#i joke about how owning leather is the Queer Point of No Return

[hazel2468]

Today on "Odd Things That Gave Me Happy Gender Feels"-

Conditioning my new Docs for the first time.

Getting my new shoes for work (they are SO nice and fit like a glove)

New necklace that looks like barbed wire

Noticing that yeah- my voice HAS gotten a little bit deeper in the two months I've been on T.

[anyoneseenadam]

could you maybe write cuddles with mor? there’s a serious lack in writing for her and i just read your exam work you wrote <3 (i loved it)

pairing: Mor x reader (acotar)

warnings: literally just fluff

a/n: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH LOVLIES!!!! if any of you are queer in any shape or form you are valid and i love you, mor would too <33

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“You’ve had her all day,” you whined, tugging on Mor’s arm as she smiled at you lovingly.

“That’s because she was my friend before she was your girlfriend,” Cassian replied in the same whiny voice, trying to tug Mor in his direction, “And we have actual work to do.”

“Do I look like I care?” you pulled a face at him, glaring from under your brows.

“You should,” he replied, flicking your nose.

“I will not hesitate to stab you bitch,” you gave a firmer tug as Mor wriggled her way free of Cassian, moving to pull you along as you stuck your tongue out at Cassian. He pulled another face at you, sticking up his middle finger as you were pulled away, laughing at him as you go.

You squeezed her hand as you fell into step beside her, your pace slowing as you walked home.

The walk was quiet, Mor tired after a long day and you simply content to walk silently by her side. The only sounds you could hear was the birds chirping and the distant chatter of people spending their evening in bars and on balconies. You could smell a barbeque in the distance and the setting sun cast goosebumps down your bare arms.

Summer was always your favourite season, the heat allowing you to spend all day outside, lying about or going on walks. You had even dragged Mor swimming earlier in the week, much to her protests. Although she contrasted you quite nicely in that sense, her favourite season being winter.

She was in love with the smell of spices and fires burning as the months grew colder, having more time spent inside with her family and of course she could never say no to the love of her life all bundled up in an oversized jumper and holding a hot drink while curled in front of the fire.

However now as she walked beside you and watched you breathe in the air, your sun-kissed skin glowing in the evening light. You look over when you feel her gaze on you, her eyes dark when you catch them and you giggle, leading her up to the front door of your apartment.

“What is it?” you ask, and she smiles at you in the way that fills your stomach with butterflies and heart with an abundance of joy.

“You look so pretty in this lighting,” she said softly, the sun casting you in tones of gold. Your skin was sparkling the gold jewellery you dressed in made you appear ethereal. All this paired with a white sundress and thick, leather sandals made her surer that she was in face dating an old god, one who had awoken from their long slumber to greet her.

She silently thanked whatever forces had brought you into her life when you laughed quietly, looking down in embarrassment at her words, before looking up from under darked eyelashes and smudged eyeshadow and reached to kiss her gently.

“Well you look pretty in every lighting, so I think I won on that front,” you joked when you pulled away and she rolled her eyes, pulling you into her arms before unlocking and pushing open the door.

Once inside you moved through to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of gin and two large glasses as she walked through. She smiled when you shook the glasses and went to grab the lemonade you had made earlier that week, using lemons from the tree that grew on your balcony. You made your drinks with her hugging you from behind, her chin tucked into the crook of your neck as she watched you carefully pour out measurements.

“Did you eat tonight?” you asked, turning in her arms, and passing her drink over.

She nodded, sipping, and humming appreciatively, “Did you?”

You nodded as well, nudging her nose with your own before steeping away and leading her to the table you had set up on your balcony. She sat down in a seat as you leant on the railing with one hand, using the other to remove your shoes, scrunching your nose up as she laughed at your struggle.

“Don’t be mean,” you joked, standing and moving to walk to your chair when she grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto her lap. You laughed at the change as she wound her arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your neck as you listened to the soft, jazzy music that was playing in the bar a few blocks over and watched the sun set over the horizon.

You mindlessly spoke about your days as you sipped at your drinks. You had turned in her lap at some point so now as you sat under the starry sky, your only source of light coming from the moon and the tall candles you had lit. You turned to look at her when you noticed she had been quiet for a while and found her watching you sleepily, her eyes flickering with the reflections of the flames dancing in them.

“Lets go to bed,” you whispered when you noticed the tired way she was moving. She didn’t reply, instead just taking the hand you offered her and shuffling through to your shared bedroom with you in tow. You both changed into your underwear, the air too hot for much more, and you moved to crack open the windows in your room.

When you turned back Mor had gone into the ensuite and you moved to follow her, the two of you getting ready for bed quietly as you went about your separate routines. When you finished she had already gone back through and you found her sitting up in bed with her arms outstretched to you, a sleepy but genuine smile resting on her beautiful face.

You crawled into bed next to her, lying with your head tucked between her breasts as she stroked a hand over your head. You were surrounded by her smell, the scent intoxicating and addicting and you let out a content sigh as she moved her hand from your hair to pull the cotton sheet over your bodies.

The cool fabric was a stark contrast to her warm body, yet you found yourself pushing closer into her, tangling your legs with hers and raising your arms so your hands could grab hers, interlinking your fingers. Mor kissed your head gently, her slowing breaths and heartbeat creating a melody that was lulling you to sleep slowly.

Your long day had left your body tired. Your arms were heavy and your eyes falling shut automatically, however now that you were actually laying down to get some much needed rest your brain wouldn’t quiet down. There was a random song playing in your head and while you were extremely comfortable in your lovers’ arms, you couldn’t get to sleep. It didn’t help that even with the open windows the room was suffocatingly hot, and Mor’s hot skin being pressed against you was only adding to that.

After about an hour of no sleep you rolled out of Mor’s embrace, standing and wandering to get yourself a glass of water, drinking it on your balcony as the cool air washed over your sweaty skin. You lifted your hair and sighed as the breeze moved over your neck, cooling you down considerably.

“Why did you leave?” you turned to see your girlfriend wrapped in the white sheet standing behind you. You smiled as she pouted at you adorably, her hair mused on top of her head, although she still looked as stunning as always.

“It’s too hot in there, sorry baby,” you apologised and she scrunched up her face before holding up a finger and turning, plodding back into you apartment as you watched her with a soft smile upon your face.

She returned holding about thirty pillows and deposited them at your feet. “We can just sleep outside then, because I am not giving up on cuddling.”

You laughed as she spoke, drawing her into you by her waist, “I’m glad we both have our priorities straight.”

“Nothing about us is straight,” she muttered and you laughed before pulling away to arrange the pillows she had brought out. When you had made an appropriate pillow fort Mor clapped her hands together, crawling under the blanket that had been drawn over the top to shelter you from the light in the morning.

You crawled in next to her and she grinned at you with childlike joy. “Big or little spoon?” she asked and you looked up as you pondered it.

“Little,” she smiled at you before moving to lie half on her back and half on her side, stretching out an arm for you. You lay next to her, her arms wrapping around your waist as your own hands came to clasp her hand, pulling it up to your heart.

She pressed her face in between your shoulder blades, kissing the skin in between them as you both burrowed down to sleep.

“I love you the most,” you whispered as you realised that she had just changed her entire sleep plan to better fit you. You felt her smile against your bare skin as her arm tightened around you.

“I love you more that that,” she replied and your laughed, squeezing her hand, making her yelp slightly.

“Well I love you more that that,” this time she jabbed you beneath the ribs, knowing how ticklish you are there, smiling as you cried out, wriggling away from her as she laughed.

She relented her tickling hands to pull you back, wanting you as close as physically possible. You allowed her to pull you close again and she sighed into your skin as she breathed you in.

“Goodnight, my love.” She whispered the words into your skin, hoping that saying them directly into you would seal them in. Make them permanent.

Little did she now that her love for you was already permanent, and that yours for her was equally as permanent. You knew what she was thinking when she spoke but half asleep you simply replied, “Goodnight darling, I love you.” Finally drifting to some much needed sleep as the breeze cooled your joined skin.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part three(!)

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode has so much crucially important stuff in it I had to write 3 posts about it! Part one is here, part two is here. 

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

Lan Wangji has never had a real fight with Wei Wuxian before--remember, in their rooftop fight Wei Wuxian never even drew his sword. And since this is going to be a verbal fight, Lan Wangji is going to lose, badly. He's an elegant and articulate speaker, but he's not quick with words, and he speaks directly and sincerely. Weaponized speech is not his area at all, so he's pretty much bringing a knife to a gunfight. A guqin to a flute fight. Whatever. He tries to turn it into a physical confrontation, twice, but Jiang Cheng holds him back.

This throwdown is 100% about religion and orthodoxy; something that is fundamental to both of these young men's lives. Lan Wangji has made it his mission to be as orthodox as possible, doing shit like volunteering to be beaten for drinking when he didn't choose to drink. He's constantly overwhelmed by emotion, and the Lan rules are a source of regulation and safety for him. His emotions around Wei Wuxian are among the most overwhelming he's got, possibly only second to his feelings about his mom.

Right now his feelings are extra overwhelming. 

It's complicated because his relationship with Wei Wuxian literally started off with him punishing Wei Wuxian for heterodoxy. All that time they spent together in the library? Was because Wei Wuxian talked--JUST talked--about using resentful energy for cultivation. Which is precisely the ability he's just shown them, along with a style of killing enemies that's borderline evil and definitely, DEFINITELY unsportsmanlike.

So this is not, Lan Wangji is lovingly worried about Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. This is Lan Wangji freaking out because his entire system of belief is being challenged and he's in love with the person who's challenging it.  

Wei Wuxian has shown up to the party wearing an International Mr. Leather tee shirt with a enamel pin stuck to it that says "I get my kicks on route 666" and Lan Wangji just. cannot. deal.  

Never Start a Fight But Always Finish One

Wei Wuxian has a couple of options here. One is to accept, kindly, that he and his friend can't be friends any more because of religion. In this option, in order to preserve his friend's comfortable sense of being right, he would have to tacitly accept that he himself is bad in some way, and allow his friend to keep having his value system, while walking away from him.  

The other choice is to hit so hard that he makes his friend feel really, really bad, and potentially rocks him off of his comfortable foundation. In the short term, the friendship breaks, but if it forces him to actually question his value system, it might lay the groundwork for a new, more accepting friendship.  Anyone who is queer with an anti-queer-religious best friend is probably familiar with this dilemma.

Wei Wuxian chooses the second option, and goes all in from the first moment, calling Lan Wangji "Lan Er Gongzi" and then upgrading to "Hanguang Jun" and even bowing. If it's possible to bow sarcastically, that's what Wei Wuxian is doing. Then he meets his eyes and sticks his chin out, essentially saying "how do you like them apples?"

(more after the cut!)

Lan Wangji's feelings are probably hurt, but he's too busy being mad to show it, and he goes straight to grilling Wei Wuxian, asking him about the killing, the talismans, and giving up the sword, all while Jiang Cheng stands by and wonders what the fuck is happening. 

Lan Wangji is making a fundamental error here, which is he's speaking as if he's an authority instead of as a peer. Wei Wuxian has only ever accepted one authority in his entire life, and that was Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng is the one who, for a change, is approaching as a worried friend, while Lan Wangji approaches as if he has the right to call Wei Wuxian to account.  

Wei Wuxian won't answer his questions and is getting in his face, provoking him in a very quiet and controlled way, and Lan Wangji responds by just being really aggressive. It's interesting to see Wei Wuxian completely mastering his emotions while Lan Wangji is completely....not.  Wei Wuxian pushes harder, saying he's being rude, saying he's being a bad friend.  Which doesn't make any difference to Lan Wanji, who keeps pressing for an answer while Jiang Cheng wonders what the fuck is happening.

Come to Gusu

Wei Wuxian says he already explained, that it's complicated, it will take time to explain, so then Lan Wangji makes the utterly dumbassed demand that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him to explain it. What, exactly, is his plan? Bring Wei Wuxian to Gusu and have Lan Xichen (at the very least) and probably also Lan Qiren help him to convince Wei Wuxian that resentful cultivation is bad? How is that likely to work out? Let's have our own flashback, to that classroom interaction that led to the punishment in the library.

Lan Qiren: How will you make sure the resentful energy will only listen to you and not harm others? [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] Wei Wuxian: I haven't figured that out yet ["details," as OP's dad used to say] Lan Qiren: If you did, the cultivation world would not allow your existence [i.e. we, the Lan Clan of Gusu, will kill your ass]

Lan Wangji probably doesn't think he's threatening Wei Wuxian with death by inviting him to Gusu, but he kinda is, if Lan Qiren was serious back then.  Lan Wangji is so upset and fearful that he's not really thinking clearly at this point. He loves Wei Wuxian and he's certain that cultivating with resentful energy will destroy him. [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian]  But Wei Wuxian is beyond fear. He's already been destroyed once.

Wei Wuxian rips on Gusu and then says, in a super-provocative way, that he prefers Yunmeng, which prompts Lan Wangji to say "don't joke around" as angrily as possible. 

This part of the interaction always confuses me because...shouldn't he prefer Yunmeng? He's actually from there and lives there and belongs there and stuff? He's just saying "I think I'll go with my brother" yet WWX and LWJ both act like he said he'd rather go to Demon City.

Lan Wangji takes a big step forward and Jiang Cheng blocks him while Wei Wuxian continues to act unperturbed and puzzled while holding his demon flute out in between them. 

Finally, FINALLY, Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Zhan, and asks him a serious question: What do you really want. Lan Wangji calms down for a second--although he keeps leaning into Jiang Cheng's sword block--and gets to the point, which is that the unorthodox path is dangerous, and harmful to his temperament.  

Kill one turtle together and you think you're the boss of me

So, these dudes are talking about 2 different levels of unacceptable cultivation, in this episode and the next few. Netflix translates these as "wicked tricks" and "crafty tricks," which both sound absolutely ludicrous in English, so I'm going to use my own preferred terms, going forward.  

I think what they are calling "Wicked Tricks," which includes spirit snatching and feeding people to the murder turtle on purpose in order to harvest their resentment could be translated as Heresy--adhering to a forbidden belief or practice; standing in opposition to Orthodoxy.  

Edit: After rewatching Episode 35, in which Nie Huaisang explains why their whole blade thing doesn’t count as “wicked tricks,” I’ve changed my mind about what to call this. NHS says that “wicked tricks” specifically involve the use of humans & human spirits (killing, sacrificing, etc.). Which means Necromancy is probably the better term for this particular type of cultivation, although it is still (also) Heresy. 

"Crafty Tricks," which is using resentful energy to raise and control already-dead people (ghosts and zombies) as well as just generally using resentment for basic stuff like beating Jin Zixuan's ass, could be translated as Heterodoxy--deviating from the accepted belief or practice, but not to the point of complete opposition.

Wei Wuxian laughs while Lan Wangji tries to be convincing, but since Lan Wangji is just repeating what he's been taught, he's not making much headway. Instead of saying "there's no exception throughout history" he could have, instead, gone with his own actual observations, such as "you are acting like a sadistic prick" or "you seem amazingly miserable" or "you aren't hugging your brother, what the fuck is that about?" But no.

Wei Wuxian responds to the charge of heresy by saying nuh-uh, and explains his methods, sort of, while going back to calling him Lan Er Gongzi. Lan Er Gongzi responds by actually literally yelling at him, and saying he's not allowed to decide for himself about what he's doing, as if the words "allowed to" have ever meant a goddamn thing to Wei Wuxian.

Temperament

At this point Wei Wuxian is done. He goes and gets right up in Lan Wangji's face and sticks a metaphorical knife right in his heart, smiling as he does it. "How do others know my temperament?" he asks; "and why should it be their concern?" i.e. you are not in my heart. 

This makes Lan Wangji so mad he calls Wei Wuxian "Wei Wuxian" for possibly the only time in the show, and he also flashes a whole bunch of angry teeth. (Gifset here). In a callback to the JFM-YZY fight back in Lotus Pier before the war, Wei Wuxian just calmly says "Lan Wangji" back at him, and then tells him to go fuck himself.

Jiang Cheng still doesn't understand what the fuck is happening, but this is a sentiment he understands, so he also tells Lan Wangji to go fuck himself, reminding him that Wei Wuxian is Jiang clan property and it's not the Lans' place to discipline him. Adding "and I'm not going to discipline him any way, look how good he is at killing people!"

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue to stare into each others' eyes from a distance so close that it really should lead to making out, but they are both much too angry for that. 

Wei Wuxian is as cold as we ever see him, smiling as he silently confirms: I do not belong to you. Lan Wangji glares back, his anger maybe finally giving way, a little bit, to being hurt.

Finish Him!

Wen Chao picks this moment to wake up and crawl over to the trio, begging Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to save his life, since he presumably knows it's pointless to beg Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian turns around and gives him the EXACT SAME dead-eyed smile he just gave Lan Wangji, and kicks him.

Then he tells Lan Wangji to please leave so he and his brother can finish torturing this dude to death, and caps it with an official Jiang Clan eye roll.  

Lan Wangji, poor bb, just throws in the towel, and turns and leaves, the anger finally starting to leave his face and be replaced with something else...chagrin, maybe? Or maybe just softer anger, for the moment. 

After he's out of sight Wei Wuxian turns and looks after him sadly, all of the cruelty and hardness gone from his expression, while Wen Chao says "forgive me,"  possibly voicing what Wei Wuxian is thinking.

Lan Wangji walks out the front gate, troubled, and hears Wen Chao scream. He stops and replays the most pointed part of the fight in his head - the part where Wei Wuxian asked him, "who do you think you are?" Lan Wangji went into the fight believing he was completely right and was entitled to judge Wei Wuxian, but he's come out of it with his certainty shaken. 

Family Time

The Yunmeng brothers go to the ancestral shrine in Lotus Pier even though the whole "reclaiming Lotus Pier" scene doesn't happen until Episode 24. So apparently they just kind of sneak into the the shrine, and then sneak back out. Or, you know, continuity error.  Anyway Wei Wuxian is nothing if not adept at sneaking around death-related places.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng bow and offer incense. It's nice that the Wens didn't fuck up everybody's name plaques when they were in control of the place...or the tassels, candles, etc. 

Wei Wuxian quietly tells Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian that he did what they asked--taking care of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli--and they can rest now. Nosy parker Jiang Cheng wants to know what he's saying, but Wei Wuxian just changes the subject. 

They talk about going to Qinghe for the final combat of the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Wuxian says that's why he returned, which...dude, you can't even pretend you came back to be with your loved ones? Ouch. Jiang Cheng doesn't really react to that, but he's happy when Wei Wuxian says he wants to see Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian wants to know if she's ok and if she's mad at him, and Jiang Cheng says wait and see, because direct answers are not the Jiang Clan way.

Jiang Yanli is helping tend to the wounded, and we see her telling a particularly fussy wounded dude to suck it up and stop complaining. 

When Wei Wuxian shows up she totally stops paying attention to the wounded dude so that she can smile at Wei Wuxian. 

He looks back at her tearfully, briefly managing to smile but then just trying to hold it together. He has been to hell and back, and doing his very best to hide it, but when he sees the person who loves him most--the person who will NOT spend 20 minutes yelling at him as soon as they see him--he starts to crack open.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty Seven

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 6th, 1986

Remy wasn’t entirely sure what his mother was glaring at the TV for. He was watching it play some boring news station or another, and there were a lot of people shouting, throwing things and picking fights, while rainbows and dozens of flags with different colors flew around in the background. His mother cursed under her breath, but Remy heard her.

Why was she so angry? Usually she didn’t get this mad, even if people were fighting. “They’re clearly wrong, why are they fighting against the truth?” his mother muttered.

Fight against the truth? Remy didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. What did rainbow flags and fighting have anything to do with truth?

  June 11th, 2001

Remy’s first impression of Pride was that it was incredibly overwhelming. Remy’s second impression of Pride was that it was making Emile let loose, something Remy wasn’t sure was even possible until this point. Remy’s third impression of Pride was that it. Was. Awesome. Like, completely off-the-chain awesome.

People were surrounding them on all sides, some with pride flags, others with pins and badges, and some dressed like they were just going out on the town for a day. But all of them were happy, and laughing, and joking, and Remy wasn’t sure he had ever encountered so much positive energy in one place before.

Emile was standing next to him, beaming. He was currently looking around, for what, Remy wasn’t sure. Remy just hung next to him, unsure of where to go. He definitely enjoyed this, but he was so completely out of his element.

“Come on, girl, anywhere you want to go first?” Emile asked with a grin.

Remy’s cheeks dusted pink as he shuffled on his feet. He was wearing more feminine clothing today, his reasoning being that no one at a pride parade would care about whether or not he dressed masculine. He could probably go full drag and no one would bat an eye. But still, Emile calling him “girl” did something to his emotions that he couldn’t describe. “I’ve never been to a pride parade before,” he said. “I don’t know what there is to go to.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Emile said with a grin. “Why don’t we just look around at some of the stalls?”

“Okay,” Remy said, following Emile over.

He was surprised by how much of a social butterfly Emile was being. He was waving and high-fiving anyone in the general vicinity, yelling, “Girl, same!” whenever someone showed off bisexual colors, and generally putting himself out there in a way that Remy had only done anonymously in clubs before. Here, he supposed things were a little anonymous too, but it was still in broad daylight, where people could see them.

Emile walked up to one of the stalls, chirping, “Hi!” to the people on the other side.

Remy looked at the banner on their table and saw it was something for Catholics who were LGBT, and Remy inwardly shook his head fondly, because Emile wasn’t the most devout, but he did occasionally go to Mass. Of course he’d like people who were affirming in his faith. Remy looked around the other stalls curiously as Emile talked. He wasn’t really religious himself; he had too many bad experiences with his family’s church growing up to really put any trust in a higher power. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about which denominations might be accepting.

Emile took a little pamphlet from one of the people and came over to Remy. “See any churches you like?” he asked.

“Not really religious,” Remy shrugged. “Bad experiences.”

Emile winced. “Yeah, understandable. Should we move further in?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Remy agreed.

They walked down the street and Remy looked around. There were a few big name corporations advertising here, but not very many. There were stalls for small book companies, and...he paused. There was one for a queer comics startup! “Emile!” he exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “Comics!”

Emile laughed and followed Remy over to the stall as Remy looked at the different illustrations they had. So many cool superheroes, and then some more realistic-fiction looking stories, and some high fantasy and sci-fi was scattered in there too. “Woah,” he breathed.

“You like comics?” the woman behind the stall asked with a small smile.

“Like is an understatement,” Remy said, eyes never leaving the pictures. “Are you guys selling these?”

“These comics are purely for display,” the woman said. “But we are starting up subscriptions as we’re gaining traction. We’re in a couple comic stores around, where do you live?”

“Uh...” Remy blinked, forcing himself into the present. “Fairview.”

The woman nodded. “We’re in the comics store there, yeah. That’s about as far out as we’ve gotten, though.”

“Hey, if it means I get to read you guys, then it’s fine by me!” Remy exclaimed.

The woman laughed and offered him a bookmark. “Here’s a little information on us, and our company name, of course. I hope you like what you read from us.”

“Definitely,” Remy said.

He was still starry-eyed and Emile gently dragged him away from the stall. “They have queer comics, Emile! Like, I know there’s some queer characters in bigger comics, but these stories...they have main characters who aren’t straight! Can you imagine?!”

Emile laughed. “Hopefully one day they’ll have cartoons like that, too. Then maybe I can understand what you’re feeling a little better.”

Remy was almost hyperventilating. “Pride is amazing,” he said. “I love this. Can we come back next year?!”

“We definitely can,” Emile laughed.

They continued to walk, Emile constantly chatting and greeting people still. Remy got a few nods, and he shyly returned them, holding onto Emile’s hand.

“Hey, girl! In the leather jacket!” a voice called from behind them.

Remy turned in surprise as another person who was wearing a full-on dress in light blue, pink, and white walked over. “I really dig your outfit, girl! You look fabulous!”

“Oh! Uh, th-thank you,” Remy stammered out, nowhere near his usual confident self.

“She and her pronouns for me. You?” she asked.

“Uh...” Remy hesitated. Why was he hesitating? What was so hard about this? “He and him, I guess?”

The woman looked him over closely. “It’s okay, girl, we all have to figure ourselves out in our own time. He and him work for you, that’s great, but if you ever want to switch it up, know that you can do that, you know?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah,” Remy said. “I...I don’t think I’m transgender, but uh...I don’t always like being called sir, you know? Sometimes it’s fine, others it’s just...suffocating.”

“Gender roles are suffocating girl, I getcha,” she said, nodding. “Nice to meet you. Tell your cutie of a boyfriend that I like his enthusiasm.”

Remy smiled and nodded, and she moved on. Emile turned to look at him. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know,” Remy said. “But she liked your enthusiasm.”

Emile laughed. “Oh! Well, that’s sweet of her!”

“She also called you a cutie, in case you missed it,” Remy said. “And she’s not wrong.”

Emile laughed, blushing. “Well, I don’t see what either of you see in me, but if enough people say I’m cute, then I guess I’m doomed to be cute forever, huh?”

“Not forever,” Remy said. “And some people might find you hot. I like it when you wear those skinny jeans. Those look really good on you.”

“Remy!” Emile hissed. “That’s not helpful!”

Remy laughed. “Oh, come on, Emile! You know it’s all in good fun!”

“Do I, though?” Emile asked.

“I should hope so,” Remy said. “After all, you’re the one who jokingly called me ‘hot’ first.”

“You can’t prove anything,” Emile said. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who thought of me as hot first.”

“Yeah? I thought you were hot the day I dropped out of college and saw you in those skinny jeans for the first time, Emile. I’m not talking serious, I’m talking jokes. Get with the program,” Remy teased.

Emile snorted before clapping a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “That early? Really?” he asked.

Remy shrugged. “What can I say? I know how to make anyone look good.”

“Shut up!” Emile laughed, starting to walk away.

“You know I love you, Emile,” Remy said. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you look hot, because I love you either way.”

“And I, you,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s nose. “Which is why I argue you don’t need that leather jacket everywhere you go.”

“Excuse you, that’s not to make me look hot, that’s part of my aesthetic!” Remy protested.

“Either way it’s unnecessary, Rem,” Emile shrugged.

Remy pouted. “You’re no fun,” he declared.

“Well, I do try,” Emile said. “It’s my mission to make sure you know I’m a stick in the mud, after all.”

“But you’re my stick in the mud,” Remy said.

“Oh, you better believe it. I’m not leaving you for anything in the world!” Emile said.

Remy laughed and his stomach held butterflies. “You mean that?”

Emile paused. “Yeah, of course I do,” he eventually said. “Barring some unfortunate accident, a messy fight, or any more drama from any sides, I don’t see myself leaving you.”

“Like, never?” Remy asked. He didn’t know why he was pressing this issue, but something inside him just wanted to be absolutely certain that Emile was certain.

Emile looked down at the ground, shuffling on his feet before he kissed Remy softly, sweetly, and with so much adoration Remy was practically drowning in it. A few people around them cheered or whistled, but Remy paid them no mind. His only focus was Emile, when he pulled apart, resting his forehead against Remy’s as he murmured, “Like, never. Never ever.”

Remy wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he blurted, “That’s gay, Emile.”

Emile laughed. “I love you too, Rem. Where do you want to go next?”

“Uh...food place, maybe? I could use a snack, if not lunch,” Remy said with a shrug.

“To the food trucks!” Emile exclaimed, causing Remy to laugh as they walked hand-in-hand.

Emile swung their hands lightly forwards and backwards as they walked, and Remy grinned. Emile, even when somewhat muted and calmer at pride, was still incredibly happy, and bubbly, and alive. He loved it when Emile seemed to come to life in a whole new way that Remy hadn’t seen before.

“What are you thinking about?” Emile lightly teased.

“You,” Remy said honestly. “You’re just...so alive. You’re completely in your element, and you’re so friendly and happy. You’re like a puppy experiencing grass for the first time. And it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, shut up,” Emile said, blushing. “I just really like Pride.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Remy said, nodding. “I don’t know why, it just seems to be something you’d like.”

Emile laughed and kissed Remy’s cheek. “It’s pretty great to not worry about PDA.”

“True,” Remy agreed, taking half a step towards Emile.

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand. “I’m super glad you came with me.”

“I’m super glad I came with you too,” Remy said. “Because I’m pretty sure Pride wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Emile grinned. “I mean, I’m sure you could have some fun without me...”

“But why would I want to?” Remy asked. “You make Pride fun...or more fun at any rate.”

“You mean that?” Emile asked.

“Of course,” Remy said. “I’m not sure I would want to go at all without you. You just make it...special.”

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand again as they approached the food trucks. “You flatter me,” Emile said.

“I’m speaking the truth,” Remy said. “Don’t sell yourself short, Emile.”

“Come on, what’s so fascinating about me that I make Pride more interesting?”

“You come out of your shell, like, entirely,” Remy said. “I’ve never seen you be so comfortable around a group of certified strangers before.”

“Well, the fact that I know they all at the very least support the fact that you’re gay and I’m bisexual and we’re dating helps,” Emile said simply. “I can go up to people and talk about you without having to just use your name and hope people assume I’m referring to you as a girlfriend.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah, I know you’ve felt weird about me visiting you at work because of that. Most everyone at my jobs know except for the managers, so as long as we don’t do obvious PDA we’re usually in the clear. But not having to worry about that at all is...”

“Freeing?” Emile offered.

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “It’s definitely freeing.”

Emile grinned. “Aw, Remy, you like me!”

“Shut up!” Remy laughed. “You knew this for literal months!”

“You like me! You like me!” Emile repeated, practically bouncing up and down.

Remy sighed and rolled his eyes, but inside, he was smiling. When they first met, he would never have thought he could have ever made Emile as happy as he was right now, let alone enjoy it. But he was never so happy to be wrong.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 5

The Admiration of Kagami Tsurugi Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Admiration of Kagami Tsurugi

Notes: The kids are gonna be alright.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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

Luka and Adrien’s eyes met after the girls left, and they couldn’t keep from giggling themselves stupid for a bit.

“Thanks for doing this, Luka,” Adrien said when he eventually caught his breath again. “I mean, I know it puts you out a bit.”

That received a shrug. “I really don’t mind. The liar has to be stopped, and if it keeps her from hurting you more, all the better.” He sighed softly. “I wish I’d been able to protect Marinette from her.”

Adrien nodded. “I didn’t expect Lila to get her expelled.”

“She threatened Marinette, as well, don’t forget.”

“What?” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “She what?”

Luka’s eyes widened a bit. “Marinette didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Adrien thought back on Marinette’s behavior, how she’d started to shrink into herself since Lila had returned to class. She always seemed on edge, jumpy anymore—even before the near-expulsion. If she’d been threatened, no wonder…

“When?” he asked after a moment, letting his head fall back on the sofa cushion.

“She said something about a blinding napkin? I didn’t really understand the context, but…”

He winced. So it had been before he’d given her his stupid advice. He was such an idiot.

“I told her Lila wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Luka gently pushed Adrien’s legs off his lap, then pulled him into a sitting position against his side. “Hey,” he murmured. “You didn’t know. She didn’t tell you. You gave her the best advice you could with the information you had.”

“I still should have… done something. Marinette deserves that much.”

“She isn’t one to demand that sort of thing.” Luka patted his shoulder. “Especially since Lila makes you uncomfortable, and she’s not blind to that.”

Adrien grimaced. “She keeps… touching me. Like she owns me. It’s creepy and invasive and I don’t like it.”

The hand moved away from him then back, like Luka wasn’t sure if this qualified.

“Not you, or Mari, or Kagami. I’m even okay with Chloé. But not her,” he clarified, leaning his head against Luka’s shoulder.

Luka’s hand settled back on Adrien’s shoulder. “Good. The goal is to make you comfortable, not make it worse.”

This was of course the moment Jagged Stone chose to walk back in. “Aw, aren’t you two cute? Time to call the salon, then, get done before the girls get back, yeah? You have a date with dye!”

Luka and Adrien met each other’s gaze and started giggling again.

--

Kagami watched Marinette fidget, a habit she knew from prior interactions was an indication of the girl’s nerves. She often couldn’t help but be impressed by her friend, and this was no different. Clearly Marinette had taken charge to come up with a plan to help Adrien—and had not taken advantage of the situation to become his fake girlfriend.

Which, actually, if Kagami considered, made sense—she would not wish to do that, either. It would be more painful than anything. Marinette had approached the situation wisely.

She was further surprised that they had decided upon Luka as the faux boyfriend, as he seemed to be courting Marinette.

But she had put Adrien above herself, as a true friend would. Truly, Kagami had learned much from her about friendship in their short acquaintance, and she was certain she’d learn more as time went on.

The limo pulled up outside a store that had outfits that looked far more intense than Kagami usually considered viable for her clothing, but in the case of Adrien’s rebellion would likely serve perfectly. She slid out and offered Marinette a hand getting out.

“You’re very kind to help Adrien through this situation,” she noted, hoping to put her at ease. “And I thank you for thinking to include me. I haven’t ever had fun like this.”

The smile she received was almost blinding, and Marinette’s nervousness seemed to dissipate. “I’m glad you’re here, Kagami. It’s always more fun to do a makeover with friends.”

Penny entered the store ahead of them, and Kagami followed with Marinette in tow.

“To be honest, I am not good with choosing clothing,” Kagami admitted. “As a result I often simply wear my school uniform.”

That earned another brilliant smile. “I’d be happy to go shopping with you sometime. Or, I make a lot of my own clothing, and it’d be fun to design something for you.”

Kagami offered a smile in return. “I would be honored to model your designs, Marinette. In the meantime, I look forward to learning as you pick out Adrien’s new look.”

Marinette flitted around the store, choosing several pairs of black jeans, some pre-worn with holes, others with strategic rips or even chains. As the shirt was already taken care of, she looked at different jacket options, eventually choosing one which zipped at a slight diagonal and had a larger silver zipper and fittings. She also selected a black zip-up hoodie with green trim, similar to Luka’s.

Eventually, she made her way to the footwear, seeming torn between a couple of options. Marinette turned to her, holding up two styles. Both were black leather boots that would reach about halfway up Adrien’s calf; the first laced and also had five rather large buckles, and the second not only laced and had three buckles, but were further accented by chains above and below the buckles held in place by fixtures shaped like silver-colored brass knuckles.

“Which do you think, Kagami?”

She was glad Marinette was including her in the process. “Aesthetically, they both seem to have the desired rebellious tone. However, the ones with chains seem a bit impractical, and perhaps too much.”

Marinette nodded, setting aside the pair Kagami had rejected—her opinion, as inexpert as it was, had been valued.

They ended the trip near the jewelry, looking at the various options. A jade-green beaded bracelet caught Kagami’s eye, and when she pointed it out to Marinette it was added to the pile. Marinette found a leather bracelet with a Jagged Stone logo which was also added to the pile.

At the earrings, Marinette paused.

“I know he has pierced ears, since he modeled some of my earrings, but he doesn’t normally wear any…”

Kagami nodded. “Is that not reason for him to do so now?”

“Good point!” Marinette graced her with another smile. “I’m so glad you came with.”

They worked together, and Marinette laughed, her voice ringing out like bells, when she found a pair of black studs with a neon green Chat Noir paw on them. Kagami didn’t quite understand the joke.

“He originally was going to choose Chat Noir’s colors,” she explained. “I guess Chat represents rebellion to him.”

“Ah, so then these are perfect—they allow him to stick with his initial idea a bit.”

Penny was waiting for them, chatting with the clerk, and pulled out Jagged Stone’s credit card without even looking at the price.

“Didn’t take you two long,” she commented as their items were being packaged. “I doubt they’ve finished the dye job yet.”

“Marinette had a vision,” Kagami responded. “She is quite efficient.”

She blushed at the compliment and grabbed two of the bags. Kagami grabbed the third, and they left the store, ready to return to the hotel for the rest of the plan.

[kariachi]

Oh look, some more fic for the reboot/pern crossover. Not sure where this goes, but it’s here.

Kevin has friends, take 2, electric boogaloo

~~

Kevin hadn’t come to the Weyr planning to make friends, which was something he would look back on as an adult and laugh at. After all, there’d always been the very good odds that a solid portion of the other candidates would essentially become family, so the smart move would’ve been to try to actively pursue positive relations with them.

Smart as Kevin was, he had never been all that bright.

As it was the only reason he ended up interacting positively with anyone was because he and Moiac had noticed each other pursuing privacy when it came to bathing and changing, getting touchy when the other outsider candis made the sort’ve meanspirited, bigoted jokes the weyrbrats had made sure Kevin’d only had to punch one person for, and banded together. Then La-ache had been Searched and not only been perfectly forward with themselves but also laughed at the ‘stupid cis people’ jokes the pair exchanged beneath their breath. Then Nafula, being the last of the youngest set of queer kids, had dropped herself down with them during lunch and refused to go away.

It was very different from anything Kevin had dealt with in the past, where he’d never really had a social group. The closest he’d come was sharing a school with Ben, and occasionally hanging out with him and Gwen. This was something entirely different. While they all had their own interests, opinions, and dreams, they all had the same goal to work towards and help each other with. He enjoyed having them around, especially when he found himself missing having his other friends around. Especially Ben. Mostly Ben.

Leatherworking sucked.

“How,” Nafula asked, her own work set aside while she watched Kevin work in blatant amusement, “can a guy who could sculpt himself in five minutes, and build a pocket watch with nothing but a full trashcan and a pair of chopsticks, not sew?”

“Some of us were busy learning important things!” Either his stitching was off or his cuts were, and Kevin wasn’t sure which. He also was pretty close to throwing the whole strap at a wall.

“This is important,” La-ache pointed out, as if the Candidatemaster hadn’t drilled it in four times already, “unless you want to die.”

“Rather than deal with this any longer? Sign me up.”

While buying their shoes and leathers was alright, a dragonrider or wherhandler made the straps with which they’d be held firmly to their partner themselves. It was one of the many responsibilities that came with the job, making and maintaining your own equipment. The basics were taught to candidates both to ensure they’d come away with some skill if they didn’t Impress and because tending to a young dragon, especially during a Pass, wasn’t exactly conducive to learning a craft. And by the time the dragons reached a point where they didn’t need most of their rider’s time, they’d be learning to fly and the straps were soon to be needed. Best to get the most error-prone portion of the process done in the calmer candidacy period.

Especially if you were like Kevin and apparently an absolute failure at it.

“You are not dying,” Moiac said, eyes never leaving her work. It was coming along fine. “At least not until you’ve paid back that money you owe me.” Kevin threw up his hands.

“Can I get no relief?” he groaned, Nafula breaking into snickers across the table.

“I mean, you really shouldn’t have been making bets in the first place,” she said. “Pretty sure that’s one of the rules.”

“Yeah,” La-ache added with a wry smile, “rule four- no candidate shall have fun. Ever. Lucky you both didn’t get thrown out over it.”

“Why do they have to work us so hard, anyway,” Moiac asked. “I mean the eggs could hatch at any time, and we’re liable to be too tired to get to the Sands!”

“It’s to keep us out of trouble,” Nafula explained with all the self-certainty that came with being the only weyrbrat about them. “Besides, if they get us used to all but collapsing into bed straight after dinner it’ll be a habit when we have baby dragons. I mean, can you picture the damage that would happen, if they don’t break Kevin of his troublemaking before he’s got an impressionably young dragon?” Said youth blew a raspberry at her while Moiac burst into giggles. Nafula preened at that. La-ache just calmly set aside his finished strap- not as good as Moiac’s was looking, but at least better than Kevin’s utter disaster.

“I, for one,” they said, “and looking forward to watching the Weyr burn, if just out of morbid curiosity.” That got the other two going, even as Moiac threw Kevin’s strap at the older teen’s head.

“Hey! I was working on that”

“Oh it’s not like it was good for anything else.” Chuckling, La-ache handed the strap back to Kevin, who snatched it from them and tossed it on the table hard enough it bounced.

“I hate leatherworking,” he said, “I hate this Weyr, and burning is too good for you people.”

“Of course not,” Moiac said, and Nafula added on a

“It’s dipped in molten gold or nothing at all.” While La-ache patted his shoulder bemusedly. These three just did not take him seriously. The Tennysons did, at least a little, but these guys? Not even. Kevin blamed it on the fact they’d all seen him naked at least once.

Stupid communal baths.

“You’re horrible friends, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Nafula said with a shrug and a grin, “but we’re the best ones you’ve got.”

And she wasn’t even really wrong. At least right now.

“Give it time. Once I Impress I’m dropping the lot of you.”

“Uh-huh.” Nobody seemed convinced, La-ache doubly so. “As long as you let us help you get this leatherworking thing down first.” This time Kevin’s raspberry went their way, though it was quickly lost in the bustle as the girls returned to their work and La-ache helped him start his work over.

Yeah, someday he was really going to kick himself for not pursuing this sooner.

[featherymalignancy]

You Are My Nothing: A Clace Angstfest

summary: Clary is a sophomore coping with the death of her mother. Jace poses a student to report her movements back to the anxious Council, who is desperate to find out if she is a pawn in her father's game. Despite the their directive that he not make contact, Jace develops a fascination with her that blossoms into something which threatens to destroy them both

tags: @keladrym99thefangirl @urbisie

link to part previous chapters: Part I

If you enjoy, please reblog!

 Part II:

Clary stood in her cramped and overly-decorated dorm room, a curling wand in one hand in a cheap vodka cranberry in the other. Wincing, she took an ambitious swallow of the latter before setting it down and turning back to the mirror just someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" she called, glancing nervously down at the drink on her desk with the wand still wound in her coppery hair.

"Residence Life. The gig is up, Fray. Come out slowly with your hands up."

"It's open, Simon," Maia called in a bored voice for her bed, taking a sip of her own horrid drink before passing it to her girlfriend Jordan, who lay on the bed next to her.

"Do you have it?" Clary said excitedly when Simon entered, grinning.

"I have it," he affirmed. "Do you want to see?"

"Of course!" she said, setting down the wand and extending her hand.

Simon reached into his back pocket and drew out an id, handing it to her.

"Eric and I already tried ours and they work. This year is going to be so money."

Clary looked down at the Arizona driver's license with her own name and picture on it before her eyes slid to the birthdate.

"Twenty five?" she said, laughing. "No one is going to believe I'm twenty five!"

"With the right outfit they will," Jordan said.

"With the right outfit they won't care," Maia amended, tossing a lace bodysuit onto Clary's bed, which was already littering with clothes and bits of jewelry. "Wear this."

Clary held it up, and Simon laughed before being silenced by her glare.

"You're joking, right?" she said, though she was already turning to the mirror and holding it up.

"You have small tits," Maia said, taking the lollypop she'd been sucking on out of her mouth before taking a hearty swig of her watermelon vodka drink. "You'll be fine!"

"What do you think?" Clary said, turning to Simon. "Too much?"

"No," Simon protested. "Don't do 't treat me like your gay best friend. You know I have no idea."

"I found that comment offensive," Maia said lightly, smirk widening when Simon stuttered.

"It's hot, Fray," she continued. "C'mon, live a little!"

"I won't be living at all if my stepdad ever catches me wearing something like this," she said, imagining Luke's disapproving frown.

"Well good thing he doesn't party in the Village, then," Jordan said, and Maia laughed.

"The colour is nice," Simon added lamely, and Jordan and Maia both laughed again.

"Well done, Queer Eye! Now get out here so Clary can change."

Simon rolled his eyes. Clary and Maia had been roommates for a year now, and he was accustomed to, if not totally accepting of, being treated like this.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," he said. "Please tell me you'll be ready by then."

"She will be if you stop distracting her," Jordan pointed out, and Simon rolled his eyes and left, letting the door click shut behind him.

Clary tossed the id onto her purse before stripping off her leggings, tee-shirt, and bra and taking the jumpsuit Maia had given her.

"So any hot guys you like this year?" Maia asked as Clary shimmied into the bodysuit. "You love life is so tragic."

"Or how about hot girls?" Jordan added.

"You two are the hottest girls I'll ever need," Clary said, struggling into high waisted jeans now. She had to admit it did look good.

"That's sweet," Maia said. "But evasive. Give us the dirt, Fray."

Clary considered, turning back to the mirror to finish curling her hair.

"Hot guys? Of course. Hot guys I like? No."

"I think I'm too gay to understand the distinction," Jordan admitted. "What's the difference? They'll all just meat sacks anyway; honestly, how anyone could want to date a man, I'll never understand."

"Someday I'll explain it to you," Maia offered, patting her hand and making Jordan frown. She and Maia had been dating seriously for a while now, but before Jordan, Maia had mostly dated guys, and she contended that she fell in love with personalities, not body parts. "And you're still evading the question, Clary."

Clary rolled her eyes, giving her curls and artful tousle before stepping into thick heeled booties.

"I mean of course there are tons of attractive guys around, just none I'm specifically interested in. For instance, there is fratstar Adonis in my—"

"Adonis!" Maia interrupted saucily. "Tell us more!"

"Nothing to tell," Clary said. "He's literally always staring at me, but he hasn't said a single word to me all semester."

"Creepy," Jordan said, as if Clary's anecdote had somehow confirmed her theory about the male sex being worthless.

"Annoying," Clary amended. "It's surprisingly hard to focus when someone is always looking at you."

"Maybe he's just shy," Maia pointed out, and Clary gave a bitter laugh

"He's not."

"How do you know? You've never even spoken to him."

"He has that look," Clary said in explanation.

"Look?" Jordan and Maia asked, both rising and finishing their drinks now.

"You know, 'I'm a Ferrari, wanna take me for a spin?'"

Maia laughed and Jordan gagged.

"Today, Fray!" Simon called through the door, and Maia laughed again.

"Keep your panties on, Lewis, we're coming!"

"Finally, we get to have some fun," Isabelle said. "Which one?"

She held up two equally skimpy dresses.

"You went out last night," Alec pointed out in a sour voice. "And who cares? Let's just go already."

"Technically it's Jace's turn to babysit her, so if you're going to be a pill about it, you can go without me."

Jace gave a snort of amusement as she huffed past Alec and stalked back to her own small bedroom.

"And you?" Alec demanded, whirling on Jace.

"I'm ready," Jace said, catching sight of his reflection and admiring himself in it. "I'm always ready."

"Not you, too," Alec said in a growl as Jace ran a hand through his pomaded hair, assuring it was still all perfectly in place.

"Iz is right, you know," Jace said. "It's not good to be this wound up all the time."

Alec rolled his shoulders in irritation.

"Let's just focus on the mission."

"I doubt the Circle is going to be lying in wait at a college dive. And look on the bright side: if they are, you'll probably get to stab someone."

Jace tossed Alec a small dagger he tucked into the interior pocket of his leather jacket. They'd be instructed not to wear gear and to cover their marks while they were undercover, but even directives from the Clave hadn't been enough to get Alec out of black.

"Why don't you relax a little, hm?" Jace asked, bracing Alec's shoulder and giving a manly but affectionate squeeze.

Alec's eyes glittered as they met Jace's, and he quickly shrugged out of his touch.

"Today, Iz," he called instead, using the opportunity to turn away from Jace. "Please."

As if on cue, Isabelle's door swung open to reveal she'd donned a new outfit, which was little more than a bustier and hot pants.

Alec groaned, eliciting a grin from Isabelle.

"Love me as I am, brother darling," she purred, raising her eyebrows at Jace and making him laugh.

"We ready?" he asked, slipping into a slim bomber jacket.

"What's got you so excited?" Isabelle asked, and Jace laughed off her keen observation.

"I'm just ready for a drink."

"We shouldn't be drin—"

"Oh enough already, Alec!" Isabelle snapped. "Besides, we're supposed to be blending in, remember?"

They arrived at Artica Bar in Midtown about five minutes later, all three looking around for Clarissa. It was a sleek pub on the East side about fifteen minutes by train from the Village, but it was famous among NYU students for being lax about ids, and had quickly become the year's hot spot. A hypnotic pop song was blaring when they entered the crowded space, and the worn oak floorboards were already slick with cheap beer.

Jace grit his teeth, knowing it would ruin the leather of his new chukka boots. It was annoying enough that he had to constantly dress like a Mundane; he preferred not to look like a slob as well.

They were surrounded be a sea of nubile girls and fresh-faced guys, all of whom eyed each other hungrily. Jace's eyes flitted over the banquet with minimal interest. There were some beautiful girls here, no denying it, but it was nothing he hadn't seen and had a million times already. Besides, he was a hunter, born and bred, and it was the pursuit he craved. Except for Isabelle, there had never been a girl he'd liked better after getting to know her, and she was like his sister, so that didn't even really count.

The rest, whatever substance lay beyond the winning, wasn't meant for him. Jace's father had meticulously broken and reforged him, hammering away weakness the way a smith hammered impurities from hot steel. It was this temperance than had made him the warrior he was, but he'd been irreparably damaged in the making, and to love, to be loved in return, was something he'd never experience. That was just as well; from what he could see, love only ever caused blindness and pain, anyhow. Besides, as far as consolation prizes went, sex without feelings felt like a pretty decent one to Jace.

"Do you see her yet?" Isabelle asked, craning her neck.

"No," Alec said. "How do you know she'll be here?"

"I overheard her—"

Jace wasn't listening. Instead, he watched a buxom brunette walk by and found himself errantly wondering how good it would feel to bury his face in her pillowy chest. Jace was all about a stacked upper half. She noticed him looking and flashed a coy smile, but before he could return the gesture, someone stomped on his foot. hard.

"Focus, J, c'mon!" Isabelle demanded.

"I am!' he protested, wincing slightly. "That doesn't mean I can't enjoy the scenery. You're acting like you just walked into a Circle meeting. No, worse than that; you're acting like Alec."

Alec scowled at this use of his name as an insult before turning his back to Jace.

"There she is."

Alec gestured, and Jace had to clench his jaw to keep it from hanging open. She wore a lace bodysuit cut the the breastbone, which hugged her slim frame and gave the suggestion of cleavage where there wouldn't have been otherwise. The purplish-gray of it looked good against her creamy skin and copper hair. She was wearing high waisted jean trousers on the bottom, and Jace found himself fighting the almost unconscious urge to squeeze her shapely little arse. If he'd thought she was attractive in leggings and loose sweaters, she'd become distractingly so now.

"Stop staring, Jace!" Isabelle said, trying to elbow him in the ribs this time. However, he was too quick, and he snapped her wrists into vices as they mock grappled.

"Cut it out, you two," Alec said in warning, surreptitiously drawing his stele and placing a hearing rune on his hand so he could hear Clary's conversation with the tall stranger next to her.

"Oh relax, Alec, she's just talking to a boy." Isabelle glanced over. "A cute boy."

"What are they saying?" Jace asked, forcing his voice to sound almost bored. In reality, he felt an annoying prick at watching them.

"Don't be jealous," Isabelle said in a sing-song voice, and he flashed her a foul hand gesture.

"Here," Alec said, annoyed at their banter. He handed Jace the stele, who copied the rune.

"I like your hair," the tall boy was saying.

Clarissa pushed some of it behind her ear, but it wasn't a nervous gesture; for a 19 year old, she had a refreshing self-assurity about her. No, if anything, she was trying to keep her curls out of his reach.

"Thanks," she said simply.

"Is it natural?" the boy pressed, and Jace fought not roll his eyes. In his experience, Mundane men had the worst pick-up lines.

"Yes," she said, sounding a touch annoyed.

"I don't believe you," he flirted back, either missing or choosing to ignore her tone. "You might have to prove it."

Clary wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"Ignore him, Clary," a dark-skinned girl cut in. Jace recognised her from the files as Maia Roberts, the roommate. "He's asking if the carpet match the drapes." She turned and gave the boy a look so sour it could have curdled milk. "Pro tip, Shakespeare: next time you try and woo a girl, leave her pubic hair out of it."

At this Clarissa—no, Clary, Jace corrected himself mentally—gave the boy an equally disgusted faced before stalking off after Maia.

"Wow, these Mundy guys are so charming," Alec said in a dry voice to Isabelle. "I can see why you like them so much."

She rolled her eyes. Clary was now on the far side of the lower bar, talking animatedly to Simon Lewis. She'd gone out of range of the small rune, and Jace was sorely tempted to use another even knowing they weren't discussing anything important. He found, with surprise, that he was suddenly somewhat desperate to talk to her himself. Maybe it was the bodypsuit—he was a guy, after all—or maybe it was the confidence and self-possesion she'd shown in turning down that clown who'd just hit on her, Jace didn't know. All he did know was that the Clave and it's rule could go sit on a stele, because he was done playing the perimetre; he had to go in.

"Now that she's all settled in with the Mundy boyfriend," he said in feigned disinterest. "Let's sit down and have a drink. What do you want? I'll buy the first round."

"French 75," Isabelle said, and Jace rolled his eyes. "Iz, this isn't a cocktail bar."

"Fine," she huffed, momentarily distracted as a well-muscled black man walked by. "A rum and coke, then."

"Alec?"

"Just water."

"Rum and coke and a vodka soda," Jace said with purpose, making Alec groan. "Be right back."

Jace gracefully descended the stairs towards the lower bar as Isabelle and Alec retreated to a booth at the other end of the space. Jace caught sight of Clary easily, and suppressed a grin when he say she was at the bar, alone. Arcing behind her, he casually pushed forwards, positioned himself half a foot or so behind her, and braced for impact.

Clary handed the bartender a ten and waved off charge as he handed her a gin and tonic. She took a grateful sip before turning and bumping into someone solid, sloshing some of her drink on his leather boots.

"I'm so sorry—" she began as she looked up, but the words died as she glanced at his face. "It's you."

She stared up the blonde from Art History, trying to ignore how much sexier he seemed now that she was a little drunk. He flashed her an easy, winning grin.

"I didn't realise you were looking for me, otherwise I'd have come sooner."

She pursed her lips. He had a low, smooth voice touched by just the slighest accent, like someone who'd been born abroad and raised in The States.

"Thats not what I mean," she said quickly. "I just—we have a class together."

The grin widened, his teeth almost blinding against his tan skin.

"Do we?" he queried politely, and she folded her arms across her chest, getting annoyed now. She noticed his eyes flick down to cleavage (or lack thereof) momentarily. She felt herself grow more annoyed when the gesture send a jolt of warmth to her stomach.

"You know we do," she bit out. "You're always staring at me."

He laughed to indicate she'd caught him in a lie, and she couldn't decide if the sound was alluring or irritating.

"That's kind of an ugly word, isn't it?" he said, amber eyes dancing across her face. "How about 'observing'?"

She met his flirtatious gaze with a hard one of her own.

"Alright, busted," he admitted, voice undulating slightly with the accent; her mother was from England, so Clary was very attuned to accents. "Look, it's a boring class, and I like those cartoons you draw. You're very talented."

She laughed despite herself.

"It's not that boring!"

He gave her knowing look, and she unexpectedly laughed harder.

"Oh come on. 'the difference between Venetian and Tuscan painting can be simplified in two words: colorito v. disegno'," he said in imitation of their haggard professor, making her laugh a third time. "Besides," he continued. "The only way to learn about the Renaissance Masters is to see their works in situ."

"I guess I wouldn't know," Clary admitted. "I've never been out of the country."

The boy grinned, and there was something heady and dangerous in his eyes that made Clary want to tip forward into them.

"Then maybe it's time someone showed you the world."

She didn't want to give any ground to a line like that, but the way he'd said it, as if it were simply a fact and not an innuendo, was oddly powerful. However, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing it had worked, she simply laughed instead.

"Shining, shimmering, splendid?" she shot back in what she hoped was a coy voice.

His brows knit together as he smiled in confusion.

"Sorry?"

This made her laugh. She thought everyone knew that line.

"I just mean, you basically just invited me to Europe with you, but I don't even know your name yet."

At this, his eyes glittered.

"Jace," he said, extending a slender hand. She glanced at it, the square nails neatly trimmed and the fingers unadorned, saved for a cignet ring on his index finger. It was an incongruous with the rest of his sleek look—the dark fitted jeans, the distractingly tight white t-shirt, and black suede bomber jacket—but it oddly suited him.

"Clary," she replied, sliding her hand into his. As she did, an electric bolt shot up her arm, and she had to bit back a yelp of surprise. She could feel like buzzing in her fingertips even as they let go, and it was giving her a pleasant head rush.

"Lovely to meet you, Clary," he said, eyes glittering again. Jesus, he was just so attractive. She suddenly found herself hoping with abandon that he was thinking the same thing about her. She opened her mouth to say something and salvage what remained of her pride when someone bumped into Jace from behind, sending him flying into Clary.

The drink Clary seemed to have forgotten she'd been holding splashed in rather fantastic fashion down her front as Jace fell into her, and he tried not to stare as the tonic soaked the thin material, clinging to her chest. He looked quickly away as he shred his own jacket for her to wear, but he couldn't deny a stirring in his lizard brain at seeing her pert nipples peaked through the fabric.

"I'm so sorry," he fumbled with uncharacteristic awkwardness. "Here."

"It's not your fault," she assured him, setting down the empty glass. "No, it's fine, I don't want to steal your jacket."

"Please, I insist," he said, still unsure where do look.

"I guess I don't really have a choice," she conceded with a laugh, taking the coat from him and sliding her arms through. "Thanks."

He watched her inhale the scent of it when she thought he wasn't looking, and it made his stomach tighten pleasantly.

"Now you have an excuse to sit next to me on Monday," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Clever girl."

"Me?" she laughed, readjusting the jacket. "You're the one who tripped!"

"I didn't trip," he said haughtily. "I never trip."

"Are you saying you did this on purpose, then?" she said in flirtatious challenge, jade eyes more storm-tossed in the low light of the bar.

"Clarissa, I would never," he said, and there was more yearning in his tone that he'd thought himself capable of, escalating the tension from playful to something languid and more dangerous.

"I should go," she said, though not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the prospect. "This shirt isn't mine, so—"

"Of course," he said, flashing what he hoped was a easy, careless grin. "See you Monday."

She smiled, and there was something in it that made Jace want to give everything up and live as a Mundane beside her.

"Nice to meet you."

She disappeared towards the washroom, at which point Jace turned to find the asshole who'd bumped him. Maybe he'd punch him in the face; it'd been an age since he'd had a proper fight. However, when he turned, it was to find a familiar figure standing behind him. Alec's expression was stony.

"Really?"

previous chapter

[5hfanfiction]

New Year, Same Queer (Camren One shot)

Camila hates crowds. ­

There are always too many people trudging through her personal space and she gets pushed a lot. (One of the many perks of being small and not wearing heels.)

She doesn’t really recall how she ended up in Times Square to watch the ball drop, but she had a faint recollection of Dinah abandoning her midway through this party (after having forced her to go in the first place).

Honestly, she would rather be a curled into a tight, warm burrito roll and read something than be out here. The Polynesian, however, came home to trash all of the small girl’s plans as she threatened to have a party at their place instead, if Camila didn’t agree to go with her.

(Normally, these kinds of threats seem baseless, like who could invite enough people at hours’ notice to throw a party right?

Camila made the mistake of brushing Dinah off once during spring break and awoke to the sound of drunk strangers doing it in her bed. Right next to her.)

The petite brunette sighed and struggled to remain rooted in her spot, against the tide of people who were constantly trying to push her back. The chilly wind made her shudder and she wound the hoodie around herself even more, straining to focus on the stage, a few rows in front of her, where Mariah Carey was trying to lip-sync to her songs and failing miserably to the point, it made no sense. Just like this fucking year.

Abruptly, she experienced a soft pinch on her butt and whipped around to see a middle-aged, balding man throwing her a disgustingly, smug look and a cocky wink while hurrying away, before Camila had a chance to react.

Not that she would have, no. Camila wasn’t exactly timid but she didn’t want to attract further attention to herself by slapping the man. And with her, there were no gentle slaps. She would have slapped him hard enough that the Times Square Ball wouldn’t have been the only ball dropping. But, people would have turned around and noticed her and she really wanted to make it through the night without having a panic attack.

Instinctively, she leaned forward to create some distance between her and the stench of alcohol, the creep had left behind, and rested her face against a cold, smooth surface. It smelled like leather and strawberries. How peculiar.

“Watch it,” the strawberry-scented leather rasped. Leather can talk? Camila’s brows furrowed in confusion as the surface pulled away from her, causing her klutz self, to lose balance and hurl ahead.

She snapped her eyes shut, waiting for ache of her fall to spread through her torso. Instead, she felt warmth and a very soft cushion, encompass her face.

Is she dead?                                                                                                                              

Her extra, dramatic self was quick to assume the worst had happened. She pictured Dinah’s face struggling between wanting to laugh and cry over the (very) expected nature ­of her death; tripping over her own two feet. At least, it was painless and now she was in a warmer, spongier place. A reflexive sigh of relief escaped her lips and she snuggled further into the softness.

“Er, excuse me?” And just like that, the tepid bliss left her. Perhaps, Jesus had remembered that one time she ate Dinah’s bananas and convinced her the monkeys stole it or when she had that girl bent over her desk, screaming the Lord’s name in vain; both equally valid reasons to be expelled from Heaven. She opened her eyes and promptly frowned.

Of course, the exact same place where she had died would be Hell.

(At this point, even her brain would have face-palmed if it had hands… or a face…)

Or worse

(Finally Canola.)

…Oh no...

She hadn’t fallen down and died (the more the realization kicked in, the more she wished she had), but instead, fallen on top of somebody and snuggled into their…Oh God…

She grimaced and wished with all her heart that the Earth would crack open and devour her.

A cough and a gentle tap on her shoulder, made her wince, quite audibly. She still refused to look up at the person who was wearing a really nice pair of combat boots. They had such a nice, greenish tinge to them overlaying the jet black. She could already tell by the shoes, this person was one of those really cool people, one would stare at from the distance and sigh, wishing they could know them or be friends with them. (Or bone them.)

A soft but firm squeeze on her shoulders made her realize that the person wasn’t going to walk away without an explanation. Drawing in a couple of deep breaths and trying to form coherent words of explanation, she looked up to see the most enchanting green eyes. She had never felt so naked, then in that particular moment, and the shivers that ran down her spine, weren’t because of the cold. She was so consumed with the eyes that she did not register the movement of lips or the gentle shaking of her shoulders.

“I am so gay.” The small brunette blurted out, what was supposed to be an internal monologue. If her face was red before, it would probably looked like a ripe tomato right now. Her body grew exceedingly hot and her tongue formed knots, as she waited for a probable slap or screaming.

And then the unexpected happened.                                                                                      

The sound of loud laughter followed by a little snort, greeted her ears instead. The mystery girl threw her head back and Camila snapped out of her trance. She took in the dark hair, covered with a maroon beanie, with long curls cascading down the shoulders; full lips dissolved into a fit laughter; a black leather jacket fitting perfectly over a plaid dress. It’s like this girl walked out of a movie.

“At least take me out on a date first, before you get to second base,” the raven-haired beauty spoke in an unwaveringly, raspy voice as she let her green eyes trail over the petite girl’s body, quite shamelessly. And Camila felt so incredibly under-dressed, with her plain black hoodie, tattered denim jeans and dirty Converse.

“Huh- buh- I- er-,”she tried to respond but it’s like her brain had departed her body (probably saying “gotta zayn”). Her own warm, brown eyes widened significantly as she fiddled with her fingers, feeling an anxiety attack about to set in.

But then the smirk on the other girl’s face faltered, and her emerald eyes dilated slightly, as she placed her hand on Camila’s shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, are you ok?”

Unable to form words, Camila just nodded and began to draw in large gulps of air. The hand rubbed her shoulder tenderly, and usually a stranger doing so would cause her discomfort. This, however, felt really nice, in a manner that she would willingly be rubbed all over by those hands.

(She made a mental to thank the Lords for preventing her from vocalizing those thoughts.)

After a bit, she finally looked up to meet the captivating eyes and sighed. “I am so, so very sorry. I just tripped and…Jesus…and bananas…” Honestly, how does one explain the situation she had gotten herself into? Hey, this creepy guy touched my butt and I moved forward to get away from him and rested against your back. But then I lingered because you kinda smell like strawberries. And then you moved away, so given how clumsy and extra I am, I fell onto your boobs and thought I had died and gone to Heaven, so I snuggled closer. You have really nice boobs btw.

Before either of them could say anything, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Camila?”  

She turned around and was mortified to see her ex beaming at her. The girl looked gorgeous as ever, with her high ponytail and flawless, sculpted face; nestling against the arm of the guy she had dumped Camila for on the day of her birthday. The guy, on the other hand, looked like a bearded egg; with his jeans hanging so low, you could probably see his ass crack, (Ok maybe, she is a little petty) and he had this expression on his face that screamed he would rather be anywhere else.

“It’s so nice to see you!” Ariana lunged forward and gave her hug while doing those really weird, side to side (heh), cheek-air kisses. She stood still and forced a smile when Ariana pulled back under her boy’s smelly armpits

(Karla Camila Petty Cabello Estrabão).

“Oh my God, I never thought YOU would be out here,” the smaller girl flicked her silky hair with a jerk of the wrist and giggled. “I thought you’d either be third-wheeling with Dinah, making stupid jokes or reading a stupid book.” She rolled her eyes and huffed playfully.

“Uhh,” Camila was dumbfounded. She has never been good with voicing her thoughts. She could have the sassiest of comebacks but every time she would try to say them, her words ended up being a horrendously jumbled and incoherent mess (like that book, Fifty Shades of Romanticizing-Abuse-and-Misogyny-as-Long-as-The-Guy-is-Hot).

“I never got to thank Dinah for inviting Mac to your birthday party.” Her ex beamed at her boyfriend who just shrugged and scratched his head, giving her an egg-hausted (P E T T Y) smile in return. “Never would have met my sugar pumpkin, if it hadn’t been for her.” Ariana continued all the while Camila wished a sword-wielding ninja would just come and run the sword through her heart. That would be less cringey than witnessing this cheese-fest.

“Oh I’m sorry boo,” The light haired girl, fake-gasped and looked at her, pitifully. (Clearly, mistaking Camila’s disgust for jealousy.) “I didn’t mean to make you sad…I mean, you’re the only girl I’ve ever been with… so that’s comforting, yeah?”

The English dictionary lacked the words to describe how much the Cuban hated Dinah Jane Hansen. This wouldn’t be happening right now if she hadn’t forced her to go a party and then abandoned her to suck face with some hot, chocolate bae.

(To be honest, the girl had a killer body. Who wouldn’t forget their 16 year old best friend to make out with someone like that?)  

She should have just gone home instead but that was more than ten blocks away and something had pulled her to this stupid place; where now her single-self was being pitied by her ex and her ex’s boyfriend, Humpty Dumpty. She has never hated being single, more then at this particular moment. God, she really hated Dinah. Not really. But she would kick that Polynesian butt tomorrow for this horrible start to a new year.   

“Hey babe, we’re gonna miss the countdown.”

If the girl hadn’t been standing right next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Camila would have thought she imagined the words. Or that Macaroni, here, had a really feminine voice. But she titled her head and saw the green eyes, glinting with a hint of mischievousness and understanding.

“Who are you?” Ariana said bitterly, while raising her brow. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, diverted his attention to the new girl and grinned, nodding his head in approval, as he checked her out.

“Oh, I’m Lauren.” The full lips curled into a smile as she gave Camila’s shoulder a light squeeze.

Lauren. The brunette couldn’t help but smile at how the name fit her like a glove.

“Camila’s girlfriend.” With those words, Camila’s breath hitched in her throat and the warmest sensation spread through her stomach, threatening to erupt like wildfire, inside her. She was already in love with the way her name sounded, rolling off of Lauren’s lips. “And you are?”

Hoo boi. The way Lauren said it; the dismissal and boredom in her voice as she looked at Ariana, made the brunette want to grab her by the collars and pull her in for a kiss.

“Ariana. Camila and I used to date till I met sugar pumpkin here. She must have mentioned me, I’m the first girl she ever dated.” The small girl flipped her hair again and pursed her lips, slightly narrowing her eyes at Lauren.

“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.” Lauren shrugged and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Camila’s head before moving away.  “Nice to meet you though, Sabrina.” She said and shook Ariana’s outstretched hand.

Hoooooooo boi. Rainbows were erupting inside Camila’s heart, unicorns galloping, an immodestly dressed Lauren, with a rose between her teeth, sitting on top of a mountain of bananas; the whole shebang.

The hazel eyes narrowed further as she gritted her teeth. “It’s Ariana. An-” she spoke, but was cut off by the sound of the speakers.

“Everyone grab your special someone and get ready. It’s the final ten seconds!” Ariana squeaked and wrapped her arms around Egg McMuffin’s neck, who placed his hands on her butt cheeks and squeezed them. She slipped a side-glance at Camila who sighed, knowing her jest would be up when her ex sees that she didn’t kiss Lauren.

10….9…8…. The brunette turned to walk away, not wanting to be embarrassed publicly, until she sensed fingers, curl around her wrist, gently and tug her back.

She fell straight into Lauren’s embrace, who secured her hands around Camila’s midriff and smiled.

What

7… Camila’s breath became erratic as she felt the intense emerald gaze piercing her soul. And no, she was not being extra.

6…Lauren drew a little closer and placed one hand on Camila’s cheek, brushing the side of her cheekbone.

5…Camila felt like she would faint when Lauren’s eyes fell to her lips.

4…Lauren ran her tongue, very slowly, over her lips. Camila thought it was rather deliberate.

3…Camila, finally wrapped her arms around Lauren’s neck.

2…Lauren moved her face closer and Camila joined in midway.

1…Lauren bumped her nose slightly with Camila’s and said, “Nice to meet you, Camz.” And any tension Camila felt, evaporated into nothingness.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

She barely heard the announcement or the screaming, as the supple lips were placed against hers. It was tender and yet firm enough for her to lean even closer into Lauren’s body, who tightened her own grasp around the brunette’s waist. Camila’s fingers curled through the dark hair, lightly scratching the scalp; an action that caused Lauren to open her mouth a little further and run her tongue over Camila’s bottom lip who responded a little to enthusiastically.

If Lauren hadn’t pulled away, she would have kissed her for an hour without moving. But the taller girl disconnected their lips without moving away, and Camila never thought she’d ever miss kissing somebody. The incredibly sappiness of the situation disgusted her and warmed her heart at the same time.

“At least take me out on a date, before you move to second base,” Camila whispered, resting her forehead against Laurens’, whose lips twisted into a playful smirk as her own words were being tossed back at her.

“I think kissing is first base. Snuggling into someone’s boobs though…” She grinned and the brunette winced a little, at the memory.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I just…” Once again, the brown eyes widened and the words became chaotic in her mind.

“Jesus and bananas? I know.” The taller girl laughed and Camila forgot to breathe for a minute. “Perfectly valid reasons.” She nodded and gently tugged at her beanie, smiling earnestly.

It was now or never.

 “So about that date…you wouldn’t maybe wanna… you know like…um, you can say no if you want to, it’s no ob-” Camila tried, she really tried to be confident and her start was pretty smooth, but her brain was a little bitch and tends to desert her every single time she tries to flirt. It’s a wonder she even managed to get with Ariana. (Probably because Dinah talked her up and she wasn’t as bad with her hands as she was with her words.)

“I’d love to, Camz.” The green-eyed girl smiled brightly and placed her hand over Camila’s, who entwined their fingers; the nickname making her smile, giddily.

How disgustingly adorable are they.

“Thank God, I thought we’d have to hit all the bases before you agreed to go out with me.”

It was such a terrible joke. Really bad. Ally would have rolled her eyes and Dinah would have punched her but Lauren, once again, threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. And somewhere, deep down, Camila knew she had fallen for that laugh.

With hands linked, they walked away and Camila made a mental note to thank Dinah for dragging her outside and leaving her.

A/N: AYE I AM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY PUT SOMETHING UP!! I hope you guys like it. Please be gentle, I am new to the writing world.

IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER PROMPT REQUESTS PLEASE LEMME KNOW ON MY TUMBLR “adolescent-writer”

Also I love reading comments, they motivate me to write more <3 P.S. I LOVE ARIANA AND MAC THIS WAS ALL FICTIONAL AYE. 

[fucknofortunato]

[Writing Prompt] My Fantasy Fantasy pt 2

Prompt: You have suddenly been inserted as one of the characters in the Lord of the Rings series. Who are you and do you change anything about how your character acted in the books or movies? Note: Split this into parts because the story is getting pretty long

“Hey, you falling asleep on us, old man?” jested a voice loudly.

Vandrew’s eyes shot open and suddenly he was incredibly ill. The room had changed completely and looked so much older yet incredible fresh. Large wooden logs lined the walls and weapons, animals, and crafts hung upon them. The silence of sleep and the steady crackling of the fireplace was turned into the roaring of a flame nearby and the copious sounds of people talking and moving. The chair was gone and he was seated upon a small bench by himself, but across from him sat two men. The sounds of chains clinking together rang heavily across the room and somewhat from himself as he sat up. The smell of an old living room was replaced with the smells of tobacco smoke, beer, meats, and sweat.

“What...what the hell...” he barely choked out in his disorientation. The room spun around him and he staggered to his feet. His long greyish blonde hair hung in his face as he did so, another shock to the man who had brown hair cut short before he fell asleep. His arm shot out to grab the table and the two men tensed up, wondering whether or not he needed help.

“I...I can’t...what’s....” Vandrew choked out.

“How much did you have to drink? You can sleep more, friend!” called the voice that had awakened him. The man with long black hair had said it. Trying to focus his vision, Vandrew pulled his hair aside and took a good look. The man had stubble around his face, a hard jaw, and was wearing...armor. Leather or some sort, studded with metal maybe. It was like what he would have seen in an old Dragon Slayers role playing book.

Vandrew muttered some more things before stumbling through a crowd, trying to find a way out. Through some sort of luck, he stumbled out the front door and collapsed onto his hands and knees on the muddy path. Crawling a bit to turn himself, he brought himself over to a trough, leaned upon it, and proceeded to vomit behind it.

“This has to be a dream, it has to be a dream,” he kept repeating, eyes starting to tear up. The smells were awful. Horses and vomit upon lord knows what else. Looking around he saw the horses tied to a post. Their manes shown in the moonlight, large specimens with crude saddles. Turning his gaze skyward, he saw the night sky ablaze with stars and a moon.

“Oh god,” he said to himself as he scanned the sky feverishly. “Where is it, where is it!” he continued to rave while staring above, past the dark clouds that loomed and passed with the winds.

“Where is what?” spoke the black-haired man.

Startled, Vandrew turned back to him, “Orion’s belt! It’s the only constellation I know! I can always find it, where is he, where is he!?”

The black-haired man looked incredibly unwell now. “Was your drink poisoned? Did someone do this to you?”

“This is not my sky...” he spoke solemnly. Gripping his head, he felt not the skin he expected by the worn material of armored glove. Pulling his hand back, he turned it over and looked at it. Vandrew was wearing armor similar to the man with the black hair, but his was of dark red while the man’s was dark blue. More importantly, he noticed he was wearing a sword on his waist. The sword from the wall.

“Vandrew, I too miss our homeland. The dark army of Vilov Erlord stole our home and has ruined what the ancestors left for our claims. This group of fellows is what will return her to glory and purge her of that Ork scum.”

This...is so familiar... Vandrew thought as he stood up. “Uh...” Think! You have to get a grip of yourself and figure out what’s going on! “Well I think that’s enough ‘horsing’ around. Let’s return to our friends for the ‘mane’ event!” he awkwardly joked, forcing a smile.

The black-haired man gave him a peculiar stare but went along with it. “I don’t understand what you mean entirely, but yes, let us return inside, brother.”

Oh crap, he’s my brother?! Is that how he knew my name? Vandrew’s mind wandered as they went back inside the tavern, immediately hit by the wave of heat from fire and bodies. This is just an incredibly vivid dream. I’m back in the mansion and I’ve just gotta reach the endpoint to wake up. Those weapons must have brought back memories of playing Dragon Slayers and rolling dice til the morning came.

Back at the table, he saw the other man was truly an elder and quite weird. The man was a little taller than Vandrew and had silver hair running past his shoulders, unlike Vandrew and the black-haired man’s length. Equipped with the large staff from the top shelf, held as if it was a walking stick, he was dressed in grey robes with a pointy wizard-like hat on his head, the tip drooping ever so slightly. Vandrew looked back and saw the black-haired man was carrying the sword he didn’t choose from the rack.

“It appears the cup was not tampered with and I detect no poisons were in his drink,” spoke the elder with a majestic tone. Truly, he sounded incredibly wise. “I’m just not feeling too well...” he said, barely keeping eye contact with the man. The elder’s gaze seemed to continue to pierce, unwavering. “Well?” “What?” “Won’t you use my name, Vandrew?”

Vandrew was so shaken, he began to actually shake. What were they going to do to him when they find out that he isn’t actually the brother they thought? There had to be a plan, some kind of plan. Maybe a check for bluffing. Or perhaps...

“I really think we should be going now! We have a journey to make, Dangalf!” exclaimed a tiny man, who seemed to have the size of a child but the proportions of a young man. When he saw the golden bracelet gleam, it suddenly hit him. A halfling!

“Oh my god!” Vandrew suddenly bursted out, forgetting to even replace the word god with got. “Mico Guffootin and Dangalf!” “My, Vandrew has had quite some to drink hasn’t he?” asked Guffootin. “The Fellows of the Charmkeeper!” he said, beginning to laugh.

Dangalf eyed him suspiciously, “It appears to be his mind is afflicted. I’m afraid he must be under some kind of curse.”

“Yes! That’s gotta be it!” he spoke, finally feeling comfortable that this had to be a dream-like situation. It was going on for far too long and soon he would wake, but in the meantime, he would make the best out of it. Vandrew was clearly juxtaposed into the infamous movie trilogy Fellows of the Charmkeeper. A fantasy film based upon the written works of the same name. He took a deep breath and sat on the bench.

“Oh my, I’ve never seen him so cheery,” spoke Guffootin. “My brother of the humans,” spoke the black-haired man. “Look I’m sorry but this curse, it’s affected my memory. I can’t remember anything since you woke me up,” Vandrew explained. “Yes, and being around the Lord Charm must be weakening the curse,” Dangalf said motioning to Guffootin’s bracelet.

The bracelet hung on Guffootin’s left wrist, harmless at first glance but a relic capable of twisting the minds of those who dare venture near it. The worst is when the relic is activated by moving it up the wrist, for when it is snug upon the arm of a charmkeeper, they vanish into the ethereal plane.

“Where are the other fellows...” Vandrew said, scanning through the sprawl of customers now. He had not seen the movies but he had read about some of them and seen a bit every now and then. While he wouldn’t know what they looked like, he now realized why the weapons on the wall were familiar.

As he pointed to each person, Dangalf said their names: “Lastlego and Pow Urhouse,” pointing at the bow wielding elf and the battleaxe wielding dwarf, currently engaged in a drinking contest. “Pipes, Happy, and Wamsize,” pointing at the three halflings doing a jig and singing some sort of drinking song, while daggers dangled from their belts. “Dangalf, Guffootin, and,” he said as Vandrew began pointing to those at the table, “Aaron.” Vandrew made a face of blank expression, to which Aaron tilted his head a little confused.

“Well, I’m happy that’s all said and done, but we should get going!” Guffootin pressed once more. “Very well, let’s gather the Fellows,” returned Dangalf. Aaron grabbed Vandrew’s arm as he stood, “Are you sure, you’re all right, brother?” “Uh yeah. Are you sure we’re brothers though?” Vandrew asked, slightly recalling something about Aaron’s character being a little more than human. He’s actually pretty old, right? “Haha, still you jest as with your queer word games!” ”Hey, I don’t think it’s cool to say that. You can just call them bad,” Vandrew corrected. “We are merely brother in arms, I mean.” “Yeah... alright.”

Vandrew smiled and then walked away as Dangalf and Guffootin gathered the others. Finding a mirror, he gazed into it, shocked to see another person staring back. Recognizing him, suddenly he felt a great amount of dread.

“Oh shoot! I know that actor! He dies in like every film,” he said, started to trail off with the grim realization of what lies ahead.

Looking around he saw the drinking contest end with the dwarf collapsing. “Oh hey, I remember that,” he said with a laugh. His joy was cut short by a great confusion. “But if they’re drinking, then that means... I died already?” Turning back around he looked at the four halflings reunited. “This isn’t right, things didn’t happen like thi-” an incredibly sharp pain ripped through his stomach and he fell to the floor. The floor gave way and he fell further into darkness, continually drifting below. Turning and reeling with pain, his abdomen seemed to scream out as his own voice failed to do so. Reaching forward he clutched at the nothing until he violently hit a soft pillow-y material. His hands shot forward, throwing around blankets. The bright lights blinded him and he struggled and turned.

“Calm thyself, Vandrew!” called forth an elf besides the bed. “Wh-what is happening...” he whimpered. “You’ve suffered a serious wound from one of the Phantom Riders,” spoke the elf as he removed the bandages. “Phantom Riders... those guys looked bad ass in the trailers...” Vandrew prattled as he looked down at his stomach, blonde hair in the way. “Oh god,” Vandrew said to himself as he realized the horrible situation. “My dream was a dream, but it was no dream within a dream... I’m... The Fellows... I’m Morebear...” “Morebear?” the elf asked quizzically. “The name sounds familiar,” he said as he applied new bandages. “Your name is Vandrew, is it not?” Dangalf asked.

Vandrew looked up, the image of Dangalf standing over the bed. How he failed to recognize this iconic character before still eluded him. The elf finished applying the bandages and Vandrew sat forward.

“Yes,” he spoke looking around at the surroundings: Elf Highgrounds. “I’m afraid the blade has afflicted your mind with a curse, but hopefully being around the Charmkeeper will stave the curse,” he said with a sly smile. “Do...do you know more than you’re letting on?” asked Vandrew. “Of course not, Morebe-” he said stopping himself. “Apologies. Vandrew. Let’s get ready to go now, us Fellows need to make a journey.” “Yeah...a real ring toss,” he muttered, yet he still heard Dangalf chuckle.