty-Kat.’

There’s an awkward silence, and Cathy remembers what Anne told her, that Kitty’s mum died before she was old enough to talk.

Kitty nods emphatically. ‘She did-’ She plays with one of the silk roses sewn to the hem of the dress, the threads loose.

‘She can’t have done, sweetheart.’

‘-Daddy said I have to call Marcia mummy now.’

Jane’s reaction is silent but Cathy can see the way pain ripples through her, the way her eyes squeeze shut for a second and her mouth twitches, like she’s having to fight to keep herself together.

‘O-oh-’

‘He said she’s going to be my new mummy.’

‘And- and what did Marcia say?’ Jane’s trying to smile, as if everything is ok, but it’s the sort of smile that looks like it hurts.

Kitty looks away. ‘Don’t know. She brought me that- Because Daddy didn’t pack Pink Kitty.’

‘I know sweetie, I think he forgot-’

‘He didn’t. He said she was dirty. And old. And that I was too big to need her. I told him that Pink Kitty would be scared of the dark without me but he wouldn’t listen.’ Her lip wobbles dangerously. ‘ I missed her so much-’

Jane tucked a stray lock of hair behind Kitty’s small ear. ‘She missed you too. She’ll be very happy you’re back to keep her safe.’

‘-and so Marcia made him go to the Disney store and she said we were going to get something else and she said I could get anything- but then she said I was taking too long and she chose for me-’

Cathy feels a spark of jealousy- she wonders if Catalina has any plans to take her to the Disney store and say she can get anything….but she knows it’s unlikely.

(Catalina says that the Disney store gives her a migraine whenever they go in: ‘It’s too cheerful, it’s too happy, mija!’ Cathy doesn’t know how anything can be too happy.

She has tried saying that John Lewis gives her a migraine too but Catalina had just nodded ruefully and agreed that it was a horrible, cursed place but that migraine or not, they needed new towels. Buying the towels was boring but cursed is her new favourite word.)

She feels jealous but then she thinks about just how many toys there are at the Disney store, about how long it takes just to look at them all, let alone choose, and about the slightly sick, overwhelmed feeling she had at the bookstore that first time when Catalina bought all her books back.

She thinks about how crowded it always is in there, how loud the music is, and about how Kitty puts her hands over her ears at even quite normal things- like vacuum cleaners and thunder and cars revving their engines.

And she thinks about how long Kitty takes to choose anything, and about Anne telling her that they’re not allowed Pick’n’Mix sweets at the cinema anymore, not because they’re daylight robbery which is what Catalina calls them (because Anne’s parents don’t seem to ever talk about money like that) but because Kitty always takes longer than it’s worth to pick her sweets- and she wonders if the Disney store would be proper treat for Kitty or just another thing to be afraid of.

And then she doesn’t feel quite so jealous anymore.

Not only that, but Kitty doesn’t even seem to like the stuffed animal she got. And no wonder.

Because even she knows Kitty is deeply afraid of Mickey Mouse.

Not that she’s actually seen evidence or anything. But Anne has told her. According to Anne, Kitty is also afraid of clowns (Cathy agrees that they’re horrifying even if Anne doesn’t see it)- the space under her bed (which is why it’s Anne’s go-to hiding spot if they play hide and seek) and whales (jointly the fault of the Sunday School Jane took Kitty and Anne to once, who apparently described the idea of being inside a whale's stomach a little too graphically, and of Pinnochio, ditto.)

Jane sets the toy on the garden wall. ‘Don’t you like him, Ktty-Kat?’

Kitty nods but she starts crying again too.

‘Didn’t you tell them that you don’t like Mickey?’

Kitty nods tearfully.

‘And they made you get him anyway?’

‘We were out of the shop and Daddy said it was too late and Marcia got cross that it was a waste of money-’

Jane sighs, wearily gathers Kitty up into her arms and stands up.

‘It’s ok, sweetheart. We can keep him somewhere nice and safe and out of the way where he won’t get dirty and I’ll tell Daddy what good care you’re taking of him when he calls.’

Kitty doesn’t seem particularly consoled- she just buries her face into Jane’s neck and mumbles something. She’s holding onto Jane so tightly that her fingers have gone white.

‘Of course I haven’t thrown Pink Kitty away, sweetheart- she’s on your bed where you left her, I promise-’

Another mumble.

‘Of course I’d never throw her away. How about we go get you all cleaned up and sorted out and you can see for yourself?’

Catalina finally steps forward, a bit awkwardly.

‘Do you want me to take Anne home?’

Jane turns, like she’s only just remembering Catalina’s there. ‘Oh god- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you wait like that, I was just-’

Catalina holds up her hands. ‘You were focused on Kitty like you should be- please don’t apologise. I just wanted to check-’

Anne pushes past Cathy and scrambled out of the car so she can cling to the hem of Jane’s shirt. ‘No! I want to stay here-’

Jane adjusts Kitty so she can smooth Anne’s dark hair with her free hand. ‘Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t think Kitty is going to be up to much more than bath and bed- you won’t have her to play with and I’ll be a bit busy-’

Anne’s face crumples but she blinks bravely.

‘I’ll go home then....if you want me to.’

Her voice is suddenly a bit shaky.

Jane looks stricken.

‘Oh darling, I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. Of course I want you to stay, I just didn’t want you to be bored-’

Anne pauses for a second, like she’s wondering if Jane is really telling the truth- but she obviously decides that she is, because she sniffs and reattaches herself to Jane’s shirt.

‘I won’t be! I promise!’

‘Alright then-’ Jane smiles warmly down at her. ‘I’m so lucky to get to have both of my girls with me together. And…..thank you-’ she adds to Catalina. ‘Thank you…..so much. I don’t quite know how to thank you for everything, but if you need anything at all-’

Catalina waves her away. ‘It’s nothing. I hope everything is ok-’ She glances at Kitty, buried into Jane’s neck and Anne, clinging to Jane with the same white-knuckle grip.

‘Oh it will be’ Jane shrugs and smiles sadly. ‘It’s...not exactly the first time, if you catch my drift.’

‘The girls are lucky to have you.’

‘And Cathy is lucky to have you.’

They smile at one another, and Jane lets go of Anne enough to give Cathy a little wave goodbye through the car window and makes Anne say thank you to Catalina and then they’re going into one of the little houses and the door closes behind them and they’re gone.

The rest of the evening is normal- spelling homework like normal, teeth and shower and pajamas like normal. Catalina reads her another chapter of Little Women and even goes to find her phone so they can google what ‘pickled limes’ actually are (they both agree they look disgusting and that Amy and her friends clearly have terrible taste).

She goes to sleep like normal- and then wakes up suddenly, from a dream in which she’s Kitty, alone on the pavement outside of Jane’s house, except that Jane isn’t there yet and Catalina isn’t anywhere and there’s just tall men shouting and stamping and she’s hunched up small as small and hoping they don’t notice her-

Her own bed feels safer but it also makes her think about Kitty and wherever she slept when she was with Edmund. It makes her wonder if Kitty had bad dreams and how it would feel if the bad dream she just had wasn’t a dream at all but something she was living through-

When Catalina comes in, ruffled and sleepy-eyed, she doesn’t ask why she’s crying, just gently dries her wet face, scoops her out of her tangle of duvet and carries her down the dark hallway to her own room, where the covers have been pushed back and the bedside lamp is turned on.

Catalina’s bed is much safer than her own. Bad dreams hardly ever manage to get her when she’s there.

Before she can drift off again, Catalina reminds her that it’s all ok now, that Kitty is with Jane and she and Anne safe and cozy in their own beds and that there’s nothing to worry about.

And Catalina is sort of right, she knows.

But she’s also sort of not.

After all, the only reason Kitty is safe with Jane now is that Edmund got tired of her and brought her back.

Jane wasn’t able to go and rescue her herself.

She presses herself as close to Catalina as she can and tries very, very hard to think about something else.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #sixfic #six fanfiction #the next best thing

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singledarkshade · 4 years

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Seduction

Summary: After speaking at a tech conference, Gideon Ryder's new friends are fun and smart, a couple in a loving relationship, so she's surprised by the invitation to join them.

But they're hiding a secret. Author’s Note: This came from a small idea I had but only became a story thanks to a thought by @incendiaglacies. Enjoy. ********************************************* Part One The bartender placed the cocktail Gideon had ordered in front of her and waited expectantly. She grimaced slightly as she hunted through her bag trying to find her room card so she could put it on her tab.

“Here,” the man sitting just to one side of her spoke up handing the bartender his room card, “Put it on my tab.”

Gideon turned to him and smiled, “Thank you but I don’t need you to get this for me.”

“I know but,” he said, his sharp green eyes crinkling in a smile, “I just thought you looked like you were having a bad day and wanted to do something to make it slightly better. This not a come on, my wife is in the ladies.”

With a sigh she nodded, “Thank you.”

He smiled again and offered his hand, “Rip Hunter. And you’re Gideon Ryder,” he continued before she could ask, “We were at your lecture this afternoon. So impressive the work you’re doing in artificial intelligence.”

“You mean once we managed to get everything working,” Gideon laughed.

Rip nodded, “It wouldn’t be a tech conference if something didn’t go wrong with the equipment.”

With an amused shrug, Gideon chuckled, “Very true. What about you, Mr Hunter? What do you do?”

“Freelance security and IT,” he told her, “And please, it’s Rip.”

Gideon smiled but before she could say anything else a woman’s voice came from behind them.

“Typical, I leave for five minutes and you find the most gorgeous woman in the place to buy a drink for.”

Rip laughed, wrapping his arm around the beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes who quickly kissed him, he smiled, “Gideon, this is my wife Miranda.”

“So nice to meet you,” Miranda grinned, “Loved your lecture earlier. You’ll have to excuse me for a few minutes though, I found a room card on the floor I should take to the reception.”

Gideon grimaced, “Does it say Room 654?”

Miranda nodded.

“I dropped it,” she sighed, smiling in relief when Miranda handed it to her, “Thank you.”

Rip handed Miranda the drink he’d got for her before asking, “Our reservations are in five minutes. Are we having dinner?”

“If you’re hungry,” his wife smiled, “Although, Gideon if you’re not busy why don’t you join us?”

Hesitantly she shrugged, “Are you sure you don’t want to eat alone?”

“Please, I have to talk to him all the time,” Miranda waved, “You are much more interesting, and prettier.”

Rip rolled his eyes, “Thanks darling.”

Miranda blew him a kiss before sliding her arm through Gideon’s and starting her towards the restaurant, “So, tell me more about your work.”

Gideon laughed as Miranda finished the story she was telling, while Rip got them a final drink from the bar. The evening had gone faster than she realised and, despite not looking forward to this conference, Gideon had enjoyed herself.

The couple she’d had dinner with were both smart, understood her work and had such a good relationship bantering back and forth. About twenty minutes later it became clear they were no longer welcome in the bar as the staff started cleaning up around them.

“Come on, darling,” Miranda took her husband’s hand, “You can take advantage of me for the rest of the night.”

Leaning into her Rip smiled, “Tempting offer.”

Gideon smiled wistfully, she hoped one day to find someone who would look at her the way the couple looked at one another.

“Our room is on the same floor as yours,” Miranda said to Gideon, “I want to make sure you get to your room safely.”

Chuckling Gideon allowed the other woman to take a hold of her arm and they walked to the elevator together.

“How about we meet for breakfast?” Miranda suggested as they headed up to their floor.

Surprised Gideon nodded, “I’d like that.”

The bing announced they’d arrived at their floor and Gideon stepped out followed by the couple.

“You know,” Miranda said, “It’s not that late and I’m not tired. How about we have another drink?”

Gideon hesitated, but she wasn’t that tired either and not looking forward to watching the tv alone until she fell asleep so instead smiled, “That sounds nice.”

Miranda beamed, “Fantastic.”

“Let me drop my bag off in my room,” Gideon told her, “And change shoes.”

“Change into anything you want,” Miranda replied, “We are in room 662, just come along when you’re ready.”

With a smile they headed along the corridor leaving her alone. Watching the couple, Gideon admired them both for a moment before heading to her room.

Dropping her bag, she quickly changed into the pair of loose denims and her favourite red t-shirt. Sliding on the soft canvas shoes, thankful to be out of the heels she’d worn all day, Gideon quickly brushed out her hair and checked she looked presentable. Sliding her room key into her back pocket, Gideon grabbed the wine from the minibar in her room and headed out. Reaching the other room, she hesitated for a moment before knocking.

Rip opened the door and motioned her in, “Miranda has a glass of wine waiting for you.”

Gideon was sitting cross-legged on the couch while Miranda and Rip were on the chair, Miranda on her husband’s lap.

“Did I tell you how we met?” Miranda asked, sipping her drink.

“No.”

Miranda smiled at her husband, “It was a game of truth or dare at university. I chose dare, and we ended up tied together trying to drink a bottle of beer. By the end of the night he was mine.”

“You make me sound so easy,” Rip laughed.

With a smirk, Miranda replied, “But you were, my darling.”

Before he could reply his phone began to buzz, “Sorry. It’s mother.”

Gideon frowned confused checking the time.

“She’s several hours ahead of us and a very early riser,” Miranda explained as Rip disappeared into the bathroom to have his conversation.

Sliding onto the couch beside Gideon, Miranda mused, “Can I ask you something?”

“If you like,” Gideon replied intrigued.

Miranda smiled, “What would you do if I kissed you?”

Stunned Gideon glanced to the door Rip had gone through.

“You don’t have to worry about, Rip,” Miranda told her, “We have a very open marriage. Besides, he’ll only be annoyed I asked you first.”

“I…ah…” Gideon stammered.

Miranda gently brushed her hair back, “You are attracted to both of us. I can tell.”

Gideon tried to reply but the other woman gently touched her lips to Gideon’s neck, breathing deeply Gideon’s eyes closed and her head dropped back against the couch as Miranda continued to slide kisses across her skin. A moan escaped Gideon as Miranda’s lips pressed against her own in a soft kiss that deepened quickly. When they parted, Gideon opened her eyes to find Miranda now kissing Rip.

Miranda pulled back from her husband and guided him to Gideon. Not sure why, she allowed him to kiss her too.

Gideon had no idea how this had happened, she’d simply come here for a friendly drink and conversation. When Miranda kissed her Gideon was stunned but, she was attracted to the couple so decided to be spontaneous for once in her life. The kisses, while sweet at first, had become a lot more intense and soon they were undressing one another. Gideon had never been a part of a threesome before, although had fantasised about it a few times.

Miranda took control instantly, pushing her husband towards the bed before she drew Gideon along with her.

“You are so gorgeous,” Miranda murmured to Gideon, as she lay back on the bed beside Rip.

The couple began to kiss every part of Gideon and she lost herself in the sensations of Rip kissing her as Miranda’s lips slid down along her body. The couple continued to kiss and caress her. Gideon was used to being the one in charge during sex, but this time Miranda was the one in control. The couple barely interacted with one another instead both focussed solely on her pleasure.

“Wow,” Gideon lay back trying to catch her breath, “I didn’t think this would happen.”

Miranda chuckled, “How about one more ride?” she kissed Gideon’s lobe, “Rip is still locked and loaded.”

“What about you?” Gideon asked softly.

Miranda shook her head, “I can ride him any night, this is all about you.”

Following Miranda’s instructions Gideon slowly slid onto Rip, moaning in pleasure. Slowly rolling her hips as Rip rested his hands on her waist, and Miranda pressed her body against Gideon’s back, her hands cupping Gideon’s breasts murmuring encouragement in Gideon’s ear. Rip pushed himself up and pulled the two women close, Gideon cried out as her climax hit her with Rip coming a few moments later.

Gideon lay stunned by the evening’s events. Rip leaned over and grabbed a bottle of water, opening it he took a drink before handing it to Miranda. She took a quick drink and passed it to Gideon. Taking a long drink of the cool water Gideon knew she should move and head back to her own room, but she couldn’t quite get up the energy.

Rip and Miranda wrapped their arms around her, and the warmth surrounding her lulled Gideon into a deep sleep.

“Well?” Miranda asked.

Rip checked the woman asleep on the bed beside them, “She’s out. How much did you give her?”

Miranda slid off the bed and started to get dressed, “Enough so she won’t wake up until the morning.”

Pulling on his own clothes, Rip nodded, “We could have done this a lot easier if you’d stuck to the original plan.”

“And you’re telling me you did not enjoy our little tryst?” Miranda smirked, “Because I can rewind the tape.”

He rolled his eyes, “Just get dressed and let’s do what we actually came to do. Or do you not want to get paid?”

“Darling,” Miranda moved to him and rested her hands on his chest, “My way is always much more fun,” stretching up to kiss him quickly she smiled, “Let’s do this.”

Part Two

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #miranda coburn #hunterburnship #alternate universe

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bettabythesea · 5 years

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Some side characters from my original story Magical Moxie! These are the members of Team Impulse, and close allies and friends with the titular Team Moxie.

Short profiles for each under the readmore!

Name: Ryker Segal

Pronouns: He/Him

DOB (Star Sign): March 3rd (Pisces)

Age: 17

Group: Team Impulse

Theme Color: White

Transformation Trinket: A heart-shaped silver and diamond pin.

Transformation Phrase: “Heart, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Able to sprout feathery light-made wings and fly. Can summon and use a bow and arrows. Shown to have pronounced healing abilities (it works through contact so like.. He can hug people well again) although it is something he cannot really control, is able to release a lot of feathers at once which is mostly used as something akin to a smokescreen: concealing himself and his teammates for a quick getaway.

Personality Traits: Serious, brooding, blunt, easily embarrassed and flustered, quiet, independent, determined, tends to hide emotions (especially uncomfortable ones like guilt and love), easily bored, has a funny side, can be grumpy, one who expresses love through action and quality time rather than words, thoughtful, aloof, often distracted

Likes/Interests: “Weather channel music”, fantasy novels, bath bombs (incidentally because he enjoys soaking in bath bomb’d water, he has fantastic skin quite by accident), potted plants, bad mall pretzels (the more cheese the better), watching bad movies with friends and collectively roasting it the whole time, iced coffee, morning runs, cats (they remind him of Sylv), birdwatching, podcasts

Dislikes: Cold water, the dark, feeling like he’s disconnected or can’t be reached, running late for things, feeling like he’s being rushed, total silence, crowded areas, burning smells, stiff or confining clothing, bugs, school (For being contained to one area for long amounts of time and because he has to sit through lectures that he considers to be very dry), feeling like he is easily readable, harsh scents

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Name: Chiara Acerbi

Pronouns: She/They

DOB (Star Sign): August 27 (Virgo)

Age: 17

Group: Team Impulse

Theme Color: Green

Transformation Trinket: A heart-shaped clip-on pager

Transformation Phrase: “Heart, lend me power!”

Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when powered up. Is able to create polygonal light objects which are solid. Usually she uses this to create a blunt weapon of some kind, like a spiky bat or a hammer. She can also use this to create platforms to either stairstep her way through the air or in some cases, hover on one like a surfboard.

Personality Traits: Fiery, rebellious, always ready to throw down (even when and especially if she is outmatched), can have smug tendencies, works well under pressure, quick-minded, fiercely loyal, defensive

Likes/Interests: Tinkering with computers (both the hardware and the software), pulling relatively harmless pranks, bargain hunting, routine, mysteries, monster-fighting, haunted houses, strategy games, warm weather, nighttime, coffee

Dislikes: Cold weather and snow, having to get up early in the morning, figures of authority (more of a deep distrust than a dislike), her friends and teammates being hurt or threatened, not having any control of a situation, injustice (especially against those that cannot defend themselves), uncertainty and instability

---

Name: Rocco “Sylv” Sylvester

Pronouns: He/Him DOB (Star Sign): November 30th (Sagittarius) Age: 18 Group: Team Impulse

Theme Color: Yellow

Transformation Trinket: His heart Transformation Phrase: “Heart, lend me power!” Abilities: Gains super strength, defense, and agility when transformed. Able to coat himself in electricity, as well as hold an immunity to all forms of existing electricity. Can summon dual mallets with electrified heads, that can link together in the middle and be wielded like a baton. His gloves are also equipped with claws that are able to extend. His eyes glow and are catlike, so he has good night vision. Not really an ability per say but his heart and scars occasionally glow. Personality Traits: Loving, selfless, caring, gentle, a little insecure about his outward appearance, loud and boisterous, encouraging, wears his heart on his sleeve, uses his strength to protect others, naive and somewhat oblivious, friendly, laughs easily, gives out hugs like they are jolly ranchers, can have an angry and intense side if you press the right button, spontaneous Likes/Interests: Cats (everything from housecats to tigers), visiting the zoo, animals in general, 80’s power rock, action movies, Halloween (the cuter aspects of it like candy and dressing up and a fun “spooky” aesthetic), warm weather, the sky at dawn or dusk, roller coasters, roadtrips, eating frosted mini wheats dry like they're chips or something (even though it horrifies both of his teammates), fruity floral scents (does he steal his mom’s orange blossom perfume? probably), pineapple (his absolute favorite flavor. Yes he puts it on his pizza. YMMV on whether or not this is validating and empowering or horrifying), afternoon naps. Dislikes: Cold weather, long periods of rain, the fact that his appearance frightens and intimidates some people, getting called a zombie, greedy people/organizations, not getting enough sleep, hospitals/doctor’s offices, horror (not only is he easily frightened by scary movies and games, but a lot of the stories make him feel uncomfortable), seeing people upset, talking about/dwelling on sad subjects for too long Current Area of Residence: Morelle Island, FL (Based off of Ft. Lauderdale, FL) Additional notes: He has Lichtenberg Figures all over his chest, back, abdomen, arms, and a little bit on his neck. You can sort of see them, but for the most part his magical costume covers them. Also, because his eyes have catlike pupils they do that thing where they get really big at night or when something catches his interest.

#magical girl #ocs #magical moxie

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Word by Word | 01 (Bangchan x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, University/College AU

Pairing: Graphic design student!Bangchan x Literature student!/Irish!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (but what can you honestly expect when dealing with an Irish person?)

Summary: An ancient saying dictates that polar opposites attract, which is proven once again once an introverted whiskey-loving aspiring author meets a fairly extroverted boy initially proposing to survive the loneliness brought about by academic administration together.

But soon the meaning of ‘together’ expands as personal creative worlds are explored and understanding stirs up hidden emotions.

Masterlist

Next Part

For anxious people, friendly support from strangers oddly turning into companions is often needed to get through the day, finding solace in the kindred spirit of the bond has been established despite being not worth a dime. The previous semester could only be survived thanks to the small group of friends that made the seminars more bearable, huddling together and always having at least one to have as a research partner or discuss a primary source with. Withal, the university administration has different plans for the second half of the year, resulting in the complete split from familiar faces which will now only be seen on Monday for the start of the academic week with lectures.

Henceforth, yesterday was only the misleading silence before the storm, chatting and fooling around with curiously close relationships during the day. As per usual, multiple pairs of shoes found themselves to the habitual café by the canal to go for lunch together in between lectures, but a lonesome soul listening to the vivid chatter only settled for a cup of coffee since the stomach could possibly not handle more because of the all-nighter working on the next chapter of the attempted novel and composing a few more poems for a to-be-published-someday poetry bundle.

A chip off the old block, taking after the grandfather who raised a timid girl to become like this: full of too many voices and writing them down since that is the only acceptable form of schizophrenia in today’s society. Fortunately, it is while enjoying the company of Dante, a Birman with hellishly blue eyes of an extremely distrustful and arrogant nature except when being with an aspiring author rivalling with a relative. He mostly lies on the duvet on nights filled with the self-inflicted torture of bleeding behind a typewriter, occasionally jumping on the desk beneath the attic window where often a raven nicknamed Edgar settles down and demanding to be pet whenever a repose is taken for a glass o’ Irish whiskey when threatening to fall on hard creative times. Otherwise, dirty bean water is grand as well. Whatever the case, Dante conveniently though perfectly times it each time.

In the meanwhile, Virgil is likely functioning as company for Charles, who is also known as “Grandfather” during formal events of which most relate to publishing houses and to which he always has to be dragged while muttering unintelligible Gaelic profanities. Alternatively, it is the first full name whenever competing with one another or simply “Charlie” when the old balding man with a snow white moustache reviews the latest result of typing on the historic sidekick of every author. According to the in-house editor and occasional enemy, a typewriter is the sole source of ‘’pure writing’’ and imprinted the habit of working with the old school machine as soon as hands were able to write the letters formerly merely read in books.

For those unfamiliar with the cats, it is impossible to draw a distinction between the two, but those who look closer notice that Virgil does not share the same eye colour with his brother, the ocean grey betraying the fact the fluffy bastard is indeed that.

A bastard.

Exactly like his owner and the owner’s granddaughter who was also born out of wedlock.

However, even in Dante there is a trace of being not a full blood Birman since his slender skull hints at a Ragdoll influence though the selective sweetheart would never admit to it even if the ability of speech had been given to cats.

All in all, all of us are outcasts so it has become the running joke beneath the roof of the outskirts mansion we are glorious bastards. Honestly speaking, it has a nice ring to it because if being separated from others for whatever reason counts as a qualification for becoming this, then the lack of pals in primary and high school is not minded. The same goes for the adoption by a loving howbeit harshly critical grandfather because the son who should have been a proper father could not bear the sight of the offspring originating in a scandalous affair with a secretary who had no mother instinct at all, thus sharing in the shallowness with her one-time lover.

Whiskey story nights filled with almost empty pens, digits stained with ink, reading breaks and lots of swearing in frustration or joy have come to form a steady aspect of life, Charlie clearly in a better mood when settling down to shape the rough paper diamonds in each other’s company despite the exchange of insults pertaining to manuscripts or in a loving manner. An Irishman can leave Ireland, but the Irishness will never leave the individual and the island tales that at times seem mere fantastic fancies create a bond with a heritage that would otherwise have never been known.

It is because of Charles, his upbringing that has not been without it struggles, and Dante and Virgil I am still here, exerting power as an author on the Internet after creating a manuscript on the typewriter that once belonged to the moustached man’s close American friend who, too, had a taste for liquor and a talent for writing.

Apparently, one night at a party, this comrade was hit in the face by a drunken accountant who tried his hand at poetry nobody understood and insulted the boxer’s manhood, causing the offended party to strike the provoker down in drunken rage. Fortunately for the injured, the American was willing to forgive the insult after being offered an apology and the next day the papers reported the incomprehensible poet fell down the stairs, the accident resulting in a broken hip alongside other injuries, thus covering up the truth of being beaten black and blue.

When asking why nothing was done to stop the fight from escalating, the answer is always the same. ‘It was too much fun to see that idiotic sod being beaten up. Furthermore, he had it coming sooner or later because he was a fecking racist prick, Y/N. It was more of a service than a true crime.’

Basically, Granddad sat back with a bowl of popcorn and cheered his boxing buddy on.

Truly a gentleman bastard.

As proves to be an inherent characteristic, judging by the rage coming from the classically furnished writing room on the east side of the house bought with the royalties from writing pieces critical of the human condition and problems rooted in society under the guise of a cleverly composed story. ‘Virgil! For fuck’s sake, ye bloody gobshite!’

‘Charlie, how’s she cuttin’?’ Not so well, judging by the look of pure horror in fast passing stone-toned irises with elated pupils framed by deep earthy brown fur and liquid onyx paw prints creating a trail on the freshly mopped floor. What a way to leave the house before facing the horror of being left alone at the university because everyone has been placed in a different time slot. ‘Although, never mind.’

In the faux leather spinning chair behind the intricately designed baroque desk, agitated calloused fingers run through pale thin hairs while lips are pulled into a snarl at the sight of the obsidian pool of ink staining the pile of blank pages meant to be engraved with poetry. ‘Well, this is just fucking grand, isn’t it?’

‘Think about your blood pressure, ye aren’t all that spry anymore and your fans will not like it if you kick the bucket already.’ Grinning like the purple cat in the favourite story to listen to while sitting by the hearth during childhood, dark flats wander the afromosia floor to the stout big man with an irritated iron gaze that slightly softens at the sight of the lass raised as a daughter rather than a granddaughter, the pupil who has turned more and more into a peer as time went by. ‘And Virgil isn’t as graceful as Dante, prone to causing accidents yet you love him all the same.’

‘Ah, feck off.’ An eyebrow raises in question when settling down into the fauteuil in front of the bureau, casually crossing one leg over the other and endeavouring to suppress the pressing yawns as best as possible. ‘It’s yer first day of university after a week of being a dosser and you pulled an all-nighter while having to show up early. You’re not the full shilling, are ye?’

‘No. No, I’m not, but you are what you eat. I’m fine, Charlie. And I worked on a couple of poems, mind you, and also wrote two more chapters for Paper Wonderland. Furthermore, I read ahead for this block’s course so, overall, I’ve been productive.’

‘You haven’t been until I’ve seen the first drafts.’ It is a house rule: there are no actual original versions of a part of a tale unless the stern editor has seen it and given feedback. Otherwise, it is nothing more than stained paper.

‘Oi, I want to keep some element of surprise to blow you off yer socks when you read the full result. Where’s the fun in being spoiled beforehand when it can become the reason I’ll finally conquer the throne you’re currently sitting on. One day, one day I’ll finally be recognized as more than mere family.’

The mentor stands up to walk around the chaotically ruined heavy piece of furniture to put an encouraging hand on the shoulder and give it a little encouraging squeeze, which gets nullified by a comment that makes the characteristic need for rivalry flare up. ‘Keep dreaming about that day, ye wee chiseler, and maybe, just maybe you’ll manage.’

A sarcastic mirthless chuckle functions as a nullifying factor for the elder’s smugness while standing up from the oddly comfortable espresso brown chair to head for the door. ‘You really like throwing shapes, don’t ye, gramps?’

‘As much as any grand man.’ The old great man matches the pace to the young feet eventually coming to a halt at the entrance of the writing office.

At the double doors, on the edge of a casual temporary farewell, all devilishness fades away into fatherly concern due to the realization a difficult social challenge has to be faced, having had many conversations about the introverted anxiety of a mask-wearing lass who merely acts like a young professional while working as a barista to earn a little cash on the side. ‘Take that puss off yer face, Y/N. You’re gonna be grand because you’re a full-grown woman with an Irish background. We’re tough people made of iron who don’t take anyone’s intimidation.’

Two big wrinkled hands wrap themselves around upper arms clad in a neatly-ironed alabaster collared shirt as a moustached mouth places a familial hope-giving smooch on the forehead before giving the right cheek a weak playful slap. ‘Now, go, you fine thing. Maybe you’ll catch the eye of a proper laddie.’

‘Feck off.’ A playful punch on the shoulder undoes the intimacy and grants the opportunity to crack on to catch the bus towards doom after putting on a khaki trench coat and slinging the stone-grey laptop bag over the shoulder.

‘I don’t recommend effin’ and blindin’, though. Tends to give a bad image,’ is the last piece of laughingly uttered advice which is seemingly also disregarded howbeit with an absently-minded waving hand wandering down the sandstone cobblestone path towards the main road.

And before taking an immediate right out of the gate towards the nearest bus stop, the other one holds the habitual saviour in the form of a book already.

An opportunity to escape the nervousness brought about by cruel reality that is taken away when bumping into someone, an accident which still tends to happen despite the mastery of avoidance skills, and the account of the life of a bookseller falls onto the concrete.

Eyes as big as a doe’s when caught in the headlights of a rapidly approaching car stare in horror at annoyed molten chocolate irises above an admittedly adorable big nose, irritated by an ignorant daydreamer under the constant scrutiny of the world, which quickly gain a weird gentleness when truly looking back. ‘I’m so, so fe- sorry. I should watch where- no, watch my footing. Again, I’m so sorry.’

Please, don’t get mad. Grand job, Y/N. The day’s barely begun and you already messed up.

‘It’s alright.’ Bleached short locks clad in an onyx leather jacket squat down to pick up the paperback on the ground, long pale fingers dusting off the little dirt the impact of the fall has caused to stain the cover before handing it back. ‘You dropped this.’

Trembling hands accept a small piece of peace of mind, gaze averted from the small fading kind smile on the young man’s face to stare with burning cheeks and a raving heart at dark flats aching to flee the situation. ‘Thanks.’

‘Miss? Are you alright?’ The lost distant type of contact from just a second ago is futilely tried to be re-established, unable to connect thus to a soul with a thousand voices within now all rendered to a flustered whisper.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll- I need to go. Don’t want to miss the bus.’ A curt nod ends the conversation abruptly, turning away as fast as lightning while muttering a form of apologetic goodbye as the walking pace enhances to a speed barely shy of running. ‘Again, my apologies.’

However, as Fate or mere coincidence would have it, this meeting is not the last as tracks are silently retraced by foreign sneakers as blasting songs from various genres disclose the world from a never tranquil consciousness.

A few minutes more the blissful unknowing continues, reading irises stuck in the sceptic description of a man able to do what wants to be done in case becoming a writer does not work out.

A few minutes more the wind has the possibility to play freely with locks without it being noticed nor minded.

Then all changes with the approach of the awaited vehicle.

The loudness comes back with the bus.

And an ink-black leather jacket.

#Kpopwonderlandtag #Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids x Reader #Stray Kids fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Chris Bang

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rwbyremnants · 5 years

Link

Casual reminder this is still an AU, and Mr. Schnee is not the same as he is in the show.

THE END BUT NOT THE END!

So this is the last of the main story! Be prepared - we are about to hop forward a few years for a two-part epilogue, so stay tuned for that! Then you can stay tuned for more exciting things from RWBYRemnants, both in this verse and others!

=Chapter 41

The next couple of days flew by in a flurry of activity for the two honeymooning lovebirds. Sushi, shopping, and hitting random local attractions abounded, and they couldn't have been happier to do each and every one. It was all they had hoped for from their little cross-country vacation.

As Yang predicted, Weiss had a single near-emergency the morning after their new experiment, and after that her muscles were completely normal again. There was some vague teasing about diapers, but a good, firm pinch on Yang's bicep ended that fairly quick. Other than that, they were just happy to be intimate with each other again, and it dispelled a lot of that lingering awkwardness borne of their time spent apart.

By the time they made it to the Schnee building and were in the elevator on the way up, Weiss's contentment that her father and sister were both more accepting now had receded very slightly. She felt anxious all over again, stomach tying itself into knots and heart pounding. Sure, her father had said that he was fine with her dating a trans woman, but that could have been so much lip service; an attempt to soothe her and keep her from going off on him right away. Or even just the sheer relief of her being alive after the tragedy overshadowing any other concerns. How would it be when they actually met face to face again?

"This is it," Weiss whispered when the elevator doors whooshed open, taking Yang's good hand and squeezing it gently. "Moment of truth."

As they started to make their way down the halls, headed toward the once infamous office of Papa Schnee, Yang couldn't help but feel nostalgic about the whole affair. Two months ago, she was helping Weiss with her cases after the tour had finished. And three months prior to that, she and Weiss were at each other's throats, with Yang having to punch a security member to try and earn her trust. How odd it felt to be walking these halls again, hand in hand.

"It's gonna be fine," she reassured the diva as they waited outside the door, bracing herself for when Weiss was to knock. "He's been okay on the phone, and I bet Winter's talked him down, as well. Glad we have her on our side now."

"Agreed. So much worse to have to walk in there and face both of them for the same talk." Then she raised her fist, hesitated, and turned to give Yang a quick little kiss. "You ready?"

Taking a deep breath of her own, she took a moment to compose herself again. Before finally facing the door, and nodding. "Let’s do this thing."

So then she raised her hand, took another breath, and knocked. A few seconds later, there was a click, and the door swung open to show Winter blinking mildly at the two of them.

"O-oh!" Weiss breathed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. "I, um, didn't think you would already be back here from LA!"

"Things were wrapped up fairly smoothly." The taller woman's smile was tight, but at least it wasn't a frown. "Come in; he's been waiting."

When she stepped back to let Weiss in, she glanced at Yang briefly before walking through. They crossed the space to the man's desk, Weiss's high heels echoing in the space much more sharply than Yang's boots. The blonde felt as if she could throw up. Nonetheless, her hand never left Weiss's as she followed her into his larger area of the office.

Of course, Mr Schnee was at first signing a lot of paperwork, until he looked up – and unlike his usual meetings with either of them, he rose from his chair. Still in his best suit as usual, yet the once stern expression was absent. It was more concern than anything else. Watching as his daughter and her new partner approached the desk, he seemed to swallow nervously.

"…Weiss."

"Father," she replied in kind. Short, but courteous. "How are you?"

"Up to my neck in paperwork, to be frank. Paparazzi and talk shows are constantly contacting me to ferret out your whereabouts, and let’s not even get started with your publicists. However… oh, none of that’s important."

He'd already started to step out from his desk to one side, enough so the pathway between them both was clear, and held his arms out for her to run into. It had been too many years since he had shown such a gesture.

"I’m just so glad to see you."

She did not take off running straight away. Releasing Yang's hand, she took a hesitant step forward, very wary of this new side of him. Was it really alright? So many years had passed with him being emotionally closed-off that now she didn't know how to handle him opening up.

"Go on," Winter encouraged very softly from behind her.

And that was all she needed. Dashing across the space, she flung herself into her father's waiting embrace. Immediately, he embraced her right back, stroking her hair softly as he pulled her against his body. After years of no contact, he was certainly trying to make up for it in a single hug. That much was obvious when the odd tear or two fell down his cheek.

And Yang stood back, smiling to herself as she watched them reunite after so long. Just like with Winter, this was clearly what Weiss needed. To repair her tattered family again.

"I'm sorry, Daddy!" she cried into his chest, clinging tightly. "I wanted to tell you, w-when I could, not for the news to do it!"

"Don't be sorry, I should be sorry," he insisted, stroking her hair yet again. "I should never have seeded my girls with so much ignorance. I'm such an idiot, and a failure as a father! And with Yang, you must have felt so awful…"

Taking a deep breath, she was able to cut off her emotional outburst much more quickly than before. So much had gone on recently, and she was in a much better place, that crying almost seemed like a luxury she had run out of.

"I did, but… none of us knew any better. Not before we had this random crash course known as 'my love life', anyway. We were the same as you, not meaning to be unkind to anyone but never learning any different." She chanced a smile that came very near teasing him. "Guess you're never too old to learn, huh?"

"One or two phone calls helped." He then gazed over to Winter for a moment, sparing her a loving smile. Although they were still conducting themselves with similar professionalism to before, both seemed much happier in each other’s company now. Certainly enough to spare a smile to each other.

"Oh, really?" Weiss scoffed. "So you two are talking about me behind my back, are you? That's real nice."

"Don't get snippy now," Winter warned, even though she was wearing a smile similar to their father's. "We were discussing whether or not we should release a statement to the press. Finally, we decided that we should be leaving that up to you, of course."

"Up to you and your… girlfriend." That tone seemed a bit uncertain. Similar to Winter’s when she first discovered the photos of Yang before transition. He wasn't about to lecture her or call her out on that now, was he?! But when Yang shifted about slightly more nervously, Mr Schnee chuckled to himself. "I'm sorry, it just feels so strange for it to say aloud. I was always worried she'd come home with a… a rapscallion of a boy, but she turns up with a girl, who I hired! What a world."

"O-oh… Um, yeah." Yang coughed, unable to help but nervously shrug her shoulders, still keeping a fair distance. Seemed he didn't know of Yang's gender status, after all; Winter had seen fit to keep it under wraps. But that didn't do anything to stop the jitters. After all, she was still dating the boss's daughter.

"Dad, I… want you to meet her. Really meet her this time, not just a job interview." She finally drew back just enough to reach out for Yang's hand, hoping she would be brave enough to come forward but prepared to approach if she wasn't.

There was a moment's hesitation. This was a lot to take in! But in the end, she took Weiss's hand and stepped forward toward them both, barely managing to look up at Mr Schnee's rather stern expression. After a period of weathering it, she glanced at Weiss, who nodded reassuringly. Clearing her throat, she held out her better hand. "It's nice to… properly meet you, sir."

But Mr Schnee only stared at her hand for a moment, seemingly in disapproval. That was until he grasped her wrist and pulled her in toward him, hugging her just as tightly as he did Weiss. Much to the blonde's surprise, of course! That had been the last thing she expected! Right away he patted her back, a friendly gesture he rarely offered anyone, even his friends.

"For what you did for my daughter that day, the pleasure is all mine."

Obviously, Weiss was beaming like a five-year-old on Christmas morning, even jumping up and down very slightly. She drew her arm out from behind her father and placed her hand atop their clasped hands, almost as if sealing some kind of deal.

"Fantastic! I'm glad you approve of her, because we're getting married."

"WHAT?!" Winter burst out almost immediately, dropping the tablet she had just picked up from Mr Schnee's desk with a loud clatter. That same question was echoed by both Mr Schnee and Yang herself, who both quickly looked over to Weiss with concern. Though for Yang it was more fear than anything, as she suspected Mr Schnee wouldn't be all too thrilled with their apparent decision after only a few months.

"I'm kidding!" Weiss laughed, cackling and slapping her leg. But when they did not join her immediately, her laughter faltered. "You… oh no, did you really think…?"

"Oh, thank goodness! I mean… I don’t disapprove, but let me get to know the girl first!" her father reassured, eventually releasing his ‘daughter-in-law's’ hand to ruffle up her hair instead, even as she protested and quite obviously looked over to Weiss, seeming to mimic as though she was choking.

"Lil… Help?"

"Daddy, stop teasing her; she's already worried about how you'll like her." This was perhaps a bit too honest, but Weiss saw no point in beating around the bush now that most of the formalities were out of the way.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't tease us if you do not wish the two of you to be teased," Winter said, not unkindly but with a slight edge to her voice. Clearly, the news had flustered her – because she had picked up the tablet and was raising it with the screen pointing away from her. "Honestly…"

With a laugh of his own, Mr Schnee finally released Yang from his grasp, giving her a final pat on the shoulder. Seemed the formalities really were out of the way, considering the immense grin on his face, and the content smile as he looked Yang up and down. "Well, like I said; it will take some getting used to, but I think you'll make an honest woman out of my youngest." And then he looked to Weiss with the same grin. "Your mother would be jealous of the long hair, though."

"God, I don't know how she does it, either," Weiss sighed, drooping slightly — both in hair-related depression, and because she was relieved that things were going so well. "I mean, I use the best shampoos and conditioners money can buy, and I still don't have that much volume and resilience! Do you know how hard I can pull on this hair and get no breakage?! It's insane!"

Immediately when hair-pulling was mentioned, Yang's cheeks seemed to light up. As well as her putting her hand by her throat, signalling for Weiss to keep quiet about that; it revealed just a little too much about their private lives! But thankfully for them both, her father didn't seem to notice. Or at least, he pretended he didn't while he finally paced back to his desk with a soft chuckle of his own. But once he sat down, he did look to the papers on his desk, pulling out various forms.

"Unfortunately, family reunion aside, there are one or two business matters I do want to address with you both. Things the media have particularly wondered."

Nodding, Weiss took one of the two seats offered. "Naturally. I mean, I'll go on record as 'gay' if that's what they need, but honestly, I don't care about the label as much as I care about Yang."

"Well, the sexuality issue I've put on hold, because I'd rather you were the one to discuss it than it be through me. I may be better than I was, but I'm still learning, and frankly I don't want to screw up again. A-hah!" Finally, he seemed to find one of the papers he was searching for. Pulling it free from among the pile, he looked to it for a moment as he read the various text, smiling contentedly. "More importantly, they’re really clamoring for a full version of yours and Yang's song. Some are even wondering if you plan on an album of that genre; it would be a departure, for sure, but…"

"I… what?" Glancing down at the page he was reading, Weiss then turned to her girlfriend. "Did you know he was going to do this? I mean, asking you up onstage was just a last-minute idea, I never…"

But Yang was just as much in shock as she was. That was clear when she shook her head in response to the question. Looking to her lover's father with a rather confused gaze, she asked, "Do you mean, me specifically? With her?"

"Who else?" he asked, pulling out another form to read and check over.

"But… why me? I'm a bodyguard, I just play as a hobby. You can get any musician you want to do some acoustic stuff that's way more talented than me."

"Somehow, I don't think another musician would collaborate as well as you two. Nor do I think your audience would be happy if it was anyone else." Satisfied with the checks on the other form, he handed it to Weiss for her to look over. To Yang, it made no sense. Just lots of places for signatures and various paragraphs of text.

But Weiss had seen it too often: a recording contract.

"Daddy…" Her voice closed off as she read over it; this was better than he would have offered just anyone. Still not as lucrative as her own contract, and she couldn't fault him for that, but it was ridiculously generous to give a completely untested new talent this much consideration.

"Well," Winter suddenly put in, "once I went back to watch the video again, after I got past my… misgivings about Xiao Long, I couldn't deny that the music was beautiful. Not overly complex, not droll or simplistic; just a heartfelt melody. We'd be foolish not to at least consider signing her."

"Now as you can see, it's not a major deal. This is going to be very experimental, for everyone involved. But, if you want to give it a shot to see how it goes, the opportunity is there. We can let the world decide how famous your new side project gets."

But the warnings seemed to fall on deaf ears. Yang only continued to stare out blankly, completely speechless by the events. All she could think was that this was some sort of dream, that she'd suddenly wake from. But it was all there in black and white.

"Told you," Weiss said, grinning fiercely at her partner. "I told you that your talent was more than you gave yourself credit for! Oh, this is so exciting!"

When passed an identical contract herself, the blonde's focus went to it instead, where she read the various fine print and looked at what she needed to fill in. It was real, everything was real. Not only was she dating the famous Weiss again, but her father had graciously accepted her into the family. And now she was even given the option to collaborate with her, have her own name become famous with their help. Making music. No longer was it a dream, no longer was she just dating her sister's idol; she could be an idol to people herself.

It seemed she wasn't so different to Ruby after all, as shortly after reading the small print, she seemed to slowly keel to one side, letting out a small groan when she herself fainted.

"YANG!" Weiss gasped as her family members started, her father rising to his feet while watching his daughter rush to catch her. "Damn it, not again! What is with you two?!"

Thankfully Yang's recovery didn't take too long. The instant she woke again, Weiss helped her through the process of the contract. She told her what to write, where to sign, and all of the other information she possibly needed. Only a few other questions had to be dealt with that day, until Mr Schnee let the couple, and Winter, be on their way so he could finish the rest. They had earned that much.

But the day was far from over, as Weiss told her girlfriend, anyway. Yang was completely clueless as to what was going on as she sat in the back of Winter's car with her girlfriend. Under her insistence, the snood was completely over her eyes while the car journeyed along. But that didn't stop the occasional question.

"Is it… Taco Bell? Is that the surprise?"

"Of course not," Weiss sighed in exasperation, given that this was the eighth such inquiry. "And keep that snood on or I'll never forgive you!"

"Girls, girls," Winter said in her best matronly voice. "Settle down back there or I'll turn this car around!"

It took a few seconds for Weiss to mutter, "It's scary how much you sound like her when you do that, God."

"Can I not even peek?" But the instant a finger touched the snood, the immediate "NO!" made Yang draw her hand away, and instead she just continued to giggle as she sat contentedly.

However, something had been on her mind since the encounter: how nice Mr Schnee was about the whole situation. When it was Winter first discovering they were together, the more concerning thing for her was the fact Yang was transgender. And yet, Mr Schnee didn't seem to mind at all…

"Hey, Winter?" Yang asked as she shuffled in her seat again. "When you talked to your dad about me and Weiss… What did you say, exactly? Cause he seemed pretty damn… cool about… what kind of girl I am.”

"Ah." As the car was guided around a corner, the elder sister said, "I didn't disclose your gender status. Though I did contemplate it when I told Weiss and she did not seem to mind, in the end I thought it was best to approach you directly instead of him. And I still believe that's best, though for different reasons now."

The car came to a smooth halt. Winter took a deep breath and followed up, "I know now that my actions, digging into your past… yes, I was only doing my job to keep Weiss safe from would-be predators, but the information I found out about you… I wish I could unlearn it and have you tell me yourself. That would have been more ideal. Since I cannot do that, I thought I could at least afford you that luxury with my father. As… some small apology."

Although the blindfold hid away most of her face, the small smile seemed to say enough. They really had come so far from the loggerheads they were right at the beginning. "I'm pretty grateful for that. Thanks, Winter. I'll tell him eventually, but for now, maybe I should just see if it comes up?"

"Perhaps." Then she cleared her throat. "And, um… do you mind if I speak to Weiss alone for a moment?"

"We can’t!" Weiss snapped. "I have to get out to make sure she doesn't peek!"

Though giggling, Yang nodded, blindly reaching for the car door handle as she flicked it open. "Don't sweat it, I'll be good! Just don't let me walk into moving traffic and I'll be fine."

Once Yang had closed the door, Weiss turned back to Winter and tried to assume a less hostile expression than she would have a mere month ago. "Well?"

"Alright. So… we have established that we wish to be more… sisterly, haven't we?" Winter asked, voice clearly a bit nervous. Scared, even, of what Weiss's answer would be on this topic. “Gossip the way other sisters do. Which, granted, I don’t have a lot of firsthand experiences, but I’ve seen them on TV and in movies.”

"Of course. I'm still holding you to the pyjama party, no matter where we end up having it. And you're painting my toenails."

Coughing slightly, oddly embarrassed at that thought, Winter shook it off and pressed, "Sisters can tell each other anything, right? Well…" More fidgeting, and finally the woman turned in her car seat to gaze straight back at the younger Schnee, who was simply waiting patiently for the point to come along. "Yang… um… how big is she? Are we talking average, or…?"

"Big? She's not that much taller than me, but you can-" When the meaning hit home, Weiss's eyes and mouth formed a perfect trio of wide hoops as she gasped, then literally sat up so fast her head hit the ceiling with a thump! "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING ME THIS?!"

"I'm sorry! I just- ever since I figured that out during my research, I couldn't get the question out of my mind, I've been dying to know! I mean, I've never met any women with her equipment, so I don't know how it measures up to-"

"Look up some PORN! God, Winter, I am absolutely ashamed of you for asking about my girlfriend's DICK!"

Ducking her head, Winter tried to cough again to hide the true reason her cheeks were filling with rouge. "Honestly, I apologise! Please don't be angry, I didn't think- you don't have to tell me, I just thought I'd ask, I… I didn't mean to offend!"

"Wow," Weiss deadpanned, still shaking her head slightly. "Gee, I don't know how asking your sister how much dick she's getting could be at all offensive! Or weird! Guess I'm just silly like that!"

"No, no, this wasn’t about you or how you interact with it, just… her basic measurement!" When Weiss inhaled, she squeezed her eyes shut and hastily added, "Not that I still think you'll tell me! Just wanted to be clear what my question was!"

"Fine. You've been clear." As she scooted toward the door, she hesitated with her hand on the handle. "IF… you don't think it's too skeevy for us to talk about this, I'll CONSIDER giving you some details at our slumber party. But not a moment before!"

Completely relieved, Winter sighed and mopped her brow. "Very well, I'll… I'll see about buying a few Blu-Rays and some nail polish. Maybe some pyjamas with patterns of fuzzy pink animals."

"Jesus, you want to know that bad, don't you?"

"THAT ISN'T WHY I-" But she stopped when she caught sight of the smirk on Weiss's face and glared. "You're teasing me. I'm sitting here, feeling like an awful person, and you're teasing me!"

But Weiss didn't directly respond. Instead, she merely opened her door and said, "We'll get our things from the trunk. Enjoy your drive back!"

Winter didn't answer.

Having managed to find her way to a safe spot — at least what she thought was a safe spot — Yang continued to hum to herself as she twiddled her thumbs. She did as Weiss asked; no peeking until she told her she could. But from the sound of the car door, that was going to be soon.

Facing the direction which it came, she grinned happily, asking, "Can I peek now? Pretty please?"

"No," Weiss said immediately as she opened the already-popped trunk and withdrew their suitcases. "Just hang onto your bag, and I'll guide you inside. I will let you know when you're allowed to look." Then she slammed the lid and added, "Understand?"

"Alright alright, Mrs Boss-Schnee." As asked, she held her case with the better hand, having to take Weiss's with the casted one as she guided her away. All the while, Yang was completely in the dark about this surprise. Figuratively, and literally. No hints, no clues, nothing. She really had no idea what awaited her once Weiss let her look. It was scary, but also exciting.

"Just a little further," Weiss said as she unlocked the door, guiding Yang past it and deeper inside. Their steps echoed as if they were in a larger, more open indoor space. The hands took the suitcase and set it aside, turned Yang very slightly, then reached up and nipped the snood away. "Okay. You can open your eyes."

When Yang did, what she observed was a living room. However, it was a very unique one; everything was rounded and in earthy tones, a long, curved couch, a low coffee table made of dark wood. Round little ottomans. An executive chair and a couple of electric guitars off to one side… and as she noticed, the yellow-and-black ‘Tobacco Sunburst’ acoustic was propped up next to them, ready to be strummed. Most distinctive was the floor-to-ceiling panoramic window that looked out over Old Hickory Lake; it was a gorgeous view.

A very familiar view. One that should have belonged to…

"Iron Man," Weiss followed up her train of thought with an elated little bounce when she edged into the corner of Yang's field of vision, her hands behind her back and cheeks bunched up from smiling. "I had a crew start work on building this during the tour, and… well, I didn't think to call it off when you went to Chicago. Now I'm glad I didn't, or there would have been no way it'd be completed by now."

Yang didn't think she could be any more speechless than earlier. But she was. She truly was. Slowly pacing downward toward the huge window, she looked out in awe at the sight before her, one that would no doubt be fantastic in a sunset or a sunrise. But just where were they, exactly? As she slowly stepped to look around the rest of the building, she continued to gape at all of the small quirks and features. This was much more personal, much more of a living space then her sterile apartment in her father's building was. It was alive.

"Did you… Did you build an entire house? For us?" she asked, continuing to look around for a moment longer. Though that question seemed silly. Of course a house couldn't be finished in such little time. But a renovation, maybe.

"For you," she corrected, following her around like an eager puppy. "You said you wanted a place like this of your own, modeled after Tony Stark's. I mean, I don't know how many details I got right; I'm not as big a fan as you are. But I trusted the architect I hired to be thorough in his research."

"This is just…" Continuing to gaze around the living room, to the couch and TV area, she could barely string a sentence together. Weiss did this all for her. And had it prepared for a long, long time. When she walked and finally sat herself down on said couch, she looked up toward her, tilting her head. "And I thought the only home you had was your apartment."

"It was." Then she approached and plunked herself down on the same couch. "But… now I have you. And I want us to have a home; one that you like. Not just moving in with me at my dad's building."

"You… I… wait." Leaning forward, she stared toward the ground for a moment longer to try and process everything. So much had happened today; the recording contract, being accepted fully by Weiss's father, and now this. She wanted them to live together, in a house she'd specifically modelled for her. This was hers and Yang's house, in every way. And Weiss made the arrangements for it while they were away, without her even knowing. It was an incredible surprise. One she knew not how to respond to.

But thinking on it further, she still hesitated longer. The last time she said she had to think about it, that she couldn't admit her true feelings in fear of timing, it nearly got them separated forever. She knew she loved Weiss; and knew from that painful separation, she wanted to be with her forever. Moving permanently was a big step, a big and scary step.

"You… actually want to live with me?"

Weiss scooted forward just a bit and turned in her seat to grasp Yang's thigh with both of her hands. "That's all I want. The only thing I want out of my life… all the glamour and stardom, talk shows, money, being successful… what's the point of it all if I can't share it with the only person who makes me truly happy?"

That seemed to settle it. There was no point in hiding her true feelings. Not when she and Weiss clearly wanted the same thing. Perhaps it was too soon, or perhaps it was just another step. Yang didn't care. She was more than willing to take it this time, and discover what the future had in store for them. Though for a moment, she bit her lip and smirked, before she leant in closer to Weiss on the sofa, resting a head on her shoulder as she looked up innocently.

"Don't suppose there's a lab in the basement with a bunch of iron suits is there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Weiss said with an affected air. "Haven't you met me? I'm THE Weiss. I don't do things halfway." She stood, reaching out a hand for her love. "Though I'm afraid the technology for the suits to actually fly and shoot laser beams isn't on the market yet. Sorry."

"Did you at least get me a fucking rad cosplay of him? Or Rescue?" Though when the latter of the two raised an eyebrow, as she was confused by the question, she laughed nervously. "Right, the comics aren't your thing. It’s totally fine that I’m the bigger geekburger here."

Laughing self-consciously, Weiss said, "I've never read a comic that wasn't in the Sunday newspaper in my entire life. But…" Pulling Yang in close, she leaned up and kissed her cheek softly. "If you have some, maybe I'll like them. But hey, I mean, never hurts to try something new, right? Y-you can, um… find me a good one, and I’ll try it."

“Really?!” Turning her head to press their foreheads against one another, the blonde’s smile grew into a ridiculous grin. "I'll get them when I grab the rest of my stuff, then."

"You really do have comics? That's pretty cool!" When Yang raised an eyebrow, she shrugged, "Well… I mean, it seems nerdy, but then again I've never known anyone who actually had them. And you definitely are not nerdy! Th-that is, in that lame way…" She trailed off, laughing at herself and gazing down at the floor. "I'll stop before I sound even worse."

She couldn't help but giggle to herself. Weiss seemed to miss the point Yang was getting at. "You realise that was a 'Yes, I'll move in with you', right?"

"Well yeah, but I don’t want you to think I care if you’re a nerd or… oh? I- oh." The diva’s face went slack for a moment as she processed, then brightened considerably. "You… really will? You’re sure? You don't hate it, you… and with me being here? Oh, Yang! Come here!"

Then she leapt up and threw her arms around her neck, drawing her down for a flurry of kisses. She wasn't about to stop showing Yang how unbelievably happy she was for a long, long time.

#White Noise #popstarverse #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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lep-the-local-fool · 7 years

Text

DBD College AU

Professors

Philip (Wraith): English

Lovable, quiet, and sweet. A lecture with him makes it very clear that he's sensitive and thoughtful, winning over his students quickly and accidentally, although he rarely speaks outside of lectures.

Emails from him are always cheery and heartwarming. As universally agreed among staff and his students, must be protected at all costs.

While Lisa, the Student Welfare Officer, often times steals him away for gabbing - he’s a wonderful listener, she will insist, though purely because he’s so quiet - Philip most enjoys the company of Max, whose mild ways mirror his own, and whose complementarity of interests make for lots of learning opportunities. For example, Max comes to Philip’s house to fix his appliances, and Philip sends Max poems about nature and calm things - only a few are his original works, but they amaze Max every time. Unknown to Philip, Max collects every poem he has ever received in photo album that sits on his desk - including one Philip jotted down on a napkin during a long flight.

Max (Hillbilly): Mechanical Engineering

A kind, simple man who knows everything there is to know about his subject, but not much else.

Max is quite insecure about his appearance and intelligence, as he used to be bullied incessantly as a child and never truly recovered, as his parents didn’t believe in the existence of mental health issues and told him only to ‘man up’. He enjoys Philip’s company immensely, because he knows such superficial things mean nothing to him.

Is terrified by his assistant, Amanda. It's a wonder he took her on as an assistant, but he says it's because she showed passion.

A very understanding and patient teacher. New students are typically intimidated by his appearance, but learn very quickly that he's devoted to helping them succeed in any way he can, staying behind after lectures sometimes for hours to answer questions, and answering students’ emails at every given opportunity.

Herman (Doctor): Medicine

The simultaneously terrifying and hilarious lead professor of medicine.

His lectures are enthusiastic, active, and interactive, frequently calling students to answer questions and take guesses. He advocates giving your best shot, even if it's wrong, for the sake of innovation and creative thinking. Even when he tells students that they’re incorrect, he never makes them feel stupid or unappreciated, always coming back around to why they had a good idea. Students either love him or hate him, there's no in between - it just depends on their ability and motivation to keep up with him.

Admin

Lisa (Hag): Student Welfare Officer

The chatty, gossipy student welfare officer. Her job is office-based, but she can typically be found frequenting the college's famous café, having coffee and chatting with anyone she knows – and anyone she doesn't.

She has a strong, vibrant presence that scares off more timid characters, but if you can stand being interrupted when she's excited or her enthusiastic attitude toward everything, you'll get along with her fantastically. She loves to help the students, and has had a particularly close relationship with Nea, who sees her for moral support and a good chat, as she has mild depression and doesn't want to see a therapist. Nea has come to see her like an aunt, and Lisa is very protective of her.

Evan (Trapper): Chancellor

Evan is typically a playful, relaxed guy, but he can be incredibly stern and distant when he needs to be, making him a petrifying sight to deviant students. Despite this, he's a level-headed and understanding boss, and cherishes the way his staff embrace their roles and get involved with the goings-on of the college.

Bill: Disciplinary Officer

A grumpy old man whose playful side only shows itself in spurts. He's an advocate of swift and harsh justice, and often has to be toned down by Evan, the Chancellor.

Ace: Social Secretary

A fun-loving man who absolutely adores his job, putting on all sorts of events for the students both in the college and in other venues, including club nights, dances, social gatherings, and – upon receiving an anonymous email recommending it – stay-in nights for the quieter students.

Like Lisa, the Student Welfare Officer, he can hardly be contained in his cubicle, constantly roaming the college and talking to students, gauging their attitudes and personalities so he can arrange the ideal social environment of the college accordingly. While some students are put off by his ultra-charismatic ways and his confident-bordering-on-cocky attitude, he's generally well-loved and massively appreciated.

Staff

Sally (Nurse): Nurse

A lovely sight, whether you're about to pass out or otherwise. Sally is incredibly sweet and gentle, and very practiced in medicine. It's not uncommon for students to go to the infirmary for the tiniest things just to be seen by Sally.

She brings tea and biscuits out to Ana, the security guard, when there are no patients. Ana appreciates her immensely, but is incapable of expressing gratitude past a simple, 'thank you'. But considering Ana rarely speaks as it is, Sally is delighted to get even this from her.

Herman was Sally's old professor, and they catch up all the time. Their personalities are incredibly polar, but they get along incredibly well – though Sally occasionally slaps Herman's wrist when his proposed practices ignore a little thing called 'ethics'.

Ana (Huntress): Security

An incredibly stoic, chiseled figure that can typically be found at the front gates of the college, unless a student has worked up the courage to ask her to unlock a door. Otherwise she may also be dragging a student out of a lecture theatre or kicking trespassers off the property. Once in a while, when a noise complaint isn't sorted out for days on end, she'll go pay the dorms a visit, terrifying the many students who have never seen her off her post.

Is quietly infatuated by Sally, the nurse, who keeps her company and gives her refreshments almost daily. Ana is unaware that Sally is very single and would happily go out with her, figuring that as a slightly barbaric security officer, she'd have no chance with the incredibly sweet and intelligent nurse. Regardless, Ana is still a proud keeper of her role, and wouldn't think to let their status difference affect her confidence.

Has a wordless, friendly relationship with Jake, who often sits by the gates of the college, eating or staring off into space. They occasionally make eye contact, nod, and continue their day.

Michael: Security

According to the students, Michael is in constant competition with Ana for most terrifying person to see on campus. The two of them rarely speak to each other, sometimes not even exchanging a glance when they swap shifts.

While his stern, unmoving face might insist he's not a push-over, he uses his status to grant his sister, Laurie, just about any of her ridiculous whims – short of actually breaking any rules.

An insider’s perspective sheds light on Michael’s constant efforts to be a good brother, though they are constantly trampled by his immutably cold demeanor and distorted mental state; Michael wouldn’t think to try and understand other people, and seems completely apathetic to the struggles others. Laurie has been the only exception to this, and only because Michael puts very active, conscious effort into protecting her. The idea of being able to achieve sympathy for any given person is an exhausting and pointless concept to him.

Tapp: Head of Security

While he's Head of Security and should thus be considered the most intimidating person to see walking down the halls, students find it honestly a bit hilarious that he's the one in charge of the beasts that are Ana and Michael; either one of them could probably take his arm off before breakfast.

He's an understanding guy in general, but takes the upkeep of rigid college policy very seriously. Despite this, he is, without a doubt, the most likely member of the security force to negotiate; most students would rather be dragged off by Tapp twenty times over than get a sideways glance from Michael. Tapp isn’t unaware of this, either, and despite his outranking of Ana and Michael, struggles not to feel inferior, often overcompensating with volatile aggression. Ana and Michael are completely unaware of his predicament, both considering him very much their superior.

Amanda (Pig): Mechanical Engineering Assistant

An impatient, hot-headed woman, incredibly intelligent and inventive, but terrible for helping students. No one knows really why she decided to become his assistant, considering how much of her duties involve helping him in teaching.

She terrifies her mentor, Max, although as a previous student of his, she respects him deeply and takes his word as gospel.

Students

Apartment groups:

Nea + Jake

Feng + Laurie + Claudette

Meg + Dwight

David + Quentin

Meg: English

A strong, fiery personality, constantly restless, and more than a little hot-headed. She's incredibly social and loves to be around people. She can make a group of strangers feel like age-old friends, and makes any social gathering about twenty times more interesting.

Is best friends with her flatmate, Dwight, and Nea, whom she met on her course.

Heard the English degree would be easy, and is really only attending the college because of her track scholarship. She's not a fan of English, but Nea helps her out all the time, and Meg is constantly amazed by Nea's prowess.

She appears incredibly confident, never afraid to ask questions, make phone calls, or talk to strangers when the need arises. She doesn't particularly care what people think of her. She sometimes slips into uncertainty, particularly when it comes to coursework or struggles with track, but Nea and Dwight are always there to bring her back to herself.

Sometimes emails Phillip, her English lecturer, with random questions just to read his friendly, endearing response. She'd never admit it, though.

Dwight: Mechanical Engineering

One of Meg's flatmates, was more or less picked up by her when he was too nervous to start making friends. He's slowly getting used to her unbridled energy when she gets excited – he used to be more than slightly terrified of her, so he’s made a lot of progress. He enjoys her enthusiasm and admires her proactive attitude.

Is also good friends with Nea, although the two of them don't end up talking very often; typically Meg is the one to ban the three of them together. Dwight wishes he had more to say to Nea, but nothing really comes to mind, other than their mutual friendship with Meg.

He's very intelligent, and an incredibly efficient worker, coping with stress better than perhaps anyone, despite his anxiety-ridden exterior. What confidence he lacks in his social skills, he makes up for in confidence in his work.

He finds Jake, who is on his course, incredibly fascinating and attractive, but he's also very intimidated by him, hardly able to get a word out when he's looking his way. Meg can always tell when Jake has so much as glanced at him, as he comes back to the flat still pink in the face, and he immediately begins gushing about it at the slightest prodding.

Jake: Mechanical Engineering

Doesn't talk about himself – or just much at all – but a little pressing from Laurie has revealed that he doesn't have a good relationship with his family. He didn't continue past that, but an insider's perspective shows that his parents haven't been great in the way of emotional support, and would much rather him be studying medicine or law. However, pursuing the degree he really wanted has been his first step out of his parents' grip, and as such, he cherishes every lecture.

He's a very solitary creature, doing everything on his own: his work, leisure, etc. Dwight sees him alone frequently and wants to walk over and talk to him, but doesn't know if he'd be bothering him. Jake, however, would be flattered by the company; he enjoys being alone to a large degree, but he's also slightly convinced that even if he did want to make friends, people wouldn't really want him around. He seems confident in himself, and in many ways he is, but he kicks himself for not being able to open up more.

He thinks Dwight is incredibly cute, not unaware of the way he flushes red when Jake gives him a smile, but is convinced not to talk to him because he also believes Dwight is terrified of him (and he's not wrong).

Nea: English

She says she takes English because she heard it would be easy, but she's secretly very passionate about it. She used to have a lot of problems making friends and keeping up a good relationship with her parents, who always saw her as strange and distant. As a result, she took up reading as a way of feeling at home.

Best friends with Meg, and very good friends with Dwight. Is roommates with Jake, but they rarely speak, both of them generally keeping to themselves. Nea is, however, acutely aware that Jake pays far more than she for the flat, and although curious, has never asked him where the money comes from.

She has a punk aesthetic, and seems to live up to it: she disappears frequently, and can typically be found skateboarding either at the skatepark or around town. But when she really seems to vanish, she's hanging out behind the Physics building, reading. She's afraid Meg has seen her here once – she looked up and to see her crossing the street just a little down the way. But Meg has never mentioned it, so maybe she she didn't recognize her.

Although they and Meg hang out all the time, Nea knows Dwight is still a bit apprehensive around her. She knows they don't have much to talk about, but Nea thinks he's a cute little twink, wishes he didn't feel so nervous all the time.

Spends a lunch every once in a while talking to Lisa, the Student Welfare Officer, as she struggles with some mild depression and needs space to vent. Lisa has gently recommended she see a therapist, but she refuses, saying that having Lisa just to listen is more than enough – though it's clear that she mostly just doesn't want her friends to find out when she's struggling, as well as denying there might actually be a problem. Her friends aren't in the dark, however. Dwight would ask but knows she wouldn't say, and even Meg, despite her rash, superficial tendencies, has seen the sullen look in Nea's eyes when things get bad.

Claudette: Medicine

A brilliant student and an even better friend, beloved by her professors and friends alike (Herman isn't apologetic about his favorites). Roommates with Laurie and Feng, next-door to Jake and Nea.

Although Jake and Nea are both quiet people, Claudette always says hello to both of them, and makes conversation whenever possible. Neither of them mind, both finding her a very pleasant person to have around, although both struggling to reciprocate her openness.

On some occasions, Claudette will seem to sense something is off with Nea, and the genuine concern in her eyes when she asks how she's doing has nearly convinced Nea to stop and talk to her properly. However, as acquaintances and nothing more, Nea tells herself not to get Claudette involved.

Often times overworks herself, foregoing her social life and sleep to study, and has to be brought down to earth once in a while by Feng and Laurie. Feng is good for talking about managing high expectations and health, and Laurie loves dragging her out when she obviously needs to take a step back from her work.

Spends all of her free time in Sally's office as her assistant. Sally enjoys having her around as a trainee, a helping hand, and as company.

Feng: Computer Science

Simultaneously cute, sassy, and hot-headed, Feng brings people in with a fiery, protective personality, keeps them interested with her intelligence and wit, but simultaneously pushes them away with her icy barriers. She finds it neigh-on impossible to really open up to people, Claudette being to only one to get her to talk about some of her deeper feelings, usually late at night after Claudette has been venting about stress, or Feng has just gotten off the phone with her imposing parents.

Although a lot of people would find her hobbies incredibly lame or nerdy, Feng is incredibly passionate about the things she chooses to care about, and doesn't stand for injustice of any kind, particularly in the case of her friends. She often has to remind Claudette that she doesn't need to live her life pleasing people.

As one of, if not the only, girl on her course, she gets a lot of unwanted attention from the guys in her lectures and around her building. Luckily, Feng is more than capable of taking care of herself, though she at one point nearly broke a man's arm when he wouldn't back off. However, Laurie has to remind her sometimes that there are security guards to take care of these things, because she doesn't want Feng to get into trouble over something that wasn't her fault; as much as they both hate it, Feng and Laurie agree it's easier to prove that a guy's arm is dislocated than it is to prove that she's been harassed. Laurie has told Feng that she should get Michael if anything is wrong, as he's frequently stationed right outside the Computer Science building, and Laurie has told him to keep a good eye on her.

Feng's parents have had incredibly high expectations of her for a long time, and this used to weigh on her heavily. Ever since she moved away from home, however, Feng seems undeterred by their pressure, simply choosing to hang up whenever they get toxic over the phone. When it comes to academic success, she seems more preoccupied by competing with herself than to compete with her peers, leading her to become both a high-achieving student and a reasonably well-balanced person – although she wishes she didn't have to turn against her parents, the people whom she knows love her most.

Laurie: Children's Nursing

Fiery and strong-spirited, but kind-hearted on nearly all occasions, Laurie is the ideal college friend. She's there until the bitter end, always available for moral support and motivational speeches.

She's great friends with just about everyone. She's one of the few people to occasionally jump into conversation with Jake or Nea, just because they looked like they could use the company. Jake is charmed by her initiative and passion, but is worn down quickly by her enthusiasm. Nea considers her a toned-down version of Meg.

As the sister of one of the scariest figures in the college, Laurie seems to have free reign of the place, always just a phone call away from getting someone dragged out of class or getting the keys into any building she fancies.

Although Laurie feels a bit like the queen of it all – she's got all the friends, the scary brother, her course is easy and interesting – she oftentimes feels like she's missing something. Dwight and Meg have each other; Quentin and David have each other; Claudette and Feng have each other – Laurie... well, she sort of has everyone, but she feels like she's missing that unique, intimate friendship that everyone else seems to find. She doesn't feel like there's anyone that she can tell everything to. If she only had one phone call before she was carted off to jail, she could call anyone, but there wouldn't be one incredibly obvious answer that completely outshines all of her other great friends. She thinks maybe she's spoiled or ridiculous for thinking these things, but she can't help the pang of jealousy when she hears Claudette and Feng having their heart-to-hearts for hours on end, knowing there's no one she feels she could open up to so purely.

Quentin: English

In every respect, a gentle spirit. He's quiet and compassionate, happiest when waist-deep in a good book.

He can be quite easily intimidated by others; his flatmate, David, used to really freak him out, but he's gotten to know him well over the months, and now considers him a close friend. David has actually helped him out a lot when Quentin has sunken in on himself, reminding him to live in the moment and find the joy and energy in everything around him. If he was being completely honest, he finds David incredibly kind and very attractive, and would very happily go out with him, but he's miserably aware that David is probably the most straight-seeming guy on the market.

Quentin finds himself sitting beside Meg and Nea during many lectures, and ends up exchanging ideas with Nea frequently. They have brilliant discussions, and he's asked her if she'd like to meet up sometime to talk further, but she always shrugs him off, suddenly very nonchalant about the literature, as if she hadn’t had that impassioned spark in her eyes just a moment prior. Quentin has a feeling that she's embarrassed to admit her interest in her own subject, but he's not sure why.

Since childhood, Quentin feels like he's come a long way in being able to interact with other people and make legitimate friendships. As such, he treasures every relationship he has, though he feels a long ways off from being as comfortable with who he is as he'd like. He's made progress, surely, but he still struggles with his self-esteem and confidence on a daily basis. Thankfully, David steps in to help him out all the time when Quentin is making ridiculous judgements on the basis of his insecurity. While David doesn't seem like the most perceptive or sensitive guy, Quentin knows that without his help and encouragement, he wouldn't be able to keep himself presentable for over a month. He just prays that he won't be quite so much of a mess by the time David inevitably leaves the college.

David: Criminology

David can be a bit perplexing at times; to strangers, he can be harsh and crude – he has said it was the only way to survive his hometown – but to those he actually knows, he's an incredibly kind, dependable person. When he makes a promise, it's never broken, and when his friend is in trouble, he will drop everything to help. Simultaneously, he's also rash and impulse-driven, following his heart above all else. Perhaps it's his rough edges and wild eyes and their vibrant contrast with his kind, earnest words that make him appear perhaps the most genuine person to walk the streets.

Similar to Meg, David really only came to college to play rugby, but found his course interesting and is enjoying his time here immensely. This is actually his second time being enrolled for the sake of just playing sports – the first time he was badly injured and ended up dropping out. This makes him two years older than Quentin and the other students.

David's course gives him some hell, and once in a while his confidence will take a real hit, but a quick pick-me-up from Quentin and he's back on his feet.

The first week of the academic year, Quentin got lost in the middle of town at night, his phone nearly dead. He called David, the only person in the city whose number he had, even though Quentin was terrified of him. Quentin sent him his location, and within twenty minutes of sitting in the cold, David came sprinting around the corner to find him, and walked him home. Ever since, David has felt strangely protective of Quentin, a feeling which baffles him immensely, but not one that he's ever denied.

#dbd #college au #what do you think?#no i didn't include freddy #dont @ me #wasn't sure about some of their majors

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markwatkinsconsumerguide · 4 years

Photo

Consumer Guide / No.100 / Singer Nina Clarke with Mark Watkins.

MW : Planet Of Women - what happened next?

NC : Well, as you know, there was a point where Planet of Women were really set to take off; we had a major publishing deal with Sony, signed by the same person, Charlie Pinder, who signed The Darkness, we played the Download festival twice to rave reviews, we were being regularly featured in Kerrang, were the first band to sing live on 6 Music (for Bruce Dickinson’s rock show) and were on tour with Thunder and then The Quireboys.

I think one of the main things that happened was that “Classic Rock” didn’t take off again the way the industry at one point expected. We were billing ourselves as a classic rock ‘Aerosmith meets The Supremes’ band, so I think the industry became nervous of pushing us.

In all honesty, it just kind of fizzled out. The big opportunities stopped coming, there were some we didn’t want to take (we were asked to be the featured band on T4 Sunday each week for example – it was something half of the band wanted to do and half didn’t so it was a difficult one, but I am glad we didn’t do it. It would definitely have made good watching for TV I am sure (!). Overall, I am not really interested in a reality TV car crash version of what we were; I want to be able to hold my head up high in public for one thing!

Probably, the final nail in the coffin was me becoming pregnant with my little girl, Isabella. I moved back to Solihull to be nearer my parents and then, despite intending to carry on, I think we all knew that the moment had passed.

I still keep in touch with everyone from the band (and I am now married to the drummer, Martin – which is funny because we weren’t all that close when I was in the band; we got to know each other many years later). Jolene lives not too far from me in The Midlands with her family and Jade and I chat regularly on social media. Pete, the guitarist, comes over every now and then and Jason the bass player’s wife, Trudi, who is a phenomenal band live photographer, has taken photos for me several times (one of her photos of my wedding is on my wall in my lounge!).

I have been very active musically since Planet Of Women (other than under lockdown!). I have travelled the world singing with my Abba Tribute Band, 21st Century Abba, and The Tarantinos (places including Mauritius, India, Libya), have albums of library music published (songs used for Heart FM, Friends on Comedy Central, Coventry University) and done a lot of session work too (including duetting a few times with Jamie Oliver, the celebrity chef).

Jade still performs mainly within London collaborating with fantastic musicians and still sounding great. I had the real pleasure of singing backing vocals for her at a jazz festival in Corsica twice, which was wonderful and just like old times (Pete and Martin were also there). Jade still has her phenomenal voice; she has such a unique style. She has been entertaining us all with live performances from home under lockdown. I owe Jade a lot; she taught me how to (as Wayne’s World fans would say) ‘wail’! I honestly wouldn’t be where I am today without learning from her.

Pete still writes songs constantly and his library music is used all over the world. We have collaborated on many songs together (as has Jade and Pete). Pete is a brilliant songwriter – he taught me a lot about how to create a good song and whilst I now mainly collaborate with other people, I always love working with Pete.

Jolene is the social media queen; she honestly should write a book from her blogs – they always make me laugh. She is the one pushing us to do a one-off Planet Of Women reunion gig for old times sake, which would be great fun.

Jason, the bass player, is an avid music fan and he and Trudi travel the UK and Europe to attend festivals and watch bands. Jason has recently picked up his bass again and started playing live, which is great to see.

Russ was the original drummer and he now is the drummer for Uriah Heap, touring the world.

Magic (Martin) the later drummer got the best deal of course, because he married me (ha ha ha... he will kill me if he reads this!). Martin has toured with Bewitched, The Bay City Rollers, Jo Harman and also tours with me with The Tarantinos and 21st Century Abba. He is also a lecturer at BIMM Institute Birmingham and does a lot of session work in our studio at home too. He is endorsed by so many brands (Sonor, Paiste for example) and is such a talented, versatile drummer.

MW : Tell me about backing Graham Bonnet...

NC : Ah, he was such a lovely man, he really was. Very humble and kind. I was very nervous to meet him because he was a real rock legend. Even though Rainbow were big before my time, I grew up listening to an Ultimate Rock Songs album which I played to death, and ‘Since You’ve Been Gone’ was one of my all-time favourite songs.

Graham was so friendly when we met him; he really put us at ease and was fun to hang around with after the show too. I still have the caricature picture he signed for me saying I did a great job. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt to be singing backing vocals for him – something I will never forget!

MW : Do you have any favourite songs of Graham's?

NC : It has to be ‘Since You’ve Been Gone’ from 1979 – it’s an all-time classic! I really enjoyed ‘Night Games’ too; a song originally from 1981 that I hadn’t known until working with Graham.

MW : Tell me about your ABBA covers band...

NC : I have always been a huge Abba fan, in fact I think I may have been named after the 1970s Abba song ‘Nina, Pretty Ballerina’ (I always remember my uncle singing it to me). My nan had the Super Trouper album (released in 1980) and I used to play it every time I went to her house. I felt a connection to Agnetha on account of us both having naturally long blonde hair and I idolised the band.

Once I moved back to Solihull, to have my babies, I still wanted to be involved with live music and also needed Part Time work. I saw an advert for an Abba tribute band in The Stage and auditioned. I was very proud to get the part!

Since then, I have switched Abba bands a few times. My Abba tribute band now, 21st Century Abba, was only set up last year by myself and Marcus, who was the Bjorn with me in a past Abba tribute band. In our previous Abba tribute bands we won the UK’s No.1 Abba tribute band at the National Tribute Awards by the Agents Association GB every year from 2013-2018.

The only thing was that the keys weren’t live and the harmonies were on track, which always made us feel like a second rate band. So we set up on our own with a live keys player and myself and Indrija, who plays Frida, sing all the harmonies as Abba sang them, and it feels like we have raised our game. It's great fun – we travel all over the world (I have been to India, Mauritius, Libya to name but a few places).

I honestly feel so lucky to be doing this as a job.

MW : What covers are most requested by your ABBA fans?

NC : ‘Dancing Queen’ is the main song that people request - I don’t think we would be forgiven if we didn’t play that song in our set! Although perhaps that is because we pretend to finish the show and then it’s our big encore, so people start cheering for it when we go off stage.

Honestly, it is so hard because there were just so many huge Abba hits and it really is impossible to fit them all into every show! We do try to ensure for a private booking that we play that person’s favourite song though.

MW : List in order of preference your Top 5 Tarantino films, and say something about your No.1 choice…

NC :

5 Inglourious B*stards (2009)

4 Jackie Brown (1997)

3 Reservoir Dogs (1992)

2 Kill Bill, Volumes 1 & 2 (2003 & 2004)

1 Pulp Fiction (1994)

Wow, this is a difficult question! I love them all!

Pulp Fiction has been my all-time favourite since university – I had posters of John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson on the wall. It is such a clever film – the chronology of it is all over the place but it all ties together at the end – brilliant. I just fell in love with the way Tarantino, unlike any other film, adds detailed chat that is not necessary to the story of the film – the fact that assassins could be casually discussing cheeseburgers on the job is both hilarious and disturbing.

MW : Do you sing in the shower?! What songs?!

NC : Of course! The acoustics are fab!! I have always sung ‘Andante, Andante’, the Abba song from the Super Trouper album (it's actually a Frida song so shh!). It was always one of my favourite songs off the album and nobody had ever heard of it until Mamma Mia 2 came along recently. I was so happy that finally other people were also raving about the song!

I also sing ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline – a huge 1960s country hit. it was one of the first songs I had to learn in a function band I was in when I first moved to London.

MW : What was the last good book you read (or are reading)?

NC : I am a sucker for a good psychological thriller. Currently reading ‘Sleep’ by C.L. Taylor which I can’t put down (I am a bit of a bookworm!). Only a few weeks ago I read ‘1984′ by George Orwell; I knew so much about it, even watched the film, but hadn’t actually ever read it. Absolutely brilliant – so many films and books today have been influenced by George Orwell; fantastic!

MW : Any celebrities you keep in touch with, or are on your radar?

NC : Martin (my husband) was drumming for Bewitched for a while, and one of the twins, Keavy, came to our wedding. Dennis Stratton (of Iron Maiden) was also at our wedding as a joint Best Man too (along with Knuckles from The Tarantinos). It's funny because I don’t see them as celebrities; they are genuinely nice people and we consider them friends.

A few years ago, I was presenting The Black Country Rock Show for Guitarist TV and had the pleasure of interviewing people like Tony Clarkin (Magnum – see You Tube for the outtakes of our interview – we couldn’t stop laughing!), Brian Tatler (Diamond Head) and Al Atkins (Judas Priest). It was great fun and as part of that, I sang on an album, soon to be released. I sang lead on my version of ‘Still Got The Blues’ by Gary Moore, with Dennis Stratton on guitar, Harry from Thunder on drums, Nick from Magnum on Bass and Mike De Jaeger, my co-presenter on the show also on guitar. It was recorded at Mad Hat Studios in The Midlands and was great fun.

Luke from Thunder - at first I kept in contact with and he offered to write together on some songs, but, and I really regret this now, this offer came just as I had had my first child and I never did anything about it!

There was also talk of Planet Of Women doing backing vocals for The Quireboys again at their big shows in September 2020, although due to Covid 19, it looks like this now won’t happen, which is a real shame.

MW : What about meeting Jamie Oliver?

NC : The Jamie Oliver thing started when I met a music producer, Leigh Haggerwood, when I was performing a pub gig in London years ago. He said he liked my voice and then called me out of the blue to ask if I could do a piece of session work for him which I then found out was a duet with Jamie Oliver to be performed when he was the featured chef at The Good Food Show at the NEC (you had to pay extra for his show, which was in a separate auditorium, and he cooked to the song). Jamie was a drummer before he became a famous chef (funnily enough the bass player in The Tarantinos, Andy Tolman, was the bass player in their band) and so he wanted to incorporate music into his show.

The first song was a cover of Nelly’s ‘Hot In Here’ and was called ‘Cold Out There’. My main line was ‘I just love this soup, it really makes me hoooorrrrrnyyyyy’!! The following year I was asked to sing the duet again, and this time the song was about fish stew, and the main line was ‘I Wanna Fish Stew’. Yes, it was intended to be rude! The funniest thing was Leigh and Jamie sniggering like school kids while writing lines and then asking me to sing them. Jamie did a spoof You Tube video using the song (look it up!) and then for his 40th birthday the staff of all his restaurants lined the streets of London cheering him, and there was a gospel choir singing a gospel version of our song!

Around that time, I went to several of Jamie’s parties, both at his home and in local pubs. I went to a barbecue at his country home when they had only just bought it (which was filmed for The Naked Chef). I really got on well with his wife, Jules – she was so friendly and down to earth. And Jamie was just one of the lads – really good fun. I sang at Jules’ 30th birthday party too which was great fun.

I do have signed recipe books by Jamie, and I genuinely do love his recipes – they are perfect for me – really lovely food but not too posh or fiddly that you end up either failing or feeling hungry after!

He really is a very talented chef and a really good guy.

MW : How good are you at Maths?

NC : Ha Ha! This may sound strange, given I am a singer, but I actually have a 1st class Mathematics and Business Studies degree from Warwick University, and I am also a qualified chartered Accountant!

I was always very studious at school and even though I loved singing, I was too shy to really push myself. It was only when I went to university, joined a gospel choir (which I ended up running in my third year) and then set up a band that I started to really enjoy performing live. My first band, The Sally Gardens, were terrible when we first started out! We were all new to performing and our songs were very average. However, three years later (and a few changes of members) and I think we were really putting out some great songs. I was performing more and more solos with the gospel choir and I realised that I wanted to carry on singing even when I moved into the “Real World”.

I took an Auditing (Accounting) job in London mainly so I could be in the centre of London, and try to get into the music scene. I had all sorts of adventures before hooking up with Jade in Planet of Women.

After moving back to Solihull, I started working for Hilton Hotels in Finance (I am the main finance person for several hotels). People find it really strange that I have two very different, equally important jobs, but I think it is the perfect mix. I get the perfect balance between brain work and creativity, and I genuinely get to earn money from my two passions!

MW : What are you most looking forward to doing once ALL the Coronavirus restrictions are lifted?

NC : Of course, it has to be performing. We were lucky enough to do a theatre show on 14th March 2020, just before lockdown, but this now seems a lifetime ago! All of our festivals have been pushed back to next year and hopefully our dates abroad will get rebooked next year too. The very sad thing is that some of the venues that we were really enjoying working with have unfortunately had to close, which is really upsetting. I do hope that the government urgently helps venues so that they aren’t forced to close. I miss my Abba and Tarantino's families!

I will miss all the time I have had writing songs and doing session work though – it has been great to get really creative with writing. I have albums published with Justin Bryant through BMG (Teen Pop Sensation Deep East Music) and , as I touched on earlier, our songs were used to advertise Friends (yes, the comedy series with Rachel, Ross and Joey), Heart FM and Coventry University to name but a few, plus I am signed to Long Lunch Music in a collaboration called Sequoia (with Chris Garfield from Jimmy James and the Vagabonds and Marcus Tate from 21st Century Abba).

We recently filmed a video (‘Where’s This Thing Going’ Sequoia – on You Tube) for one of our songs. The video was filmed under lockdown, which was great fun (although it's always embarrassing watching yourself on screen!).

MW : What have you learned most about yourself during lockdown?

NC : Hmm... at first I learned that I don’t have to rush around; that there is so much to enjoy right in front of my nose…the garden, my neighbours, chilling with my children (Izzy and Jack) and my husband. However, I must say, after three months, I started to get a bit stir-crazy….I do think I am built to work…if you know the famous poem, I am a Saturday’s child so I work hard for a living!

MW : Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?

NC : Ooh... great question! I would still love to be performing live (when it's good there is nothing like it) and travelling the world (never gets boring). I would also like to be writing more with my fabulous co-writers. The joy of getting the quarterly email from PRS (Performing Rights Society) to see where your songs have been used just never gets old.

MW : How can we keep in touch?

NC : I keep Facebook and Instagram private, but you can always reach me via my band websites :

www.21stcenturyabba.co.uk

www.thetarantinos.com

www.sessionvocals.co.uk

or the Facebook / Instagram sites :

https://www.facebook.com/21stcenturyabba/

https://www.facebook.com/TheTarantinoscom/

https://www.instagram.com/21stcenturyabba/

https://www.instagram.com/thetarantinosofficial/

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idiopath-fic-smile · 7 years

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you say your wish fulfillment is loaning out your awesome parents can you talk about how your parents are awesome? (i'm a new parent so i need to knowww)

Aw congrats on your baby!

It’s a little hard for me to verbalize just what about theirparenting was (and is) so good, because it’s the world I’ve always known andsometimes their genius is only visible to me when I hear horror stories aboutother people’s parents and think anew, holy moly did I luck out.

A few years ago, my mom told me, “Yeah, so one of myco-workers asked me about my plans this weekend and I told her, ‘I’m going on atrip with my family!’ and she said, ‘Haha, I’m so sorry.’” My mom, recounting thisstory, made a disgusted, disbelieving face. Why would a random acquaintanceassume my mom didn’t like her own children? Why would this feel like an okaything to say out loud, even jokingly? To my mom’s way of thinking, if you raise people you don’t like, that says a lot more about you than it does about them.

I think this is a lot of it in a nutshell. “Of course I likemy children. Of course I respect them. Of course I want to spend time with them.”

I mean, growing up, there were rules, and those rules wereconsistent, and breaking those rules had clear, immediate consequences. Butwhen a little kid realizes, “Oh, these are the boundaries and the boundaries don’tchange,” they (at least my brother and me) learn pretty fast that there’s nopoint testing it. (My parents were always on the same page about stuff, too. Itwas eerie. Even now, if I ask them for advice and they start toparent-lecture, they speak in echoes of each other.)

They didn’t hit us. They never really yelled. Like, I didn’tjust learn “don’t hit your brother,” I learned by example that hitting wasnever okay. I learned by example that there is no age where you are allowed tojust lose your shit and try to hurt someone’s feelings out of anger. They practiced whatthey preached, you know? (And the boundaries thing goes both ways, BTW: Iremember as a teenager how horrified my mom was to learn that my friend’s momsometimes searched my friend’s room and read her diary.)

Also, they’ve always listened to us. They spent a lot oftime with us (especially my mom; we were fortunate enough to be in a placefinancially where she could be a stay-at-home mom, although I get that noteverybody is). They showed interest in what we were interested in. They stilldo.

My parents don’t say, “Ugh, what’s this modern music?” Theydon’t try performatively to be cool but they give our favorite bands a chance.They like Father John Misty, Feist, Saint Seneca, Haim. They’re open tolearning new things. When we were growing up, my mom wasn’t sure if she wantedus watching The Simpsons, so she watched a few episodes, “and you know, at theend of the day, it’s a show about a family that loves each other.”

My dad was really into basketball as a kid—he was on hishigh school team and went to basketball camp every summer. When he had babies,he dreamed of shooting hoops with us. We turned out to be a pair of uncoordinated,squishy indoor kids. My dad revised his dreams. He praised us for our grades,and the achievements that mattered to us.

My family is almost ridiculously supportive. They went toall my high school plays and youth community theatre performances. Theyencouraged all my hobbies. When I was in high school, my dad was so proud of mywriting that he would sometimes link his co-workers to my Livejournal.(Note for future parents: uh, you don’t have to do that.)

My parents tried to keep information age-appropriate butthey never really talked down to us. I learned the words “penis” and “vagina”the first time I was old enough to ask what those parts were; my mom didn’tsee the point in goofy euphemisms because she didn’t see anything shamefulabout the human body. (We didn’t have “the talk” so much as we had a series oftalks, which happened any time I asked a question about bodies or sex.) (My momalso volunteer-taught an extremely comprehensive, sex-positive, LGBTQ-friendlysex ed program through our church, although she taught it the year after I’dgone through it because she thought it might be weird to have me in her class.)

When I was thirteen, I told my parents I needed to be intherapy, and so they put me in therapy, even though it was circa 2000 andnobody knew anything about mental health (that’s an exaggeration, but thepublic at large tended to be pretty misinformed.)

Also, crucially, they’ve always been pretty fun. They’reboth willing to laugh at themselves. They crack each other up. Telling funnystories at the dinner table (we ate dinner together every night dad wasn’tworking late) was, and still is, a central part of hanging out with my family.We rag on each other but we’re also very affectionate—we’re liberal with praise,and we’re open about how much we care about each other. When I would complainabout bullies, my dad’s response was to mock them mercilessly behind theirbacks. I learned at a young age that ideally you use humor to make people feelbetter, not worse.

My dad plays guitar, banjo, mandolin, and piano, and my momsings. When I was growing up, they were in a local band, along with somefriends. My mom weaves cloth as a hobby. My dad does woodworking, and he wrotea novel when I was in high school. They keep up on current events and theythink critically about stuff. My mom went to the Women’s March this January,and she was impressed by the trans-inclusive signs she saw.

I’ve always felt like, if I have a problem, I can go to my momand dad. (I remember my mom saying, about any kid’s show or movie where thekids learn some fantastical, dangerous secret, “Where are the adults? Whyaren’t they telling their parents about this?” which probably had a direct influenceon how the Eponine subplot is resolved in W.A.R. if I’m honest. Enjolras goesto his parents because it is absolutely what I would’ve done.)

My upbringing wasn’t perfect; nobody’s is, that’s justinevitable. But my parents created a place that was stable, loving, respectful,and fun. Also, even during most my obnoxious years, I always got the impressionthey liked me.

Hope that helps!

#Anonymous

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pubtheatres1 · 5 years

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THE NINETY-NINE POINT NINE by Alex Charing Hen and Chickens Theatre, N1, 28 & 29 March 2019 ‘ … ticks so many boxes for a fantastic intelligent comedy spoof focusing on social commentaries and political environments’ ★★★★ The Hen and Chickens pub Theatre it is one of the easiest venues to find that I have been to. A nicely laid out upstairs theatre with reasonably comfortable seats. The staff I spoke to were very friendly and helpful. This madcap 50 minutes of informative chaos is a masquerade for an extremely clever, well written satirical view on all things slightly topical and controversial. Dr Larry Fishbourne leads the performance in the style of a lecture with the help of his colleague Petra Parquor (PhD pending). Brexit makes a scheduled appearance as expected on the day we were set to leave. Charing certainly has a clearer outlook on the politicians’ future than the politicians had on our exit from the EU. Their demise sounds rather brutal though with the mention of one of the high-profile MPs being skinned. Trump’s outdated and non-pc opinions pop up in the form of life like a cardboard mask. Although on this occasion Ivana wasn't by his side. Chojnacki quirky designed stage encompassed all the topics covered within the lecture in simple but effective cardboard cut outs. The washing line hall of famous politicians was an excellent addition. Both actors each had a box of selected props next to them which were pulled out as required. Ranging from a pillow sized bag of crunchy snacks to a Gazza face mask. With so many unexpected people making quick appearances it's impossible to mention them all. However, they do add some great comedy one-liners. As a fan of the "Goodies" in the 1970s, there are similarities to Charing writing style. One of which is a haphazardly choreographed dance routine at the end. It ticks so many boxes for a fantastic intelligent comedy spoof focusing on social commentaries and political environments. For this style of comedy to work as well as it does, Charing and Chojnacki must have a close working relationship and rapport. Cast Gabriella Chojnacki Alex Charing Daniel Magid Writer-Alex Charing Set designer-Gabriella Chojnacki Co-Directors-Gabriella and Alex. Photos credit-Rikesh Dattini www.cowjuice.org.uk Hen and Chickens Theatre Islington, St-Pauls Road, N1 2NA. Reviewer Elaine Chapman is an English Graduate from Winchester University. By day a mother and business owner. By night an avid theatre goer enjoying the world of reviewing theatre and films from an audience perspective.

#Ninety-Nine Point Nine Cow Juice Theatre Hen and Chickens Theatre Review

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textales · 7 years

Text

“The Kid is Hot Tonight.”

One of my best friends in Junior High was a girl named Sam. Her mom was the first female Top-40 Disk Jockey in Montana, and the reason I got into the radio business.

Back then AM still ruled the air – even if it was in mono and all crackly. The FM band was obscure - saved for nerdy technocrats who smoked pipe tobacco and hung out at the library…or worse, Radio Shack! Even though it was in stereo and superior in sound quality, FM was not yet as popular as AM. Most FM stations ran in automation, playing boring lectures from some college, or “beautiful music” suitable for any elevator. AM was fun and live and fantastically phenomenal. The kind of radio that came standard in every car, AM was the real deal. And Wendi Carpenter rocked afternoon drive on 1450 KQDI, entertaining countless central Montana listeners hungry for anything other than country.

Most days after school, Sam and I would stop at “the station” while her mother was on the air, to scoop-up free records and kill a little time hanging out with the other DJs.

“Early Adopters”

Record labels sent music to radio DJs everywhere. Even stations in places like Montana were great for launching new artists…and hungry programmers looking to make their mark would take the suggestions of record reps by adding new songs to the playlist. If the new song sold more than 500,000 units, those “early adopter” radio DJs would get their name and the station call-letters engraved on a plaque with a gold record, mounted in a fancy frame to hang as a brag piece.

One breezy afternoon in the early eighties, Sam and I were hanging out at KQDI when the Music Director told us “This band will never go anywhere,” and carelessly flipped a 12” vinyl record at me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking – but who cares if he was, it was cool to have a first pressing of a record with a stamp that said: “Promotional Use Only – Not for Resale.”

Little did we know in just a few months that Loverboy would become a big deal, and soon I’d be making a trip with my neighbor to see them play live.

“Working for the Weekend”

As neighbors go, Don was the coolest guy on the block. Not only did he have two of the greatest classic cars ever built (a red and black Chevy Chevelle AND a pretty blue Shelby Mustang 350 GT), but he was also a huge music fan with the biggest record collection and the nicest stereo on the North Side. His wife Judy was stunningly pretty and they were a model couple, making all the right choices like buying a home and saving for retirement starting in their early 20s.

Don was a bit of a purist when it came to music. He had strong opinions about music videos that played on the new cable channel called MTV…he found most of them fake and cheesy - he just wanted to see the musicians play. He also preferred vinyl LP records to the synthetic sounds of the new Compact Disks which were just barely making their way onto the scene.

I didn’t expect Don to give a shit about Loverboy – they were hardly a “real” rock band like Foreigner or Boston or Journey – so I was surprised when he invited me to go see them when they came to a college town nearby.

Because I was just 17 we had to promise my dad that Don would make sure I’d behave. Oh sure, I assumed Don would sneak a beer or two my way (and there’d be no need to bother my father with that detail!) but I was stopped like a deer in the headlights when he asked if I would mind if he smoked a joint.

At that moment I learned that he and Judy smoked pot. It didn’t bother me that he might want to imbibe in what has been considered essential for almost any concert-goer since the 1960s. What bothered me was the fact that I hadn’t even thought about it.

By no means did I think less of them for this – hell, lots of people smoke pot – I just felt like a fool for being so incredibly naïve for not even considering it.

Now that I look back, I wonder if there were other secrets. What else didn’t I know?

“The Feedlot” served gargantuan sub-style sandwiches using whole loaves of bread. I worked there for a stint between radio gigs. As high-school jobs go, this was so much better than actually having to make the stuff - I just delivered it using one of two company cars….a 1978 Chevy Chevette or a brand-new 1981 Mercury Lynx. I got paid to drive around? How cool was that?!

The manager thought it was cute that some of the regular customers would specifically request me as their delivery person – they wanted “the cute blond one” and she obliged.

Two big burly truck-driver guys who lived on Bootlegger Trail were particularly fond of me. I can’t remember their names, but they were always having parties and seemed so very happy and friendly. They’d invite me to stick around for a beer or a Coke. I would routinely turn them down - I had to get back to the Feedlot. I was on the clock after all, and my employer should get full value for the $3.35 an hour she was paying me.

Although they were “old” and lived in a trailer, (they were maybe in their twenties, it was a double-wide with full skirting and a tip-out), they were clean and smelled good and were always so very nice. They paid by check (everywhere still took checks back then), and they tipped well – very well, in fact. The tip for a five minute drive to deliver a sandwich in a paper bag was more than I made in an hour on minimum wage. My goodness, they were generous.

I remember their checks were so weird – not the blue or yellow “safety paper” most people got for free with their account at Northwestern Bank – theirs were “personalized” – printed with the Strawberry Shortcake cartoon character.

Strawberry Shortcake? WTH? That seemed kind of strange. And I remember how they would say “Bye” with an unusual inflection. It made no sense at the time because I didn’t realize they were dropping heavy hints and hitting on me. Hmmm…maybe they knew I was gay – I know I sure didn’t. And what else didn’t I know?

Hindsight is 20/20…and looking back I realize there were so many other times that I was so very oblivious. Like when I would surprise guys who were “entertaining” in their rooms at the all-male barracks on Malmstrom Air Force Base. This was a decade before “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” made being gay in the armed forces passable.

“Oh, duh, THAT’s what they were doing!” NO WONDER it took them so long to answer the door. You’d think they’d be expecting me – although the wait-time on a sandwich is hardly that of a pizza. Maybe they wanted to be interrupted?

Huh. What else didn’t I know?

Naiveté has its place, mostly to serve and protect the innocent. Although I usually got A’s and I considered myself fairly witty and articulate, I was completely naïve. I was guilty of being “wholesome,” and my selective attention wasn’t at all finely tuned. Or, on the other hand, my selective attention WAS finely tuned, with a filter added to keep out the unsavory thoughts I was consciously trying to avoid.

In the early 1980s a new disease called AIDS was killing everyone in its path. However devastating, this “gay plague” was an epidemic confined to places far away, where homosexuals congregated in bars and bath houses and did unspeakable things in the dark. Although gay men in big cities were dropping like flies, Montana was safe. We didn’t have “those people,” and those places where unthinkable things occurred didn’t exist in Big Sky Country.

I got why people were scared shitless, and a majority equated being gay and having AIDS as an automatic given. Misconceptions, myths and hysteria were rampant. Victims were treated like lepers. Some feared you could get AIDS simply by being close to someone or kissing or hugging them.

Most who had this opinion were essentially just naïve and innocent. But the gleefully, willfully ignorant were the most troubling - often expressing their fear as “god’s wrath.” Not surprisingly, many in this crowd also refused to believe Liberace was gay – go figure.

Hall & Oates sang: “Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid” and Ronald Reagan took the hint. The President said absolutely nothing about AIDS until 1987, near the end of his second term and years after his friend Rock Hudson had died from the disease. At that point in the U.S., over 36,000 people were diagnosed with AIDS and over 26,000 people had died from it. Montana was barely a bleep on the radar and it was still easy enough for the general public (and even the medical community) to avoid the issue for years. “Not in my backyard” was a common sentiment.

Throughout most of the 80s and 90s nobody in Montana knew anyone with HIV or AIDS and if they did they wouldn’t tell you for fear of being shunned from their church or social group…or worse, being fired from their job or attacked by the gleefully, willfully ignorant. Even doctors were dumb – my stepmother had a nurse friend who worked for a MD who threatened to fire her because her son had AIDS.

For the longest time I was able to say “not a single person in my friends and family circle has been affected by AIDS.” This was remarkable given that I had moved to a “real city” and was an open member of the very community in crisis hit hardest by the epidemic.

But hardly better than the gleefully, willfully ignorant, I had a self-righteous, cavalier attitude and figured I knew all I needed to know. I wore my “garbage bags” and knew to never get in a situation of risk. “I’ll just keep myself safe and sanitized and won’t have to learn anything about this unsavory thing.” Even though I gave money to various AIDS and HIV charities, I separated myself from “those people” and wore a protective coating to prevent me from getting too close. I still had tons of fun, knowing the rubber sheath would keep me safe, but I wouldn’t let love in or out…not in any way. Figuratively or literally…emotionally or physically. “Not in my backyard.”

My personal “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” approach on HIV and AIDS worked until 1990 when my roommate Robert tested positive, and I was forced to pull my head out of the sand. I was not going to let myself become a victim of fear and ignorance, so I told myself I best learn about this shit and what to do about it. I loved Robert and wanted to do everything I could to keep him alive. My self-righteous stance had softened.

What else didn’t I know? I discovered having an open mind and open dialog gave me the courage to reach out to people I’d been shutting out, including my high-school best friend Ross. My buddy, Buddy, with whom I had a one night encounter in college, had come out of the closet and announced his status, and others I knew were starting to surface. Although I was no longer able to say “Nobody in my life is affected by AIDS,” I was happy to kill that willful ignorance that was getting in my way of loving people. I let curiosity have a place at the table, right next to security. I started asking more questions. Not that I became obsessed, I just wanted to stop being scared to death. I refused to let hate and fear win over love and understanding.

It was a sad story two decades later when I learned that Don and Judy both died from AIDS. I heard he got it by a blood transfusion and unknowingly infected his wife. They died at home, both frail shadows of their once vibrant selves. Many friends and family volunteered with home hospice, trying to make the torture tolerable. They left behind two teenage kids…I can only imagine the emotional torture they had to endure with not one but both parents dying, made worse by bullying school kids mocking and making fun.

Somehow it was supposed to make it more palatable that the source of the infection was not self-induced but completely beyond their control. “Good lord, it’s not like they got this by having sex or doing drugs!” They were innocent and deserved no shame or blame.

Yet there was a shroud of secrecy. Nobody was supposed to know. If Don got AIDS from a blood transfusion beyond anyone’s control, why all the shame and silent treatment? What else didn’t I know? And why do I care? Am I as bad as those so called Christians who want so badly to assign blame and often end-up showering the victim in shame? I can hear them now: “You reap what you sow.“ “Play with fire and get burned.” Blah blah blah.

It was easy for me to have such a callous curiosity from a big city thousands of miles away. My job or reputation wasn’t at stake and my life wasn’t under the sharp scrutiny of the terrified in a small town where even just talking about sex was taboo.

Don wasn’t naïve and clueless, was he? Even though he was straight and a “guy’s guy,” I had no difficulty imagining a “what if” scenario. WHAT IF he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time? WHAT IF at a concert in Seattle or Calgary he smoked a little too much pot and drank too much? Maybe he stumbled into the wrong crowd who took advantage of his innocence, or worse, if he was coerced into something he didn’t want to do and by then it was too late? WHAT IF that was me instead of Don?

I only recently learned that in his dying days Don sequestered himself to a room in his garage in a self-induced quarantine. I wish I had been around to ask why….was it to protect himself from the outside world or it from him? And I’d like to think I would have had the guts to face my own fear and spend time with him talking about classic cars and music. But as much as I want to figure it out, I’ll have to be satisfied with a “You’ll never know” when asking “What else didn’t I know?”

It happened almost overnight: FM became the preferred band for radio listeners. The sound quality was infinitely better and in stereo, after all. And by the ‘90s every car had an FM radio that came standard from the factory at no additional cost. Program directors started putting more time and attention to programming their FM stations, and the AM signals were the ones left for automation and a disintegrating audience share.

In the next decade medical science had revolutionized treatment making HIV something people live with by taking just a pill a day. And now Prep offers what is essentially a vaccine against HIV.

It would be great if we could restore humans like we restore cars. It would be great to have some of those classics back in our lives. And it’s so unfortunate that so many who passed were essentially victims of bad timing – I’m fairly certain they’d still be alive if they got their HIV in this current era.

Ross, Robert, Buddy, Don and Judy. It didn’t matter how they got AIDS and died….they were all victims. Unfortunately, none of them got a gold record to hang on their wall for being “early adopters.”

What else didn’t I know? Too much to write…but one thing I did eventually figure out: whether the injection was by needle or by penis, knowing how it happened didn’t make the pain and suffering any easier for anyone.

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247krp · 7 years

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— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Chase Park, spotted prancing about in the Northwest Side. I remember seeing him with The Nobodies back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say eccentric and frivolous? Apparently now he spends time as PHD student and an assistant lecturer in occult studies, and keeps skeletons buried at Bukdong Apartments, 601. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Starmye; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

chase never bothered with his clique’s rep, which was practically nonexistent to begin with. though indifference did not mean ignorance; the quirky male was well-aware of how fellow students viewed them - the nobodies. people from mundane families with lives that were truly nothing to write home about. until of course the scandal with capital s which had chase move away from his rather indifferent, cheerful and carefree attitude for which he was known within the school halls, towards a more serious disposition ( albeit fleetingly ). reason? cha sumin. the girl he called his witch affectionately, who was perhaps the only earthly attachment chase cared to think about on his off day. the two were always joined at the hip and if they weren’t, chase and sumin weren’t too far removed from each other considering their natural instinct to always be pulled in by the other. though, sumin was not the only person chase was involved with. in fact, chase involved himself with many people ( sometimes simultaneously ). enough to earn himself the name starmye - mr. enlightenment; the charismatic guy with the lopsided smile who sometimes uttered incoherent sentences, made that dreamy impression and followed his intuition even when it lead him into trouble. starmye was no timid personality, by far, and despite the harsh whispers about his appearance or his affinity with satanic practices, chase was a ball of light, floating through cheongnam without a care - and perhaps that was his problem. care too much and you become anxious, care too little and you become detached, not only from your own emotions, but those of others around you. so, the frivolous male hurt his little daydreamer. he did feel guilty about that though. did he?

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

perhaps chase park was the one person who changed the least after high school period was over, maybe because his personality had always been quite stable. chase had never been discontent with the person he was, and although he’s made some mistakes in his student life, he’s learned to live with those and accept that, no matter how spiritual he may get, he’s still a faulty, earthly human being. especially the drug addiction which he suffered from as a teenager and from which he has recovered for several years now managed to ground him considerably. he is still a guy with his head in the clouds, a whimsical and selfish person, but he is now more aware of other people’s feelings. however, awareness does not indicate action and he is adamant to never change to adjust to someone else’s emotions or feelings. the odd guy is his own person, and quite self-reliant. chase remains opportunistic and devious; a person who only values the emotions from those he cares about. he has embraced gossip girl’s alias for him, feels flattered by it and uses it for his palm-reading business. in his day to day life, chase teaches at snu and works on completing his phd in his free time. though, he remains someone who wishes to seek his own definition of nirvana and lives life in the present, uncaring about the repercussions for the future.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

“tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe”

they were a bunch of pretenders. an average middle-class family like any other, getting by on an equally average salary from a car salesman barely meeting his targets and a businesswoman only in name, running her online lingerie store with a small quota of customers. they had a son, as had been expected of them by proper korean grandparents with more say in their family life than they themselves did. as was custom in korean society. that son received a less than customary name but his expected arrival after years of failed pregnancies more than made up for that little mishap. chase was dressed in little blue and white striped button down shirts and similarly coloured mini jeans with neat little shoes because that was proper, and god forbid if the park family were seen as anything else than proper. the boy’s dress did not change as he grow older either. his hair, now grown longer, merely added to the snobby look with a neat parting. the boy’s mother wore pencil skirts and blazers to work, which was essentially a tiny office space in their small apartment right above the car dealer his father worked for. keeping up appearances, was the family’s long-lived motto. but as chase’s stiff-backed mother kissed her husband goodbye while gazing into hollowed eyes that revealed more exhaustion than affection, chase still considered himself lucky. his parents, despite living dull lives with run-down routines, loved each other - and chase park was infinitely loved by them combined.

"and so being young and dipped in folly, i fell in love with melancholy” ( edgar allan poe )

in the midst of all the pretense, chase went to school and then some. in order to fit in with the upper class families, who had pretenders of their own, chase was required to entertain the idea of after school class at an english academy, for which he was eventually enrolled. reluctance stressed the boy until one particular class sparked his interest. the boy had never truly had interests of his own, merely content to follow in his father’s footsteps. practically a carbon copy of his parent, chase sat still in the one class which told stories of hecate and asteria, hades and cerberus and the boy found himself indulging in mythologies of the world. somewhat educated in the english language, chase embarked on an adventure through the iliad and beyond. his fondness of greek mythology stretched to a fondness of mythology in general, in particular celtic myth where fairy lovers enchanted the boy into reading on rituals and exploring the existence of witches. history explained to him brutal hunts of real-life witches, who more often than not were fake or pretenders. fairies give magic to people, the books read; and fairies are in league with the devil. needless to say, chase found himself intrigued with the fantastical and upon finding witchcraft and its associated with demons, the boy was sold to a future in the occult.

“in order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present” ( francis bacon )

sure enough, the prim and proper son of the parks traded checkered button down shirts for plain t-shirts and dark trousers. they were neat in their own way and thus his family did not mind the change much. in exchange for their acceptance, chase continued studying and brought home top marks. it was not a big deal to the boy with above average intelligence, who finished his school work with haste to allow himself to dig deeper into the world of magic and darkness. it was truly a miracle how the occult did not affect the purity of his soul, but seemed to enhance it - make it stand out more. chase had always been a friendly kid, ready to play with the neighbourhood kids and shoot ball on the basketball court. now, he was that friendly, misunderstood kid, who lost a friend or two because their parents did not understand chase’s newfound talent for dark humour. it also wasn’t chase’s fault when one of the teens ran away crying over his short lifeline. it was in his palm, what was chase supposed to do? lie? no, chase was no liar though the experience had taught him to be more delicate with the truth, for it is often ugly and unappreciated. in mystical traditions, the secret isn’t that you’re not being told but that you’re not able to hear. chase understood that he lived in a different world than most people.

“the whole and sole object of all true magical and mystical training is to become free from every kind of limitation” ( aleister crowley )

chase floated; between heaven and hell, reality and imagination. he was a guy who looked at the stars, not to make a wish, but to sneak a peek at his ancestors possibly shining down upon him with vague messages of their own. chase believed in angels, both fallen as revered; and in demons, existing in both humanity and as beings of literature and religion. sometime during high school, chase stumbled upon an opportunity that let him visit and face his own demons and they kept him glorious company until the teen could not longer distinguish reality from dreams. he was in touch with his spiritual side, saw things that no one else could see but the skin he inhabited started to deteriorate and the body he was given started to fail him. chase laid off the intoxicants that gave him wings and resettled back on earth. the man’s academic career was promising though not in the preferred field his parents attempted to urge him into. while at cheongnam, his teachers had no clue how to deal with the weird kid in the back of class, there was one person who slipped him contact details of a particular professor at a certain university whom chase eagerly contacted. he got into snu within a week and started his studies on english literature and world mythology. he finished within four years and immediately fell into a research project that took up most of his time, leaving social gatherings a rare occurrence.

“life asked death, why do people love me but hate you? death responded, because you are a beautiful lie and i’m a painful truth”

in the sanctuary of his own shaggy apartment, chase lives his life as peacefully and exhilarating as he can. the sudden hobby of palm reading a service he grants to those who inquire. the man keeps his parents at a distance, not because he does not appreciate their company, but because he wishes to rid himself of most earthly attachments. they didn’t understand him when he was a teenager, and still don’t. they take pride in chase’s profession but not in his field of research. nevertheless, chase park is two sides of a coin; it depends on how you flip him, who you’ll meet. at work, he is seen as the odd one out but a cheerful fellow who you can rely on, sometimes. his students love him and his supervisor inspires him. chase teaches on world myths and beliefs, parapsychology and extrasensory deceits. he preaches the advantages of religion and a descent into occultism. never will it be clear what his own views are on the subjects he instructs. chase park is an enigma few understand, and that is okay. because he is the painful truth among beautiful lies that only a select few will seek and even fewer find. it’s up to you whether you assign him to be your demon or your salvation. but rest assured, it will be magical.

#247: accepted

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artificialqueens · 8 years

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What the Neighbours Say (New Year, New AU) (Trixya) – Ellen Thwoorp

Summary: Trixie moves into a new neighbourhood with her good for very few things husband, ready to begrudgingly start her life as a housewife. That’s when she meets Katya, her bubbly next door neighbour, who understands her situation even more than she knows. They both make discoveries but do they have the strength to pursue them?

A/N: Suburban housewife AU. This is more angsty than I would normally write but I liked this idea. I wanted to explore what might happen in an AU in which they’re not single when they meet. This also has a fair amount of smut. Also this is set in the 90s (I don’t know why thats where my brain sets stuff all the time). Happy endings for life.

(TW for unhappy sex (if that makes sense?), could be seen as dub con and infidelity)

“Either you are one of those dolls come to life to dominate our neighbourhood or you have a fabulous aesthetic.” A voice said from behind her, making Trixie jump and almost drop the box she was holding. “Oh sorry.” The woman apologised, as Trixie put the box at her feet for safe keeping. The last thing she wanted to do was break her collection of vintage Barbies, no matter how happy it would make her husband, Nick.

“It’s alright.” Trixie smiled. “And to answer, maybe I’m both.” The stranger laughed.

“You guys moving in?” The blonde woman asked. The first thing Trixie noticed about her was her bright smile, whitened teeth shining at her. The woman was thin but curvy with a sharply angled face that should have been severe looking but managed to come across soft. She was wearing a rather odd looking black and white wrap dress, the pattern clashing with her colourful cardigan.

“Yeah. I’m Trixie.” Trixie introduced herself, straightening the shabby, oversized pink shirt she was wearing. When she’d dressed that morning her mind had only been on not getting any of her clothes she actually liked dirty, she hadn’t even considered what she would look like if she met their new neighbours. She must look a mess to these people, she’d never lived anywhere so expensive before. She probably stuck out like a sore thumb.

She and Nick had been married for just over a year, after dating for a year. Some people said they moved too quickly but Trixie had been too smitten with the idea of being married to listen, excited to finally get the wedding she’d always dreamed of.

“Katya. I live next door.” The other woman introduced herself, reaching over the white picket fence to hold her hand out to Trixie.

“Oh. That’s nice.” Trixie smiled, wiping her hand on her cropped jeans before taking her hand to shake it. “Nick Hun, come say hello to our neighbour.” Nick looked up and gave a half-hearted nod before turning back to arguing on his cell phone. Trixie swallowed, trying to battle the embarrassed heat that wanted to fill her cheeks. “He’s not normally like that. Work and all.”

“It’s ok. I have one like that at home too.” Katya replied, with more understanding in her eyes that Trixie was comfortable with. Trixie shook herself, letting go of the other woman’s hand.

“Where are you from?” Trixie asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Novosibirsk in Russia. I moved here just before I married my husband.”

“That’s so interesting.” She smiled enthusiastically. She liked this woman. For once she might actually like her neighbour. She remembered Mrs Eleanor Florence, the mean old lady who used to live next door to her just after she left college. She used to sit on the front porch and watch everyone nosily, eating sunflower seeds by the tonne. She used to knock on Trixie’s door every Halloween and give her a lecture on how to listen out for alien contact.

“Would you like to come over for a drink or something on Monday, once the boys have gone to work? The days can get pretty boring for a live in.” Katya asked casually, leaning against the fence. Trixie blinked in surprise then smiled. She had thought making friends in this neighbourhood would be hard but Katya certainly seemed very friendly.

“Oh, yeah. This will actually be the first time I haven’t had a job in a while. After he got this promotion Nick insisted, so…”

“Andrew, my husband, he’s the same. Insisted on being the bread winner.” Katya shrugged. There was an underly tension that suggested to Trixie that Katya didn’t care for the arrangement but she chose not to think on it too much. “So drinks? I could fill you in on all the gossip, you can’t live on this street without knowing who to avoid?”

“Is here a lot of people to avoid?” Trixie asked, looking around at the other houses, each one basically identical.

“Basically everyone.” Katya laughed, leaning forward as though it was a secret. “Excluding myself of course.”

“Drinks sounds great.”

“Fantastic, I’ll see you tomorrow say twelve? I’ll make lunch.”

“Ok.”

……………

From that first lunch the pair shared they became practically inseparable. They would do everything together from shopping to cooking to spa days. In fact there was only one thing Katya insisted on doing on her own and that was getting her hair done. Trixie had once asked her where she went as she needed a cut and the older woman had clammed up suddenly and spouted some nonsense about her hairdressers being exclusive. Trixie had merely shrugged, Katya was an odd duck so she’d just added it to the long list of Katyaisms that was forming in her head.

She been told off by her husband several times for constantly talking about the other woman, saying she sounded obsessed or something. That had hurt Trixie more than she’d expected it too, perhaps hitting a little too close to home. She’d countered that since he insisted she didn’t work not many things happened to her other than what she did with Katya. Did he expect her to sit and listen to him talk about his day at work without having to return the favour? This had turned into possibly one of the worst arguments they’d ever had, resulting in him sleeping on the sofa and Trixie crying herself to sleep wishing that Katya was there.

Nick wasn’t the only one to notice how much time Trixie was spending with the other woman. Several of the other women in the neighbourhood, a group who all went to get their nails done together and did yoga with their chia lattes, came up to her to warn her. They’d tell her Katya was odd and she always had been. That she didn’t fit in with the community and that Trixie didn’t need to make herself a social outcast. They pressed how important it was to choose the right people to associate with.

Trixie remembered the time Debbie from across the street had come up to the two of them to introduce herself to Trixie. She had completely ignored Katya, enthusing about how pretty Trixie was and how much she liked her hair. She’d then invited her to cocktails with herself and the rest of the Stepford wives, as Katya called them. When Trixie had asked if Katya could come to her face turned sour.

“We don’t really think she’d fit in with us. You’d fit in so well, you’re nice and normal. It’s important when you’re new to choose the right friends.”

Trixie had looked at Katya who wore a mask of indifference although Trixie felt as though she could see something else in her eyes, fear? She was Katya’s only friend here, a fact she could hardly understand. She was funny, kind and so full of energy.

Trixie had looked Debbie straight in the eye and informed her she would be sure to choose the right friends. The triumphant look of Debbie’s face lasted barely five seconds as Trixie took Katya’s arms and continued towards her house, calling for Debbie and her friends to enjoy their cocktails. Katya was quiet for a while after they’d walked away, not speaking until they’d reached the door to her house.

“You should have gone for cocktails, Trixie. Don’t exclude yourself because of me.” She’d said, her voice a mixture of sadness and bitterness.

“If you don’t fit in with them then how on Earth will I?” Trixie had laughed. “We already disagree on one thing.” Katya has simply blinked at her. “I think you’re great.”

Katya had smiled at her so brightly Trixie had thought to get her eyes checked for damage. That night they’d made cake and laughed for hours, leading Trixie to completely forget she even had a husband on his way home from work until ten minutes before her was due to arrive. She rushed out of the house, kissing Katya’s cheek hurriedly, not noticing the blush of Katya’s face.

Katya became the closest friend Trixie had ever had, almost like a sister. That was why the first thing she did when she felt the sadness wash over her was turn up at her door, thankful her husband was away so often.

……………….

“Now tell me what’s wrong.” Katya said gently as she guided Trixie to sit on her sofa.

“I think my husbands having an affair.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I found expensive lingerie, in its box and everything. I thought it was for me but the sizes. Katya, they were tiny.” Trixie moaned, holding her hands in front of her to show a size that certainly would not fit her round hips and butt. “I thought maybe he got the wrong size and they’re a gift but he gave me the damn vacuum cleaner for our anniversary. I checked where he’d hidden it and it was gone.”

“So who’s the lingerie for?” Katya filled in with a nod.

“Exactly.” Trixie nodded, looking down at the glass of wine in her hand. “He’s always away. He’s so protective of that damn cell phone. We never have sex anymore.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Come her, you’ve smudged all your makeup.” Katya said gently, shuffling closer and grabbing a tissue. Trixie allowed herself to look at the other woman as she began to wipe her face. Why did her being so close make Trixie so comfortable yet so nervous at the same time? She wasn’t afraid of her. They were friends. Katya smiled at her when she caught her eye. Trixie couldn’t help but smile back. She would never be as beautiful as Katya. Katya was radiant.

Trixie bit her lip, wanting to ask a question but afraid of hurting her. Katya just continued to smile comfortingly at her, letting hand hand fall to rest at the crooks of Trixie’s elbow. “Has Andrew ever…?”

“What? Cheated?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as they both leant back into the sofa.

“Yeah.” Trixie nodded.

“Oh, I know he fucks other women.” Katya huffed, taking a rather large sip from her wine, but then Katya always did finish her drinks faster than Trixie.

“What? How?” The younger woman asked in disbelief. Katya knew. How could she be so flippant?

“You know Andrew, not smart enough to hide a Christmas present let alone a whole person.” Katya rolled her eye, putting down her empty glass. She looked at it for a second as though surprised by it before suddenly snapping out of it and looking up.

“Does he know you know?”

“Yeah, we never talked about it but I’m pretty sure he knows I know.”

“How can you just be alright with him fucking other women?” Trixie asked, trying not to sound incredulous but failing. How could Katya stand the betrayal?

“Because I do it too.” She replied softly, thumb rubbing gently on Trixie’s arm where her hand still rested. Trixie frowned. While she was sure Katya could have her pick of any man she wanted, part of her couldn’t quite believe it. She could believe that Katya was a liar. She’d always thought that cheating was a slimy, lecherous thing to do and yet across from her sat the funny, kind, elegant Katya. The last thing she was was slimy or lecherous.

“What? You sleep with men behind his back?” Trixie asked, needing the clarification. Maybe she’d misunderstood.

“No.”

“But you said-”

“Trixie.” She interrupted, putting her hands over Trixie’s and cupping them softly. Trixie swallowed, reminding herself that when you have no affectionate physical contact, holding hands with anyone felt good. “I don’t fuck other men behind his back. I fuck other women.”

“What?”

“I don’t sleep with men, I sleep with women.” She clarified, watching Trixie carefully. Suddenly everything changed for Trixie. They weren’t holding hands as friends anymore because Katya… she liked women. You don’t hold hands with someone unless you like them. What did it mean for Katya to like her? What if it meant she wanted her?

“Oh my god. You’re a dyke?” Trixie breathed, pulling her hands away from Katya hold. She let them go, sitting back a little further.

“It’s complicated, but I seem to be sexually attracted to both women and men. That has nothing to do with the fact I don’t love my husband anymore.” Katya said, her voice a little hoarse. She sounded wrong. Trixie couldn’t pin point it, her voice just sounded off somehow.

“Why would you stay with him if you don’t love him?” Trixie asked after a long moment of silence.

“The kids. The house. My parents. His parents. My visa. There’s a lot of reasons, Trixie.”

“So you just habitually cheat on each other?! That’s disgusting.”

“Would you still think it was disgusting if I was sleeping with the pool boy behind his back and not my hair dresser?” Katya countered. Trixie paused for a moment. The hairdresser. The ‘exclusive’ hairdresser.

“I- y- I need to leave, I should go home.”

“Trixie, you don’t have to go, you can stay here tonight.”

“No, no don’t.” Trixie snapped, pulling away from Katya’s touch. “I don’t want you like that. Ok, I don’t. I’m straight and I don’t like you like that. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Woah, ok. I meant you could stay in the spare room or I’ll sleep down here. I’m not some kind of predator.” Katya said, raising her hands and quickly taking a step back. Guilt could in Trixie stomach at the hurt on the other woman’s face. God why did everything have to be so complicated.

“I have to go. Goodbye.”

…………..

Three weeks later…

“Hey.” Nick called as he walked into the house. Trixie checked her lipstick in the shiny toaster before he walked into their kitchen. He’d been away for three days at a confrence, or so he said. She was going to not only win her husband back from whoever he was seeing on the side but she was going to prove something to herself.

“Hi. Did you have a good day at work?” Trixie asked as he walked into the dimly lit room.

“Hey, what’s all this?”

“I thought we could have a special night just for us.” Trixie smiled, opening her robe to reveal the expensive lingerie she’d bought with Katya. It was odd but she couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Nick looked at her with little more than mild interest masked as hunger. When Katya had first seen her in this, the look in her eyes was indescribable. She hadn’t been able to place it before but knowing what she knew now about Katya, it was certainly lust. Katya’s compliments had made her feel so beautiful. So special. So important. Nick just made her feel cheap as he leant forward and kissed her.

They made their way up to their bedroom, Nick pulling at his tie.

…………..

She moaned, exaggerating it as she often did, for his benefit. It wasn’t bad, it was nice and all. It felt more like he didn’t know how to touch her anymore. That or he just didn’t bother to know anymore. She wondered if Katya would know where to touch her. She must do, she’s a woman. She knows where feels good.

That was when the image of Katya on top of her came into her mind. Katya kissing her neck as she pushed her fingers inside. Katya rolling her nipple between her teeth as she writhed. Katya sliding down her body to press a clever mouth right up against her. Trixie opened her eyes in surprise at how real her moan was she Nick pushed into her.

“God you’re so fucking wet.” Nick breathed as he began to fuck her. Trixie swallowed, guilt washing over her as she realised what just happened. She was thinking about Katya. About Katya touching her. And it was turning her on. She wrapped her arms around her husband as he pushed into her. He wasn’t even looking at her. She’d put all this effort into looking nice and he didn’t even appreciate it. Katya would have appreciated it, a small part of her brain supplied as she returned to fake moaning in the hope it would be over soon.

“I love you.” He groaned as her pounded into her, his socks still on his feet.

“I love you too.” Trixie gasped out, a tear leaking from her eye as her husband tensed and came. She quickly wiped it away as he rolled off her to lay on his back. It was barely three minutes before he began snoring. She took a deep breath, climbing out of the bed and going into the bathroom. She hadn’t meant it. She’s said it but she didn’t mean it at all. She didn’t love him. Not anymore.

She shut the door behind her, hands shaking as she looked at herself in the mirror. How long had it no longer been true? How many times has she lied? Not only to Nick but to herself. Her hands gripped the side of the sink as she let silent tears run down her face.

Not for the first time in the past few weeks she wished Katya was there. She found herself wishing it almost every minute of every day. She’d tried to go over and see her, apologise for how she was, spend time with her again. But she couldn’t. Every time she came close to their front door a feeling bubbled up in her chest. It scared her.

She raised her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. She pulled out a tissue from the box in front of her and began to tidy up her make up. You want Katya, she thought to herself, you want to sleep with her.

“I’m not gay.” She breathed, barely audible. But I’m also not happy. Taking a step back Trixie scrutinised herself in the mirror. She looked so good, and he hadn’t even said anything. Hadn’t even bothered to take is socks off. Katya would have said something. Maybe she still could, the bad part of her mind suggested. She swallowed. What was she doing?

……………….

"Hi.“ Trixie said softly when Katya finally opened her front door. They hadn’t spoken in almost three weeks now. Trixie had thought the separation might help her. Might stop her thinking about Katya all the time. But it didn’t. She only found herself obsessing more. Thinking about Katya with several faceless woman in several different positions.

"Oh, hey.” Katya said in surprise, looking her up and down. “Are you alright?” Trixie swallowed looking down at her pink silken dressing gown.

“Is- is Andrew here?” The younger woman asked, avoiding the question because she found she didn’t know the answer herself. She shivered slightly in her thin clothes.

“No, he’s away at a conference or so he tells me.” Katya supplied with a shrug, still looking thoroughly confused by the situation.

“C-can I come in?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Katya said gently, stepping aside to let the other woman into her house. Trixie slumped into the house, arms wrapped around her robe. It was like she was trying to hold herself together, arms squeezing herself tight so that she wouldn’t just fall to pieces of Katya ugly rug. “What can I do for you?” Katya asked as she shut the door behind her. Trixie came to a stop in the hall and looked up the stairs. What could she do for her?

She turned around, pulling at the tie on the front of her robe. Katya stared in disbelief as she held it open to reveal her lingerie. “You like me in the lingerie, how about you take it off me.” Trixie said as confidently as she could. Katya looked her up and down appreciatively before frowning at her.

“What are you doing, Trixie?” She asked, stepping closer, fingers twitching as though trying to restrain a need to touch.

“Please.” She said with a slightly shaky voice.

“What do you want?” Katya asked as she stepped into Trixie’s personal space. The younger woman let her arms fall around Katya’s shoulders.

“I want you to touch me.” Trixie gasped, her breath heavy. God she was so close. “I want to come, God it’s been so long since someone made me feel good I-”

“And you think I can make you do that?” Katya whispered, nose brushing against Trixie��s as her warm hands rested softly on her hips. She could feel her thumbs stroking at the skin between her knickers and her garter belt.

“I know you can.” She replied, pressing closer against the other woman. Katya regarded her for a moment before leaning forward to kiss her. It was one of the sweetest kisses Trixie had tasted in a long time. She sighed, pushing her fingers into Katya’s hair. It was odd how different it felt, kissing a woman. The body pressed against her, both familiar and unfamiliar as Katya slid an arm around her.

“Take me upstairs?” Trixie asked when she finally pulled away for air. She knew it was a cliché but kissing Katya felt like drowning. When she caught Katya’s eye she knew something had just changed. She couldn’t go back now. She’d tasted something homemade Italian macaroni and cheese, she couldn’t go back to Kraft dinners now. Ok, so the food analogy was odd but she found herself smiling, knowing that Katya would have found it funny.

Katya reached forwards to carefully brush Trixie’s delicately styled hair away from her face. “Ok.” She nodded after searching Trixie’s face for a moment. She took the other woman’s hand, leading her up the stairs. Trixie followed, nerves bubbling her stomach at the quiet tension that threatened to snap at any moment.

“Are you sure about this, Trixie?” Katya asked as Trixie laid back on her disastrously decorated bed. Trixie smiled down at the clashing prints. Katya didn’t fit in the neighbourhood, she never could. People thought that was a bad thing, that she was wrong for being weird but it was honestly one of Trixie’s favourite things about her.

“Yes.” Trixie nodded, looking at her with a smile. She surprised herself in just how okay she felt. Sure she was nervous but it was a good kind of nervous. That mixture of nerves and excitement that fills your belly on the first day of school or prom or a first date.

“And you know we can stop whenever, if it’s too much or you don’t like it we can just…”

“Katya, I know.” She said reassuringly, giving her a smile as she slipped her robe off and dropped it onto the floor beside the bed. She leant back coyly. “Now take that off.” She added, nudging the fabric of Katya’s dress with her toes. The Russian smiled, raising her arms to pull it over her head. Colour stained Trixie’s cheeks as she looked at Katya. “You’re not wearing any underwear.” She rasped, her mouth dry as she looked at the other woman’s naked body.

“What will the neighbours say?!” Katya gasped in mock horror, hand coming to rest on her neck as though she was clutching pearls. Trixie giggled. “I’m afraid it doesn’t make me quite the sight you are.” Katya added, chuckling as she slid onto the bed, crawling on top of the other woman. Trixie heart beat sped up as she loomed over her. Katya’s presence was so overpowering, it was as though she filled every corner of the room.

“I think you look amazing.” Trixie breathed, letting her eyes trail up to meet the other woman’s. She raised her hand to touch her before suddenly faltering. It had taken her all this time to realise she didn’t quite know how to touch the other woman. The last thing she wanted to be was a selfish lover, she wanted Katya to feel as good as her.

“It’s alright.” Katya said softly, looking her in the eye. “You can touch me wherever you want.” Trixie swallowed before moving to cup Katya breast in her hand. She let out a small gasp as she felt her. It was an odd and yet erotic feeling, touch another woman’s breasts. She’d expected them to feel the same as her own and yet they didn’t. They seemed heavier, her skin softer. Katya sighed in pleasure and leant forward to kiss Trixie again. The kissed languidly, Katya’s hands roaming gently yet modestly up and down her thigh. Trixie found herself surprised just how slow this was. It was as though Katya was taking time to memorise her, to get to know her mouth thoroughly before she moved on anywhere else.

“God you’re beautiful.” Katya moaned, sitting back on her heels to look down at her. “Let me take it in before it take it off you.” She explained, eyes roaming over Trixie in a way that might have made her feel uncomfortable if it was anyone else.

“Please, Katya.” She gasped, wriggling a little beneath her. As much as she wanted to go slowly, taking everything in, she was already desperate for release. She wanted everything and she wanted it as soon as possible.

“It’s okay sweetie, I’ve got you.” The older woman said softly, pressing a kiss to her thigh as she unhooked her suspenders and began to slide her stocking down.

“You don’t need to take it all off.” Trixie informed her, letting her hand fall back on the pillow beside her as Katya slid her other stocking down her leg. She waved them in the air with a flourish she seemed to know would make Trixie smile before dropping them to the floor.

“And deprive myself of seeing this gorgeous body in all its glory?” Katya asked incredulously, a playful smile on her face.

“You make me feel…” Trixie began before falling quiet, chewing her lip as Katya came to lean close to her.

“What? What do I make you feel?”

“Special.” She confessed as Katya helped her out of her bra, dragging the pink lace down her arms “Beautiful.” Katya hooked her fingers in her underwear, sliding it down as Trixie felt blush tint her cheeks. What surprised her was that the embarrassment wasn’t due to her nudity but her confessions. Looking up from her place laid between Trixie’s legs, Katya watched her closely. “Important.” …Loved, Trixie’s mind added at the end. Katya made her feel how Nick was supposed to make her feel.

“You are all those things.” Katya said with a surprisingly sad look in her eyes. She trailed up Trixie’s body, pressing stray kisses to her skin. “Don’t you feel like that the rest of the time?”

Trixie shook her head.

“You are so special, Trixie.” She said firmly, looking down at her with the softest eyes.

“Please. Katya. Ah.” Trixie moaned as Katya hand slid down between her legs. The Russian grinned, dipping to kiss her neck.

“Are you wearing new perfume?” She asked as she slid down Trixie’s body. Trixie could only nod her breath heavy with anticipation. “It suits you.” She grinned, positioning one of Trixie’s legs over her shoulder.

Trixie didn’t know if Katya saw the smile that split her face before she leant down to lick her. But soon it didn’t matter as Katya’s tongue flicked her clit. She let out a moan, not realising how worked up she was.

Trixie’s hand quickly fell to her breast, squeezing it as Katya continued to lick and suckle gently on her clit. God she was good. She could feel her toes curling as she writhed. Katya had a hand wrapped tightly around her raised leg, the other resting on her stomach to still her movements.

Katya moaned as Trixie took her hand and pulled it up to rest on her breast. Trixie twitched at the feel of the vibration against her. She held her own hand tightly over Katya’s as the other woman massaged her breast. The Russian was certainly talented with her mouth in way Trixie hadn’t experienced in years, if ever. Katya’s fingers laced with her own over her breast, pushing one of her nipples between their joined fingers.

It really didn’t take long for Trixie soft moan to turn into near screams. She grasped the head board with her free hand, needing to hold onto something as she felt orgasm approach. “Katya.” She moaned as the other woman slid a finger inside her and crooked it. Blinding hot pleasure shot through her spine as she came harder than she had in years. Katya rode her through it, pressing kisses to clit before taking a long slow lick from her opening all the way up. Trixie shuddered, feeling boneless.

“God that was hot.” Katya moaned, hand between her legs. Trixie’s mind had evidently leaked from her ears during orgasm as it took her several seconds to realise what Katya said and what she was doing.

“Let me.” Trixie said quickly her breath still heavy. For a moment she worried her arms wouldn’t respond before she reached out to the other woman.

“I’m not far. Just do what you would do to yourself.” She instructed as she laid back on the bed. Trixie rolled on top of her, sliding her hand teasingly down Katya’s stomach. The look on Katya face as she finally touched her was something to behold. Trixie kissed her chest, shocked at just how wet the other woman was. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed eating her out. She enjoyed touching her.

Trixie pushed a finger inside as Katya raised her leg to allow her better access. The Russian moaned and shivered as she began to push in and out slowly, her thumb rubbing circles against her clit.

“How are you so ah-” Katya gasped out as Trixie began to move faster, crooking her fingers slightly as Katya had.

“Shhh.” Trixie hushed as she kissed Katya’s neck, trailing down to gently take one of her nipples between her teeth. Katya’s hands gripped her arm tightly as she moaned, she was close already. She began rambling Russian as Trixie sucked her nipple, picking up the pace of her fingers. Her whole body tensed as she came, head thrown back in a silent cry. She slumped, trying to get her breathing back to a more normal rate.

Trixie rolled back, smiling softly as Katya followed her. Resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder, her arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They lay like that for several minutes, just breathing. Trying to cling to the good feeling as long as they could. Trixie stroked Katya’s long hair. She had always wondered how soft it would feel between her fingers. And now she knew. So many of those things she’d wondered about Katya. What she would look like in the throes of passion? How it would feel to kiss her? All those things she’d thought about while Nick snored on the other side of the bed.

Nick.

Trixie looked up at the ceiling and felt tears prick her eyes. She tried to fight the tears, not wanting Katya to feel bad or like she was at fault. Her hand came to cover her mouth as she began to cry.

“Trixie?” Katya frowned, evidently feeling Trixie’s shoulders shake. “Oh Trixie.” She breathed when she saw her face. “This is my fault, I knew something was wrong.” She said quickly, looking away in anger. Trixie momentarily felt hurt but it quickly became clear who she was angry at as she rubbed her eyes. Katya was angry at herself.

“I’m sorry.” She gasped, wiping fat tears as they rolled down her face. It was like someone had opened the floodgates, the harder she tried to stop the more she cried. She must look terrible with make-up streaking down her cheeks.

“Oh Trixie, come here.” Katya sighed, pulling her into a hug. She stroked her hair gently as she rocked them slightly. “I understand. You feel guilty. It’s ok. We can forget it ever happened.” She assured her, although something in her voice betrayed the truth of the matter. Katya didn’t want to forget.

“But I don’t feel guilty.” Trixie sobbed. “That’s the awful part. I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re far from a terrible person, sweetie, you’re the most amazing person I know.”

“I think the same about you.” The younger woman confessed, not able to look up from her place pressed against Katya’s chest for fear of what she might see.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, I’ll be right back.” Katya said as she stood, walking out of the room naked as the day she was born. Trixie ran her hands over her eyes and looked down at them. A silver band lay heavy on her finger.

She couldn’t decide if it was worse that she did what she did or that she didn’t regret it. God, she was a shitty person. How had she been so angry at Nick for betraying their relationship when she had done the same? How often had she lied to him? Was it every time she said she loved him? Was she lying on their wedding day? How did she know? Truth and lies had become muddled up in what she and others expected her to feel.

“Here.” Katya said gently and she sat down beside the other woman. She slid a mug into her hand. “It’s tea, I’d give you something stronger but I can’t have alcohol in the house anymore.” She shrugged, not meeting Trixie’s eye as she fiddled with a thread on one of her colourful blankets.

“You stopped drinking?” Trixie asked in surprise, part of her secretly relieved to hear so.

“Yeah, it- its was close to turning into something. Turning me into someone I didn’t want to be.”

“Do you feel better now?” She asked hopefully, blowing on the tea to cool it before taking a sip.

“No, it feels like shit, I just have to believe it’ll feel better tomorrow.” Katya confessed, running idle fingers over Trixie’s knee. Trixie smiled, dropping her free hand down to take Katya’s, hoping it would let her know that there was no shame in what she was doing.

“I’ve been doing that for the past six years. It doesn’t always work.” Trixie said humourlessly as Katya laced their fingers.

“What’s going on, Trixie?”

“Nick and I just had sex. Before I came I mean.”

“You’re telling me my mouth made indirect contact with Nick’s cock.” Katya shuddered, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Shut up.” Trixie said, failing to stop the giggle from bubbling up her chest. Katya smirked, nudging her with her shoulder. “He was wearing a condom and this is serious.”

“Ok.”

“He told me that he loved me.” Trixie continued, looking up to meet Katya’s eyes.

“Ok, that’s good. Right?” The Russian asked in what was evidently supposed to be cheeriness.

“I said it back. But I didn’t mean it, Katya.” She sighed, looking down at her tea as the steam swirled above the cup. “I just realised how many times I said it but I didn’t actually mean it.”

“Oh sweetie.” Katya sighed with understanding in her voice that hurt Trixie in a way she hadn’t been expecting. It sounded too much like Katya understood due to personal experience.

“All I do is lie to him. I tell him I love him. I’ve fake every orgasm I’ve had with him for the past almost year and a half.” She took a breath, it felt good to get her feelings out. There was no way she could tell her mother or sister, they wouldn’t understand or worse they’d tell her they’d told her so and refuse to help her with the mess she was in. “I was so mad at him for lying but I’m just as bad.”

“Faking an orgasm isn’t the same as cheating.”

“What did I just do Katya?” Trixie huffed, looking up to meet the other woman’s eye. She sighed and took a sip of her tea before placing it on the bedside table. “It’s like I just suddenly realised how fucking miserable I am all the time. Why am I living like this? Why am I doing this to my husband? To my family?”

“I can’t believe this.” Katya huffed, shaking her head.

“What?”

“Your husband is a dick and you’re blaming yourself for everything. Why do you always have to play the victim?” She snapped, letting go of Trixie as she stood. She was seemingly restless as she began to pace at the end of the bed.

“Excuse me?!” Trixie squeaked indignantly, she didn’t understand where this sudden anger came from but it felt very out of character for the Katya she thought she knew.

“So your husband is fucking somebody else. So you don’t love him anymore. So he doesn’t appreciate you. So he doesn’t worship every part of you like he should. What are you going to do about it?”

“Oh you’re one to talk. With your not so secret affairs.” Trixie argued back, moving to the bottom of the bed and rising to her knees to put herself on a more equal level with the other woman.

“That’s exactly why I’m saying this to you, because I wish someone had said it to me four years ago.” Katya insisted, the regret in her voice making Trixie’s heart break into small pieces. “What are you going to do about it, Trixie?”

“I-”

“Don’t you dare just accept this shit. Don’t you dare just decide it’s terrible and there’s nothing to be done.” She cried, her voice suddenly dropping as she looked at Trixie with earnest eyes. “You’re worth so much more than that.” Katya sighed. Trixie swallowed, how was it that compliments from Katya felt different than when they came from other people. When Katya told her she was beautiful, she made her believe it just by the way she said it. As though she couldn’t be surer of any other fact. “What do you want, Trixie?”

“I want to be in love again.” She confessed, thinking of all the things she thought she would have when she married her sweetheart. “I want to laugh. I want to cuddle. I watch stupid movies and eat cake. I want to go on picnics and spend the whole trip in the car because of the rain.” Trixie continued, suddenly realising she’d unintentionally shifted from general feelings to specific things she’d done with Katya. “I want to be happy again.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Katya asked.

“I’m going to leave my husband.”

“I’m very proud of you.” The Russian breathed, her eye shining with a mixture of pride, happiness and envy. It was as though she’d decided she was too far gone. As though she was stuck but she’d realised she could grant freedom to someone who still had the chance to get out.

“And you’re going to come with me." Trixie blurted out enthusiastically, grabbing Katya’s hands.

"What? Trixie I can’t I-” Katya began to argue, looking down at their hands sadly.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t Trixie, there might be problems with my visa and Andrew knows about the women. He’ll tell people Trixie.” She insisted, fear creeping into her eyes. It was then that Trixie wondered just how many people knew that Katya liked woman as well as men.

“So?”

“Oh my god, that’s such a straight person thing to say.” Katya huffed, rolling her eyes. “People are not going to like it.” Trixie sat back on her heels and though about this for a moment. She knew that it was an unusual and likely risky choice to live an openly gay life with your lover. With the aids crisis fresh in the memory of most of the world she knew there would be prejudice. But she also knew there would be allies. People, communities, groups that would not only accept but embrace them.

“Were you here fifteen minutes ago? That didn’t seem very straight.”

“Letting me eat you out does not a lesbian make, Trixie.” Katya laughed, looking at Trixie with fond eyes.

“Maybe I’m not as straight as you think.” Trixie countered, pulling the other woman closer by their joined hands. Katya chuckled as Trixie face came within inches of her own.

“Oh yeah?” She countered, stepping closer.

“Yeah.” Trixie nodded, pressing her lips to Katya’s in a fairly quick open mouthed kiss. Katya hummed into the kiss, hand coming to rest on the back of her head.

“Trixie.” Katya sighed, her tone warning as she pulled away, putting some distance between them, even if it was a small amount of distance.

“Come with me, Katya. We’ll go find a place together. We’ll sort things out. Nothing is going to change until we make it change.”

“People are going to think you’re my girlfriend if they find out I’m gay and we’re living together.” Katya mumbled, looking down at the ground as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“It would be quite the scandal.” Trixie giggled, her tone evidently surprising the other woman.

“You don’t mind that?” She blinked.

“What if it was true?”

“Oh my god, this isn’t happening.” Katya breathed, hands coming to cover her eyes as she walked in an aimless circle as she tried to process this information.

“Katya. I don’t really understand what I feel for you but it is something and it is real. I think about you all the time, you make me happy. I- I was even thinking about you when Nick and I were…” She trailed off, sighing at Katya’s frantic motions. She stood and came to stand in front of the other woman, placing her hands on her hips to hold her still. Katya peeked out from behind her fingers, her eyes conveyed a mixture of nerves and joy that left Trixie feeling confident in her words. “I think I might be in love with you and I know it’s kind of out of nowhere and I don’t really understand it but… that’s how I feel. So there.” She said with a sense of finality, letting her hands fall to her sides.

“I- I mean this is all so sudden. I’ve wanted to hear you say you liked me like that for so long, but last time we saw each other you wouldn’t even touch me Trixie.” Katya rambled, hurt colouring her eyes as she thought back to the last time they’d spoken.

“I was scared of what I felt. I still kind of am honestly.” Trixie confessed, looking at the ground guilty before gathering her courage. “But I know that you make me happy. Do I make you happy?” She asked hopefully, placing a gentle hand on Katya’s bicep.

“Yes, more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Katya sighed, stepping forwards to pull her into a hug. “I don’t like to let people know when I’m scared. I’m scared a lot of the time, even Andrew doesn’t know this but even the grocery store scares me.” Katya whispered in her ear, hands holding her waist tightly. Trixie swallowed, shocked by the confession. Katya always seemed so together, so calm and collected.

“Sometimes it good to be scared. It lets you know life is interesting.” Trixie said gently, stroking her hand over Katya’s long hair.

“Is that why I’m terrified right now? Because life is interesting.” Katya asked, her chest moving against Trixie’s as she chuckled breathlessly.

“Maybe. Listen you don’t have to come with me. But if you ever decided you wanted to you’d always be welcome.”

“I thought you wanted me to come with you.”

“I do.” Trixie said earnestly. “But I’d rather you were comfortable. If you want to stay here. If you feel safe here, stay Katya. I mean it.” She pressed a kiss to the other woman’s hands. “Then you can visit me as much as you want. Maybe one day you’ll be ready to join me.”

“You’d do that for me? You’d go all alone?” Katya asked in surprise, blinking rapidly.

“Of course.“ Trixie nodded as Katya stared down at the carpet beneath their feet.

"You still want to run away together?” The Russian asked after a long moment of silence.

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you know the number of a good divorce lawyer?”

“You’re coming?” Trixie asked hopefully. Katya bit her lip as grinned widely, nodding.

“This is crazy, you’re crazy.” Katya giggled as Trixie jumped in the air, hugging her tightly.

“Maybe a little.” Trixie confessed, swooping forwards to press the hard kiss to Katya’s lips. She pulled away, quickly searching for her underwear. “Pack your bags.”

“You want to go right now? What about your stuff?” Katya blinked, evidently surprised by the sudden action. She looked over at the clock, nine o’clock.

“I’ve had bags packed since I found out about the cheating. We can come back and get the rest of our stuff later, we’ll figure all that out later.” Trixie said with a wave of her hand. She remembered when she’d angrily packed the bags while Nick was at work. By the time she’d finished her anger had been replaced with overwhelming sadness and she’d gone straight to Katya’s.

“Ok. But you write that man a letter. He may be a selfish motherfucker but don’t stoop to his level by leaving with no explanation.” Katya inisisted, waggling her finger at the other woman as she picked up her dress.

“Ok.” Trixie nodded as Katya slid her dress on. A wave of guilt hit her as she remembered some of the good times she and Nick had had when they’d first met. They weren’t a poorly suited pair, they’d gotten on pretty well when they first got together but it became clear to Trixie as she reflected on their time together that the longer they were together the less he seemed to care about her. He took her for granted, slowly realising that he could get away with doing less and less on his end.

“I’m going to go pack. There’s a pad of paper and a pen by the telephone.” Katya said, pointing to the phone on the bedside table.

“Ok.” She nodded, picking up the items and sliding down onto the bed as Katya pulled open the wardrobe.

“Ok. Great.” Katya nodded, pulling dresses out of the wardrobe two at a time. She turned, arms full to see a thoughtful look on Trixie’s face as she stared down at the paper in front of her. She dropped the dresses on the bed and came to Trixie’s side. “Are you okay?” She asked gently as she noticed the sad look in Trixie’s eyes.

“Sorry.” She replied quickly, looking up from the paper. “I was never good at breaking up with people.” She confessed, with a small smile. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“Trixie, you’re sure about this?”

“It feels right in my gut.” Trixie smiled, taking Katya hand in her own. “Does it feel right in yours?” She asked, a laugh in her voice to hide the nerves she felt at the question. The Russian paused for a second then grinned.

“Yeah. It does.”

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