╱ ╯- ❝ fali's writing storage ! ❞

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ dancing through life ! ❞
written: 01/07/2020 | character: nancy rivera | cw: n/a

Maybe getting kicked out of home wasn’t such a bad thing. That’s what Nancy desperately tried to reason with herself as she woke up every morning. New surroundings, new people, new life. Fresh start, right? People were always raving about those. It’s not like Nancy even enjoyed being rich in the first place, in fact, it was a suffocating experience if she was to be honest.

At least this way, she could get a lie in.

Oh heavens, wait, what time was it?

Nancy shot up. She blinked at the alarm clock kept by the bedside. 11am. Oh, heavens to Betsy, this day was almost halfway over! She knew she was a heavy sleeper, but this was ridiculous. Yet, her body still felt drained, so despite her worrisome inside, her outside dragged itself out of bed with a heave. Throwing clothes on seemed to be becoming a new hobby that she had become the master of.

Rushing downstairs as fast as her body would take her, she found Catherine nursing a mug of tea. Okay… definitely wasn’t good to sleep in when it was Catherine’s day off. Pushing the embarrassment out of her mind, Nancy knew a cup of tea wouldn’t cure her tiredness. “I’m gonna make some coffee, buttercup,” she announced. “Do you want any?” If anything, she was just trying to be polite.

“No thanks,” Catherine murmured as she took another sip. Despite the refusal, she could see Catherine was already running a little low on energy. Then again, being a mother and nursing a failing marriage would do that to a woman. Well--she had no proof of the failing marriage, but observation was very telling. Nevertheless, she found herself preparing the coffee, groggily grasping for the cup and ingredients needed.

“Are you sure?” Nancy questioned. “Last chance before the coffee train leaves the station.” She had her moments of corniness, that she couldn’t deny. Receiving no response, the former aristocrat shrugged before downing the cup, leaning against the counter. Life of the working class was hard to adjust to. Trading dances and high-class parties for late nights and broken tables because you currently couldn’t afford to replace it. From extravagant meals to meals that struggled to fill you sometimes.

It was all so thrilling.

She felt freed.

With the strength returning to her body, Nancy twirled in the kitchen towards the radio. The radio always calmed her down. Wakened her up. It tended to do everything in just the right way to put her in a good mood. Getting to listen to all the popular music, hearing the commentary from the latest presenters and being able to keep up with the news of the world--it was all so enthralling. Even better when she was able to turn the radio on to the start of her favourite song.

One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock
Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock
Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight

Every word Nancy could rhyme off as if second nature. Exhilarated by the sudden energy of having your favourite song come on, helped by the coffee, Nancy strayed towards a spacious area of the kitchen and reached out for Catherine’s hand.

“I can teach you how to dance to this song, buttercup,” Nancy offered, hand out for the other to grab. “You need a moment to relax.” While waiting for a response, she began to mouth the lyrics. Put your glad rags on and join me, hon'!

Rolling her eyes slightly in submission, Catherine decided to entertain her new houseguest. Grasping at Nancy’s hand, she was immediately dragged closer.

We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight

Nancy had always learnt about elegant dances. Impressing men did not come from songs such as these, they came from classical-style music and maintaining poise as you slow-danced. Nancy never had it in her to fake an interest in these slow dances. While she maintained a proper ladylike stance in her day to day life, dancing was meant to be fun. Moments where you’re able to escape the world and just fall into a world of your own. So, she learnt how to dance on her own to more exciting songs. However… maybe it could get to be a bit much.

Despite that, dancing like this was a lot more fun when she got to hear the surprised yelps come from her working class friend. Nancy chuckled in amusement. “Did you not expect me to know how to dance like this, buttercup?” she questioned.

“Well, I certainly expected a more aristocratic style of approach to dancing,” Catherine admitted. While Nancy had fully cast away that lifestyle, she did maintain a lot of her behaviours. The difference in their upbringings wouldn’t stop shining through.

“It was boring.” A rather blunt response. “Trust me, boarding school does not teach anything exciting, especially when it comes to dancing. It’s rather.. elegant. Elegance with this song?”

When the clock strikes two, three and four
If the band slows down we'll yell for more
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight

“It simply wouldn’t do. This sort of dancing is surely the bee’s knees. It demands energy,” the former aristocrat continued as she spun Catherine around. “Demands every negative thought and every stress be written off. It’s not worth it otherwise.”

Catherine found herself rather bewildered at Nancy’s behaviour. While having initially sparked up a conversation with the girl at a local pub, Nancy still always maintained her poise, even if she managed to down a pint faster than some of the seasoned regulars. To see her fully be able to let her hair down now that she had cast off the burden of ‘Rivera’ was a sight to behold. She rather liked it.

So, a smirk danced upon Catherine’s lips. “I never thought I’d see a Rivera dance like this.”

Nancy glanced away uncomfortably, her confident dancing slowing. “I hate that name.” She blinked. “I’ll find a new name someday. However, the Riveras can get bent.” Confidence returning to her stride, she switched sides as she continued.

When the clock strikes twelve, we'll cool off then
Start a rockin' round the clock again
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'til broad daylight
We're gonna rock, gonna rock, around the clock tonight

As the final notes bellowed throughout the kitchen, Nancy let out a heavy breath. “You know what, buttercup? You never told me you could dance.”

“Neither did you, Nancy. Now, care to help me with some housework?”

“Can’t you get the but-” Nancy cut herself off, staring awkwardly towards a brush. “Ah… I’ll just go brush the floor.”


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word count: 1,158
a/n: rich/working class is such a guilty pleasure. after my outed drabble, nancy ended up living with her friend catherine. she has to adjust to working-class life so this drabble shows nancy trying to find the bright side of things. she's definitely an oc i intend to write more about in the future! slight songfics are also very fun to write i think!

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ shut up ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 08/06/2020 | character: jessica 'jess' simmons | cw: n/a

Somehow, sitting on a girl’s bed always led to some sort of crush talk.

“My taste is not that bad.” Jess had her pride. In fact, many would probably call it her downfall. She had a gaydar that could sense anybody in the closet from a mile away. She had a better taste in men than all straight women (in that she had none at all). Most of all, she had a great taste in women.

“Well, if I had to have a crush on a girl, Angela Millar would not be my first choice.” Sydney let out a giggle at the thought, finding that her laughter only grew when the disdain on Jess’ face grew.

The other blonde huffed for a moment. “Yeah? Well, what do straight women know?”

“Enough to make a decision.”

Jess grunted under her breath. “That’s not how it works. At least I don’t fancy Australian exchange students. People say their accents are sexy--but I think people are tone-deaf.”

“We are not! They’re very sexy!” With a mock gasp of offence, Sydney continued. “Better than crushing on the goth girl, Jessie. Did you like her because she has the same amount of piercings as you or something?”

“Oh, please! It was much more than that!” Feeling a blush appear on her cheeks, Jess turned away. Now that her pride seemed to be on the line, she didn’t want to give Sydney the satisfaction of causing such a reaction. “I’d rather fancy a goth girl than any man on this earth.”

A slight smirk tugged on Sydney’s face. “Oh, look at me. I’m Angela. My hair is blacker than my soul, and I can trap lesbians with just a glance. Oh Jess, kiss me, kiss me! Paint your lips black with my lipstick and fall under my goth spell.” As she spoke, she leaned close enough to Jess to collapse into her lap.

“Oi, that’s only funny when I do it.” Last time, it resulted in them kissing. Not that… Jess had been thinking about it or anything. It was just because they were playing around. This time was different--probably because it was her under fire. “Shut the hell up.”

“Yes, Jess, your anger just fuels me onwards. Take me away in your stolen car and into the stars and I can write some goth poetry I just know I keep under the pillow!” Fully comfortable, Sydney’s head fully rested on Jess’ lap. Blinking up at Jess, her hand reached out to grab her cheek. “Kiss me!”

“Shut up.”

“Kiss me, Jessie!”

Okay, if it will shut her up. Jess stared down at the popular girl resting on her knees before brushing her hair out of the way, leaning in. Their lips grazed together gently, Jess forgot how soft Sydney’s lips had actually been. Spending another moment pressed against her lips, Jess suddenly pulled back. Taking in a breath, she glared. “Okay, do you get the damn hint now? Shut up.”

Sydney--who’s eyes had been widened slightly at the sudden gesture--burst into laughter. “Did you picture Angela then?”

Screw Sydney’s ability to make Jess laugh so quickly. Soon, Jess found chuckles escaping her own lips. “I’m not telling you squat. Now, sit the hell up, I’m kinda hungry and I can’t eat if someone has their entire dead weight on my lap.”

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word count: 556
a/n: i love sydney and jess with my entire heart. my girlfriend already wrote their first kiss, so i tackled both the second and third! they seem to be very good friends! funny thing is, jess claims to have a "gaydar" but doesn't catch on that sydney's a lesbian too--dramatic irony methinks

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ cheerleading ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 09/06/2020 | character: jessica 'jess' simmons | cw: homophobia implied

Sydney’s room was always comfortable. Maybe it was the bed, or the fact that there was enough room to breathe, or even having enough privacy to keep a person comfortable (instead of having two annoying siblings being up your ass for sleeping in on a weekend). Jess flopped as if she were a starfish, cranking her neck up so she could see Sydney from the other side of the room.

They had been spending a lot of time together over the course of the summer. Truth be told, Jess never had a friend like Sydney before. Granted, she didn’t exactly have any friends at the moment (or ever)--but between her old group and her old friend who she drifted from, none of them seemed to compare to Sydney. In terms of understanding and… well, prissiness. Despite that, she was loosening up slowly. Jess had to give her credit where it was due.

“Have you ever dated a quarterback then?” Jess questioned, shifting her body 180° so that her head now hung over the bed, resting her feet against the wall. It was surprising how much boy talk Jess seemed to fit into a day-to-day conversation, considering where her orientation lay. “Considering you’re a cheerleader and all. Isn’t that, like, the rules? I’ve seen enough TV movies to get the idea.”

“Well, no.”

“Ugggggh, what, did daddy not want you to do it or something?” For a lesbian, Jess seemed to be rather interested in knowing about the boys Sydney could potentially be into. Sure, there was that Australian guy (Joshua, was it?), but hey, that was the now--she wanted to know the past.

“I wasn’t interested,” Sydney replied simply. Jess stifled a laugh. Standing up from her desk, Sydney walked over and plopped herself on the floor beside her bed, matching height with Jess. “Quarterbacks are too… well, buff. Too…” Not knowing how to describe it, she opted for making arm gestures, sending Jess into another fit.

“Oh, yes, now I get it. You see, I just thought they were too muscular and annoying but now I see they were loonies as well.” Choking back her cackling, Jess glanced at the girl beside her. “Say, Syd, do you remember any of your routines or anything?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe I’m just trying to take a damn interest in your hobbies or something.” Jess raised an eyebrow, rolling over so that she could view Sydney the right way up. “Do you know any or not?”

“Of course I do!” Sydney retorted. “I just never took you as someone who might have a bit of school spirit, that’s all!”

“Oh, I absolutely don’t have that.” Jess laughed at the idea, arm draping over the side of the bed. “When a school is filled with students calling you ‘lesbo’ and... other things, you tend to build hatred. You, however, must have plenty of it to be on the cheerleading team. So, c’mon, show me something.”

There was no getting out of it, huh? Sydney resigned to her fate as she stood up, heading over towards her wardrobe with a slight skip to her step. Jess fully sat up, tilting her head.

“Hey, Syd… you really don’t need to get into your whole costume.”

Sydney’s eyes glazed in confusion as she reached for the top of her wardrobe. “I’m just getting my pom-poms,” she answered, grabbing them from the shelf in her wardrobe and shutting the door.

“Ah… right. That… makes a lot more damn sense.”

Sydney stood facing the blonde as she breathed in and looked at the floor. Perking up, Jess paid full attention to the show that was about to go down. A part of her wondered if she was going to regret asking about it.

She soon found out she would.

“ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, COME ON HAWKINS, WE WANT MORE.” Somehow, the chanting alone cracked Jess up--but it was amplified with the amount of leg lifting and dramatic arm movements, even accompanied by the splits (which, Jess had to admit, was mighty impressive). The show didn’t end there, as the ruffling of pom-poms and Sydney’s eternal chants echoed through the room. “GO HOME! PACK UP! GONNA MAKE YOU GIVE THAT FOOTBALL UP!”

“Maybe it’s for the best I’ve never attended a football game,” Jess commented, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re killing me, you do this with all those girls too? In front of people?” Always the sensitive and encouraging type Jess was.

“Yeah! This is what I do!” Pouting, Sydney took a step forward and shook the pom-pom in Jess’ face, forcing her to back up as Jess erupted into another laughing fit. “It’s preppy!”

“It’s very prissy for sure, Syd.”

A beat of silence fell between them as Jess shot Sydney a smile. All in good fun this was--honest. If Jess was being malicious, she’d say everything with no laughter escaping her lips.

“Hey, Syd. Why don’t you show me how to do one of these routines--y’know, in case I want to join.”

“Oh, like you of all people are going to try out for cheerleading next year,” Sydney teased as she stepped back to allow Jess to stand. Jess rolled her tongue against the inside of her lip.

“What can I say?” Jess questioned, heaving herself to her feet and joining Sydney’s side. “You’ve inspired me.”

“Okay, so it’s left, right, left, right, back, forward, arms in the air.” As she commented on each movement, Jess stared at Sydney’s flow. The way she made every move look so natural, it was rather amazing to watch--in a weird, preppy girl kind of way. Jess couldn’t recall Sydney looking so at peace quite like when she was performing in this way. Did cheerleading give Sydney a sense of peace Jess just couldn’t understand? Well--that would definitely make sense.

“Hey, Jess, did you hear me?” Jess snapped back to reality with the words of a concerned blonde. “Do you know what to do?”

“Yeah, of course I do!” Jess replied, defensiveness seeping into her tone. “Okay, we gonna do this together then, or what’s the deal?”

“Okay, so, follow my lead and remember the steps. It’s left, right, left, right, ONE TWO THREE FOUR!”

“GO ON HAWKINS,” Jess yelled. You know what? With all the screaming, she could understand the appeal of cheerleading. Constant movement that didn’t result in either harming yourself or others? Screaming from the top of your lungs to a crowd of insufferable people? It would be an alternate release to street racing if it didn’t involve a bunch of annoying popular girls (Sydney excluded of course) and school spirit, whatever that meant.

She couldn’t stop staring at Sydney either. The way she moved, it was so… elegant. Again, she looked so happy, she was really cute. While her mind wandered towards what she could do to bring out this sense of joy in Sydney again, it was soon revealed that maybe it was best to watch your step (and, well, listen to your teacher first) instead of trying to practice a complicated routine while your brain raced. All in a rush, Jess mistepped. Tangling with Sydney, the two crashed into one another, falling on the ground with an ‘oof’ launching from Jess.

Sydney blinked down. Okay, she was on top of Jess. This was new. New territory was being explored from Jess’ side too as she looked up. That definitely could have gone better. Great, she got distracted. By Sydney. Of all people, her best friend. Bless, Sydney looked all concerned. Actually, she legitimately did.

“Are you hurt?” Sydney questioned, alarm flashing in her eyes. “That… didn’t sound like a good fall.” You’d think she’d move out of the way by now, Jess pondered.

Sydney was really cute from this angle. You know… in a prissy, innocent popular girl kind of way. All concerned and bright eyed at the prospect of a ‘bad girl’, the reputation Jess so clearly flaunted. Was Sydney’s bottom lip trembling a bit? Jess could swear it was. God--there was a part of her being drawn to her lips. A growing part. In fact, it was getting massive. As if on an impulse uncontrolled by man, Jess pulled herself up and pressed her lips against Sydney’s.

Maybe it was softer than the first couple of times. Jess found herself lingering just for a moment longer. Her heart fluttered slightly--wait, why was it fluttering slightly? Sydney was her friend. Okay… a friend who was a girl. She was kissing a girl. She liked girls. Therefore, kissing a girl would ignite something in Jess, friend or not. Right? Right. She didn’t fancy Sydney--she just… didn’t want to break away immediately, that didn’t mean anything. She could just digest the butterflies in her stomach.

Breaking away from the kiss, Jess fell back on the floor. “Your bottom lip was trembling, Syd. Are you that concerned about me? Kinda sweet.” She couldn’t help but notice Sydney’s widened eyes. Of course she didn’t expect it--this time it wasn’t like they were completely bantering around. This time, it was just an accident. That… still resulted in Sydney staying on top of her. Was she not going to move? What was she thinking ab-

Her questions were answered when suddenly, Sydney leaned in and kissed Jess. Jess closed her eyes as she leaned into it slightly. Sydney’s lips were incredibly soft. They were nice to kiss. Wait--why did she do that? Was this just banter again? Well, they were getting to be incredibly good friends after all. This meant nothing between them, didn’t it? Sydney pulled back, blinking in a silence that lasted several moments.

“You, uh… you looked hurt,” Sydney stammered, avoiding eye contact as she finally shuffled off Jess, allowing her to sit up and regain her sense of balance. “You looked hurt, and well… I uh. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Jess cackled. “Being tackled into does tend to hurt a person,” she teased, nudging against Sydney, who perched beside her.
“Hey! That was completely you,” Sydney chuckled. Amusement flashed in her eyes.

“Maybe so, but when do I admit I’m wrong, eh?” A grin tugged on Jess’ face. “Say, wanna go ‘round to the junkyard or something? Blow off some damn steam?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

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word count: 1,722
a/n: and the third kiss between them! this one they had NO excuse for, but i love them regardless. ladies who don't realise they're in love. i love it. before the world messes them up.

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ discovery ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 08/05/2020 | character: nancy rivera | cw: homophobia

“I don’t see why we should get married.” Nancy stood on the wall, walking the length. “Marriage seems very boring. Mum and dad always seem so bored. Boys are always boring.” All at once, she plopped herself down on the wall, legs dangling below.

Betty blinked. “My mum seems to like my dad enough. Maybe that’s how we’ll turn out.” She shrugged, staring up at Nancy. The pair never really discussed marriage, knowing they’d have to keep the wealth in their families someday by marrying another aristocrat. It was a heavy load to bear, but they knew their responsibilities.

Too bad Nancy wasn’t one to follow her responsibilities.

“Maybe we should just marry each other.” The beat in between the statement and Betty’s reaction let Nancy’s breath hitch in her throat. “Think about it! It’ll just be like being with your best friend forever. Only… you act like how your parents do.”

“Can… we even do that?”

“I don’t see why we can’t. People listen to us, we’re rich.” The idea of marrying a girl wouldn’t stop dancing through Nancy’s head. “I’ve never exactly been khaki-wacky either.”

“Don’t go into a decline over it, Nancy,” Betty soothed. “You’ll be khaki-wacky before you know it.”

“That’s the thing, I-” Having leaned forward so Nancy could reveal her secret, she lost her balance and fell forward. Betty reached out her arms in an attempt to save her friend, finding Nancy collapsing straight into her. Nancy shot her body up, leaning over Betty who was trying to regain a sense of composure. A light blush danced along Nancy’s cheeks as her breath became ragged. Betty… looked extremely pretty right now. The way her hair gently fell across her face in a slight mess, her ocean blue eyes looking up at her, her lips--oh god, her lips.

“Nancy?”

Nancy snapped out of her trance.

“What were you gonna say?”

Hesitating for a moment, Nancy found her gaze straying to Betty’s lips once again. So, she shut her eyes and leaned in. Her lips were very soft, it turns out. Breaking out of the kiss, Nancy glanced away (as if looks could kill, Betty would have committed murder). “I... think I like the idea of being in a woman’s company… that’s all. Don’t… don’t all women feel like this?”

Betty forced herself up, eyes clouded in disgust. “You’re a lesbian? That’s disgusting!” That word… such malice. Nancy found herself confused.

“You mean… you don’t think about wanting to kiss women?” Her voice laced with perplexment as Betty took a step back as they gathered themselves.

“Of course not! I think about marrying a man, loving a man! You know, the normal thing?” Normal thing? “Christ! That’s immoral! Just focus on getting rid of all that and become a good wife, yeah?”

Nancy watched as Betty walked away. So… other girls clearly didn’t have the same thoughts she did. Life seemed to just get a lot more complicated.


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word count: 492
a/n: I LOVE MISS NANCY RIVERA. this is where she discovers that her attraction to women is not a common thing to find in the 1940s. i love her so much.

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ first encounter ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 16/06/2020 | character: veronica 'ronnie' garcia | cw: n/a

Perched on the stairs leading to the front yard, Ronnie sat. It was quiet out here. Beautiful summer night, too. Other kids were running around, a few found themselves relaxing in the shade of a large oak tree. Some hopped between the outdoor and indoors. A few played in groups. Well, Ronnie preferred to sit alone.

Alone was quiet. Alone was nice, alone brought peace. Loud noises caused her pain, so the screams of the other children never appealed to her. Besides… she wasn’t the most verbal child. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to talk. She didn’t want to. Bonding with the other children never appealed to Ronnie, so she didn’t do it. Not a single friend in the home but she didn’t mind. The adults seemed to take good care of her.

The quiet was nice. Until, she found herself interrupted. A small feline rustled from the bushes, a mrow filling the air which caught the brunette’s attention away from her thoughts. Ronnie tilted her head as the cat approached with curiosity, sniffing the air.

“Hello,” Ronnie murmured. Ginger fur rubbed against her leg as the cat walked past, curling by her side. “Hello Mr. Cat.” In response, the cat purred as Ronnie reached a hand out, petting his head. “You’re quiet and nice.” Once her hand retracted, the cat leapt into Ronnie’s lap, the purrs growing louder as he settled to sleep.

“Are you happy?” Ronnie questioned. Even though she didn’t expect a response, speaking to the cat was rather calming. A nice activity. Something she’d like to do often. Just as she was about to continue her conversation with the animal, she heard one of the workers fretting. “Cute cat, cute cat,” she recited into herself, falling into a rhythm of stroking.

“Oh, Cotton, where have you gone?” she called before catching sight of the duo on the step. “There you are! Ronnie, I see you’ve been introduced to our newest cat, Cotton.” Crouching to match her height, the worker offered a gentle smile. “My, my, he seems to like you.”

Avoiding eye contact, Ronnie looked at the pet on her lap. “Cotton,” she murmured, scratching the cat behind the ear. “Cotton, Cotton,” she repeated, the grin growing on her face. “Cute Cotton. Can I help?” Turning to the worker, her smile only grew wider.

“Help take care of him?”

“Yeah! Cotton, Cotton,” Ronnie repeated. “Cute Cotton!”

The older woman smiled. “You like cats then, don’t you?” Yet the question fell upon deaf ears as Ronnie fixated on petting the animal on her lap once again.


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word count: 431
a/n: finally, i post a drabble relating to the first oc i made in years. ronnie will be two years old this month, but i never write her enough. but she's genuinely my best oc, so for now i'll post this drabble from her childhood!

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ sitting by the graveside ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 15/06/2020 | character: jessica 'jess' simmons | cw: parental death

At least it was quiet tonight. The graveyard was rather eerie, as you’d expect from an area dedicated to burying the dead. Jess stared up at the stars. Breaking into the cemetery to confirm that you’d have some fleeting moment of privacy always did bring a sombre ambiance to the setting. Trees rustled to the melancholic breeze as Jess sauntered towards the familiar site of her father’s grave--David Simmons.

The Simmons household had practically no money. Many graves surrounded David’s, tidied and prepped with beautiful flowers from the local florist. Yet his grave was laced with weeds and a crumbling gravestone, unable to stay beautiful with the lack of funds. Jess crouched beside the site, yanking up a couple of weeds and brushing over the silver stones covering the burial site. Her hand hovered over his name before she pulled her jacket over her hand and wiped against his name. People deserved to read the name of a noble man.

She sat by the grave. Silence became deafening after a few moments and Jess found herself missing the subtle sounds of a weeping widow from the other side. It felt strange to talk to a dead man when there weren’t others feeling a similar tear in their heart over a lost love surrounding you. “Hey, dad,” she choked out after a moment. The cool summer wind ruffled her hair, almost as if he was messing up her hair one more time.

Hands brushed against the stones that concealed the dirt that led to his tomb. While pulling up a few of the weeds, Jess began to speak again. “Sorry to come after visiting hours. Got a bit distracted all day.” Her hands were scratched due to the sharper weeds, light traces of blood trickling onto her palms. “Mom was always against crime, Heather’s pissed off again and Michael’s asleep, so you’re just stuck with your favourite girl,” Jess chuckled as she reached over. She fixed the stones up as the unearthed weeds were dumped by her side.

Once she was finished making his grave look presentable, she shuffled up so that she sat directly beside his gravestone. Her head rested against the cracked top as if to replicate all the times they’d sit on the couch and watch a stupid made-for-TV movie. “Sorry I never brought you flowers. Bet you’re rolling down there right now, thinking about rising up. Must be a tragedy, being the worst looking grave here.” Her eyes darted to the surrounding graves. Some had statues commemorating their lost ones--mostly angels, one of an angel mourning over a gravestone. Others were just decorated by flowers to prove that relatives still spared a thought to the dead once in a while.

Some remained empty, but at least they weren’t littered with weeds.

“Suppose you’re wondering why I’m breaking in to visit you. I was preparing for an outing tonight. No, not a boy.” She paused in thought for a moment, lifting her head. “Well, I don’t think you ever took me for the boy crazy type. Well, you see--I met this girl. No, we’re not lesbos--well, I am, but I’m sure you’ve seen that by now--but… she’s a great person.”

Her heart felt heavy. She should be able to tell him this directly instead of to an inanimate piece of glorified rock. “Her name’s Sydney. I don’t like… fancy her or anything, I know that would’ve been your first conclusion,” she chuckled. She remembered every moment her dad spent teasing her the moment she brought up a boy’s name. Any annoyance that gripped her heart at the time melted away in the present and the hoarse voice gripping her throat reminded her that she would take any sort of teasing he offered if he came back.

She reached over and grabbed a stone, forcefully chucking it to the ground. “You should be here.” Those simple words pained her. Eyes were dampened and yet felt dry with the amount of tears already shed at the concept of what she wanted to say. “Why the hell aren’t you?”

Wiping her eyes, Jess growled. What if I had recognised he was deteriorating sooner? What if I had recognised the neglect sooner? What if I spoke up on it? Would he still be here? She didn’t dare admit her doubts out loud. Having it vocalised would threaten to send her to the grave herself. “Well… suppose if you’re up there, you get to keep an eye on me or something. Make sure I don’t get up to anything illegal--” she gulped a little, “--well… more illegal, I guess. Or anything naughty. It’s okay, dad… I know nobody like that.”

She needed to get rid of the pain in her stomach.

“How about I tell you more about this girl, huh? She’s a real damn priss, dad, exactly the kind of girl you warned me about.” Memories flooded her mind of her dad’s warnings of the popular girls before she headed for her first day of high school. “Funnily enough, she lost her mom. I hope you’re not getting up to anything with her up there, you old dog!” Howling her sly insults to the air somehow made her feel better. Suppose shouting despite a throat that threatened to choke you somehow helped. Her yells were greeted by the hoot of a nearby owl, a guardian of the dead almost. “I mean… I have kissed her. Twice, actually. She’s so damn prissy I think I could’ve been her first kiss. And I know you would’ve high fived me for that one, so up top,” she continued as her hand pressed against the grave, stinging the fresh cuts. It wasn’t the same, but it would do.

“I know mom misses you.” A sudden thought that came into her head found itself being spoken into existence. “She never talks about you, but I can see it in her eyes. I just wish she had the damn balls to say it out loud. It’s not like she’s the only one who’s hurting.” Inhale, exhale. “It sucks, dad. It really does. Heather won’t even mention you. It’s like you just… evaporated or something.” All the times Jess would bring David up, Heather either left or changed the subject. Self-centred idiot, not wanting to face the reality of everything they lost. “Michael… sucks too. He’s a stupid termite.” He was hardly around enough to even have a worthy comment made about him. Stupid kid.

Shuffling in her place, she once again found herself gazing at the stars. “You’re up there, right?” she questioned. “I bet you’re the fat one right up there,” she commented, pointing at the sky. “Jesus, I couldn’t imagine sharing a space with that many people. Christ, no wonder they say counting the stars is impossible, I suppose they’re right.”

Jess scrambled to her feet. “Hell, I’m meant to go meet Syd now. She’ll probably be thinking I died.” Cackles escaped her lips. “Who knows, maybe she’d be better off if I did. I’ll be back ‘round tomorrow, dad. Maybe with flowers.”

With that, she walked away, careful to rub her eyes. Sydney would have enough questions, wouldn’t she? Didn’t need the obsessive crying as evidence that she was anything other than okay. Besides, it was just a conversation with her dad, nothing more. So what if it was one sided? Most conversations in her family nowadays tended to be--so what’s the difference?


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word count: 1,238
a/n: jess visits her dad's grave a lot, that's all i really gotta say this time around

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ reflection ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 22/03/2020 | character: ayla clarke | cw: n/a

Her reflection was weird. Blinking at herself, Ayla could hardly recognise herself. The dress clung to her skin. Was this her? The makeup scorched her face with each passing moment. She was sick of this. Nothing felt right when she looked in the mirror. This was meant to be how she acted?

It’s not as if the dress itself was the problem. It was a subtle dress, white with blue splotches--a combination she would’ve loved otherwise--no frills, no excess size. Her makeup was subtle, hiding the shame of the spots on her face. In terms of femininity, she would’ve been considered perfect, actually. If only it wasn’t her wearing it. Scratching at her skin, the concealer hid behind her fingernails. Palms were coated with a bright red lipstick Ayla no longer wanted to claim.

She was a lady.

Why didn’t she feel like one?

Ayla knew she was a lesbian. From a young age, actually. Men did not interest her in the slightest. Media dictated many lesbians as not conforming to femininity. Yet here she was. Conforming. Femininity claimed to be so important in the public eye--but she wasn’t feminine. Why even try? She was a tomboy for god’s sake. What was she doing conflicting her own sense of self for the sake of society? Did people’s opinions really dig under her skin so bad?

Act like a girl, be quiet, stop being so loud, come hang out. But if you hang out, be anything but yourself.

Searching her mother’s wardrobe revealed a suit from her father. Too bad he left. At least she kept the suit. Suits felt more natural. Tossing the dress aside, Ayla wiped the rest of the makeup off her face. The shirt couldn’t button up properly--otherwise it felt like she was choking. Besides--when did being formal define Ayla? Fixing the tie, Ayla admired the person staring back at her.

Perhaps it was a little baggy, but it worked. Maybe she could wear this to the first day of school.

Her reflection was right.

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word count: 339
a/n: ayla is a very masc lesbian, the idea of being feminine isn’t comfortable to her, so this was smth i wrote to explore that side.

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ work ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 07/11/2020 | character: jessica 'jess' simmons | cw: n/a

It had been a long day. A long, long day. Jess felt like she had aged ten years simply for showing up to the garage that day. Having to deal with argumentative customers drained the blonde, which was evident when she stumbled through the door.

Sydney’s shift had ended a while before, so she shuffled around the kitchen as she prepared a drink. Picking up on the door opening, she spun around and beamed towards her girlfriend. “Hey, Jessie!” she called, turning back and pouring the boiling water from the pot to the mug. “You want anything?”

Silence blared between the two for a moment. Jess slunk over to the couch and collapsed. A beat. Then, Jess piped up.

“Can I get a hug?”

A rare request from a woman who almost constantly kept her guard up. But, they were alone and Jess needed some cheering up. Something Sydney was more than happy to oblige as she skipped over, abandoning her work in progress beverage. She worked with coffee every day, Jess requesting a cuddle was rather rare. Plopping down next to her love, she wrapped her arms around Jess and pulled her tight.

Jess let out a groan of frustration as she melted into the warmth surrounding her. “I hate that stupid garage sometimes.”

“You should try working at the cafe, baby.”

“I’d kill a man if I did.”

“I know, baby.”

They slowly broke out of the hug as Sydney’s hand reached for Jess’, fingers interlocking in an intimate motion of love. Jess pressed her forehead against Sydney’s and laughed quietly.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make everything better, you know.”

Sydney’s eyes softened as she gave Jess’ hand a squeeze. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I still might sabotage somebody’s car if they’re rude enough, though.”

“Please, don’t lose your job.”

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word count: 308
a/n: i wrote this to let off some steam after i finished up an assignment. comfort oc ship if i've ever had one

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ questioning ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 22/03/2020 | characters: eloise campbell & scarlett thornton | cw: hospital setting

“Have you ever kissed anybody, Eloise?”

Confusion coated Eloise’s features. Of course she hadn’t. Why would she? Everybody in the hospital had to be sick in some way and she happened to be on the severe side. Besides, it’s not like any of the boys particularly appealed to her. They were all sick, one way or another, so she simply avoided most people when she could. Although in saying that, she avoided most of the girls too.

Except Scarlett, of course. Scarlett was her best friend.

“No.” It was a simple answer, right? It was the truth. She hadn’t even thought about it. Had Scarlett? “There’s nobody I’d want to kiss around here. Do you know anybody?”

“Maybe.” Scarlett tugged at her IV machine as she adjusted her position in her seat. The room was rather empty now, with most patients having familial visits. Eloise’s family had gone out to get a takeaway to bring back while Scarlett was lucky if her mother came to visit her once a week. It didn’t seem to bother the redhead too much at least.

Maybe? Who could Scarlett have met? Sure, compared to Eloise, over the years they had gotten to know each-other Scarlett had grown to be more outgoing and talkative to other patients their age. It was more of a surprise that she just didn’t know who it was.

“Who?”

“You know her,” Scarlett teased. While she teased, her eyes flashed with a seriousness that Eloise had not found herself adjusted to. Her eyes clouded in confusion.

“Her?” Eloise questioned. That was an option? Eloise had grown up with the rom-coms and shows on selection in the hospital. Not once had it displayed two women getting together—it was always the man and woman receiving her happy ending. For a long time, Eloise had concluded that she’d probably be better off alone. She hadn’t considered there could be another option.

Yet before she could fully process the idea of two girls having a happy ending, she felt lips press against hers. Her eyes clenched shut. Scarlett’s lips were soft. Every lip she had stared at that belonged to a man appeared to be rough in nature. Unappealing. She could never understand how her lips would press against a man’s and she would feel butterflies from the thought. Kissing Scarlett--a woman--felt different. Right.

“Ah… w-wow,” Eloise stammered out after a moment of silence. Her hands ran across the back of her head, tangling in her hair. Scarlett blinked back, tilting her head.

“Well?”

“That… f-felt, well--I’ve, uh, never h-had my first--until now, well, never had my first kiss, uh-” She could feel her face blush. “C-Can we… y-you know, can we do that--, well, again?”

Of course, Eloise never had to ask twice.

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word count: 460
a/n: i need to write these sweeties more. this is their first ever kiss! though definitely not the last!

[fali.]

╱ ╯- ❝ on the hilltop ! ❞
╱ ╯- written: 08/06/2020 | characters: billina upland-thropp & imari | cw: emetophobia (?)

Tonight was a nice night. Billina usually enjoyed staying home--curled on the couch, wrapped in blankets while watching whatever shows Auradon had to offer. However, she couldn’t help but accept the offer of an outing from the charming client turned friend Imari. He was a nice person. Similar upbringings, similar personalities--everything seemed to click. Well, as much as they could click for Billina.

Romance was never exactly something Billina was interested in. Not just in preference--at all. Romance repulsed her, intimacy repulsed her. Any sort of romantic intent and Billina bailed. It wasn’t her fault. It’s… just what biology dictated for her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t try. Dating for the dance seemed to go okay if it weren’t for the slow dance. The physical intimacy of being so close to another person who intended to progress into a romantic relationship threatened to make her sick.

But… Imari was just her friend. They sat on top of a hill, perched on a bench that gave a view of mainland Auradon. A friend was all Billina really needed to be content. Elvina was her sister and Billina very much enjoyed her company where it could be provided--but she was spending a lot more time with Gwen recently. Sometimes, Billina longed to just know what romantic love felt like, to know what she was missing out on when she couldn’t physically feel it.

“This was nice.” Billina stared at the stars as she leaned against Imari, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is.” His voice was soft, kind, harmless--as someone who came from the Isle, Billina would usually be terrified of him. Yet he was friendly, like he couldn’t hurt a fly. “What would you be doing right now if we weren’t here?”

“Oh… just making sure my flowers were tended to. Oh--I hope they’re not wilting now.” Billina shuffled from her position to sit up. “It’s just been one night, surely they wouldn’t die--but what if they do, oh…” Her nails dug into the pals of her hand as her feet gently tapped against the ground.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Imari soothed, turning to face the green female beside him. “It’s just one night.”

“It’s just one night,” Billina repeated, breath slowing down. They sat on the bench, foreheads resting as Billina fell calm once again. “Sorry, I--”

“Don’t apologise, what do you have to be sorry for?”

Billina opened her mouth to say ‘sorry’ again before catching herself, glancing away. This… is when you were meant to feel something, right? She watched the movies and heard the stories. Even Elphaba and Glinda would tell the stories of their trip to the Emerald City, how they shared their first kiss before being separated. How they just knew they would love the other for the rest of their lives. If life were a movie, people like her wouldn’t be the protagonist and they’d share a kiss before the credits rolled.

Wait--if life wasn’t a movie, how come he was leaning in to kiss her like it was?

Billina shot back, eyes widened in shock and hand clamped over her mouth as if their lips collided. Shaking her head, a flurry of tears rushed down her cheeks. “No--no, no, no, don’t do that,” she pleaded, wiping her cheeks. “Please, no, don’t kiss me, please, no, I don’t like that.”

Imari backed away to give her space, but tilted his head in confusion. “Is--is it me?” he stuttered out. He didn’t mean to hurt her of course--Billina was his friend first and foremost, but… he thought there had to be something there.

“No, no, of course not. It’s me, I mean that--it’s me, uh…” Billina glances away. “Ellie said there was a term for this, ah, what was it--aromantic asexual? Mama taught her it at one point, I think. I… I don’t like romance. At all. It makes me--feel sick, I’m sorry. I can’t--I can’t feel that way, I’ve tried but I can’t.”

“There’s a word for that?” Imari questioned, relief glittered in his tone. Billina’s head rose in confusion, tear stained eyes staring up at the male.

“Y-Yeah, there is--why?”

“I--I thought I had to kiss you. I thought this is how it meant to go. I thought you wanted this.” A shaking breath escaped his lips. “You really don’t want romance? At all?”

Billina shook her head, a choked laughter escaping her. “No. I just want a friend, Imari.”

“I’ve never felt love before in my life. Even my cousin Kesi felt it, even if she likes to pretend she hates the girl. And she’s the most heartless person I know, even if it is an act.” He cleared his own eyes, freeing them of any straying tears. “I thought I was broken. I really did. There’s other people like me--like us?”

Billina shuffled closer. Foreheads touched once again as the two sobbed their fears away. “Yeah. It took me a while to accept it. But… according to Ellie, according to mama and mom... there’s nothing wrong with us.” She opened her eyes, glazed with understanding at his pain. “Can we just be friends?” Another tear strayed down her cheek.

“Of course we can. What else can we be?” Imari chuckled, reaching up and wiping the tear away from Billina’s eyes. “We’ll be great friends.”


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word count: 893
a/n: AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES!!! billina and imari find a huge friend and comfort in each other. i adore them very, very much.