Jan 31, 2024
This is Nuae, my loving and wonderful buff monk elf. Yes, her lover is Astarion, SHAMELESSLY
seen from Australia
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Singapore
seen from Russia
This is Nuae, my loving and wonderful buff monk elf. Yes, her lover is Astarion, SHAMELESSLY
Theo James has almost too much penis. Poor Tris Prior. I hope they did yoga in Dauntless.
This little Alpha of Mine
Another Steter au.. thing. enjoy~
Fem!Stiles/Peter Hale, Werecreature!Stiles
Half the population of Beacon Hills was overwhelmed with horror and pity when the Beacon County Sherrif’s office posted the missing person notice of one Maczysz ‘Max’ Stilinski. Her vehicle had been found in the parking lot of the Preserve lake with busted windows and blood coating the door and seats. Of course, the public didn’t know about the blood, Hale Pack had cleaned it up for John so there wouldn’t be any questions about why it looked more like a crime scene instead of a case of abduction.
That isn’t to say that Hale pack was completely calm, either. All eight of them, plus a young Scott McCall, his mother, and Jeorek ‘John’ Stilinski were hit with multiple levels of frustration and worry that only grew to be more so with the more time that passed. The few tips the police department did get proved to be mostly duds and, after a week of her being gone with no credible lead, her case went cold. The deputies and police still looked for her, of course, they just weren’t expecting to find her alive.
The pitying looks John got from work almost drove him to drink again, the knowledge that his daughter would come back from the grave just to kick his ass if he ever picked up the bottle again was the only thing that kept him from going back down that path. Scott, who had gotten into fights regularily when people said they were sorry for his loss, refused to believe that she was dead, never stopped looking. Hale Pack, too, had his back with this assessment, especially when Peter told them that they would be able to feel it if she were dead, through their pack bonds.
It had also caused a burning shame at the realization that only Scott, Isaac, Vernon, and Peter had pack bonds with the eccentric Stilinski. It had caused a rift in the pack for a few days before everyone swore to be better when they found her.
Sometimes that vow was what kept them all together.
It was only because of the wards Max had put up around the old Hale house that he had been able to dodge the attack from Ennis, giving him just enough time for the rage and fury that had been bubbling under his skin for the past month of her disappearance to come to the surface in a vicious arch of claws that easily gouged out the tissue and muscle of his right shoulder, rendering it obsolete - at least for a few moments.
They fought and fought until Ennis had his claws at Peter’s throat, sneering down at him in victory.
The next instant he was on the ground screaming in fury and pain as a Fox / Coyote hybrid tore at the back of his neck with its teeth, platinum coat with russet furs scattered like a blush on its forehead and spine and black patches on its ears and in the center of its tail. It growled and gnawed until his spinal cord snapped and his screams had long since died, it continued after for good measure until his head was completely removed from his body. A fitting slow death for the murderous bastard if Peter did say so himself.
He did not move when it turned its blood coated maw to him, licking at its chops with lowered ears as if it didn’t approve of the taste. Well, that bode(bade?) well for him, didn’t it?
Or so he thought until the hybrid approached him and gave a long lick to one of the healing wounds on his arm. He seized when an accompanying growl came from the door, a Coyote flashing brilliant blues in warning, jerking back only when his flashed back.
“How incredibly unhygienic,” he mused, brow-raising when she huffed in amusement and licked at another one of his wounds across his chest, speeding the healing of his wounds. “And who is the Princess Charming to my oh so elegant Damsel in distress?” a low whine that time, accompanied by her ears pricking up at the various footsteps rushing towards them (from yards away but that only secured his theory further). She gave a single growl like yip at the Coyote at the door, nuzzled her nose against Peter’s neck, and promptly left out the back with her Coyote friend in tow.
Something that interested him considering Fox’s weren’t pack animals. If she truly was a hybrid werefox/coyote then it would make sense as to why she was accompanied by a werecoyote, they tended to hunt in pairs and stay in family groups. She had understood him too and then scented him in a very intimate way. Regardless, she had saved his life - Max would’ve killed him if he died before finding her - and had lowered the threat of the Alpha pack that had made its way to Beacon Hills.
He wasn’t expecting to see her again, but he did.
Right as the second month passed after Max had gone missing Isaac and Scott had the great idea of forcing the Werecoyote to shift, thinking her a Malia Tate who had gone missing when she was eight or so with her little sister. He had found out too late, and thus was coming onto the scene of Isaac and the hybrid staring at one another, hunkered to the ground as if she were afraid with shrill whines leaving her maw. When Scott’s roar sounded through the forest her Alpha red’s flashed and a shrill howl left her. It wasn’t in challenge, it wasn’t even in answer, no it was released in grief at the loss of a pack member.
“No, wait-!” he tried, but the moment he took a step forward she was bolting into the woods, disappearing just as a shirtless Scott cleared the tree lines, escorting a very unsteady teenage girl with his shirt on. Her nose rose in the air when the wind blew, whining low. “You’re an idiot,” Peter cursed Scott, then blinked when she rushed to him, stumbling slightly over her own feet, and buried her face into his bicep to try and smother herself in his scent. “You just broke a pack up, if you were going to do this to the one you should’ve done it to the other.” He didn’t bother to try and explain why she was relaxing at his smell - didn’t quite understand it either honestly - and didn’t even think when he wrapped his arm around her protectively.
He didn’t know who either of them was but they had saved his life and that was something he wouldn’t forget. Not when they could be potential pack members, not when something was nagging at the back of his head about both of them.
“The other one?” Scott questioned numbly, looking pained as the small victory was taken from him. “Isaac, what other one?”
“There was another one, Scott, an Alpha. It uh, it looked like a Fox, coyote, wolf thing.” he was rubbing at his chest with a frown. “I don’t know about this one man, Peter’s right. She sounded so… sad.” Malia whimpered when she looked over the forest line, then buried deeper when she couldn’t catch sight of her den mate.
When she was safely stowed away in the back of John’s police cruiser she immediately began trying to get to the picture of Max and John standing together smiling on his dash. Peter didn’t understand why until she began whimpering in earnest and trying to form words that she no longer remembered how to properly form. “Max,” it sounded like she was saying it around food in her mouth, but the name was there. “Maaaax.” her fingers wiggled through the little metal railings that separated the back and front of the police cruiser.
“Of course,” Peter hissed, drawing together the points and small observations he had made along with his theories. “Max!” and then he was shedding his clothes and launching into the air, shifting so that he could chase after her faster than his two legs would carry him. He searched all night and all the next day but found no trace of her. The pack even joined him the next night, Derek having ‘appropriated’ the memory Malia had of Max. Derek actually trusted his uncle to view the memories he had seen, especially since it had to deal with Max.
Turns out Malia had watched her face off against Kali - the one who had drug Max (she had a lot of cuts and smelled mostly of ozone and blood) through her window and presumably broke the others - and use her Spark to send rose vines through her Silent Hill style before, at last, it decapitated her and drug her body to the earth to serve as food for the Nemeton. Malia had padded forward to initially eat Max but had been surprised by the way she faltered against the ground, clutching at her abdomen with red-stained skin, a fresh bite in plain view on her forearm. She was rapidly smelling like not food and more like her kind, so she waited.
Max had greeted the Werecoyote as her skin began to flush with fever. She told her briefly her name and how, if she were lucky, the bite would take and she’d get to be actual pack and wouldn’t die. Malia hadn’t understood, but Peter did, and so did Derek when he viewed the memory. It was their first clue in a long ass time-
It did nothing to alleviate the frustration, it only added to it actually. How could they not have thought that she would’ve been targeted by the Alpha pack, how could they not have assumed or thought about the fact that she could've been bitten or turned?
No, they didn’t see Max until she was saving Scott from the Darach who had tried to lunge at the newly appointed ‘True Alpha’, maw locked around her throat while her claws dug at her chest, trying for her heart. Deucalion and Peter were grateful for her savagery, were impressed by it, but Scott and Derek were too focused on the fact that she smelled like fury and grief. They were too focused that this was Max, that this was the smiling girl who was always cooking or baking for them, that was always comforting Erica and Vernon through their traumatic memories. This was the woman who was always scenting them, the one who had been the glue keeping them all together.
“Max,” Peter breathed, chest rumbling comfortingly when she rubbed her head against his neck, ears and tail hanging low with her building nerves.
“It seems,” Deucalion drawled as he crouched over the dead Darach, “that your friend is stuck in her shift.” he shoved his hand into the ragged flesh and tendon that Max had made of the Darach’s chest and ripped out her heart, then without so much as a secondary glance at the body, rolled the heart to the Hybrid. “If you eat that it will re-balance your energies and you’ll shift back.”
“I could just force her shift, I’ve done it before.” Scott protested, not trusting the Alpha of Alpha’s. Peter dug his hand into the fur of her flank and soothed her pitched growls. If Peter was surprised when she actually shifted to lean more into him then he didn’t show it outwardly, no he was focusing mainly on the fact that her pack bond came into full strength when she did.
“It won’t work on Max like it did with Malia,” Peter told him, kneeling so that he was at eye level with her. “She shifted as she was dying, the last of her Spark most likely is the reason she even turned.” he picked up the heart and stilled Max when she took a threatening step forward at Scott when he growled at Peter. “It’s okay,” he soothed, taking the fact that Scott had actually retreated with a groan when her amber red/orange Alpha eyes flashed at him. “Max, eat this, okay?”
It was only because it was him who had offered the heart to her that she was eating it, he knew this and it filled him with equal parts joy and smug arrogance. He was shrugging off his jacket and scarf the moment she finished eating, readying for when she shifted back and her inevitable nakedness.
“Was it under your orders that Kali attacked Max?” If his answer was yes then Peter would kill him himself.
“No,” a truth, “Kali regularly acted on her own, it does not surprise me that she met her end from one of her victims.” another truth, Scott flinched away.
“She killed Kali?” it was said in pain and hurt - as if she had done so to personally slight the teenager.
“Out of self-defense you idiot,” Peter hissed, eyes never leaving Max as she began scratching at her ears, whining low in her throat. “considering that she would’ve died if she were a human, I’d say it was completely justifiable. She killed Ennis too, saving my life, and that bitch over there saving your life.”
“Then I’ve been trying to recruit the wrong wolves.” Deucalion murmured, sitting down with a heavy sigh so as to accept whatever fate befell him now. Honestly… he was ready for death, he had his sight back and with the death of his pack - whose bonds he couldn’t even feel them die through - his anger was dimmed. He no longer had a purpose, no longer had a plan. If he were being completely honest he was relieved.
He joined them as they watched the hybrid shake and cry, lowering itself fully onto the floor with her body pressed as tight against Peter’s as she could get it. He was stunned when platinum fur receded into fair human skin dotted with moles and freckles like constellations. She was lanky, maybe five foot six at most, and had hair that reminded him of sunlight and laughter in a meadow that dropped to the middle of her back. She couldn’t be any older than eighteen,
“Peter?” It was guttural and high pitched and it was perfect. Her hands shook when they reached for his face, trembling even when her fingertips ghosted over his scruff. She was naked and lying half on top of his lap but she was back, her whine and relief hit him full force when he sank his cheek into her palm, jacket covering up her naked skin from their prying eyes. “Peter!” and then she was launching into him, limbs at awkward angles as they scrambled to try and find purchase so she could press completely into him. “PeterPeterPeter.” she whined, burying her nose into his neck to drown herself in his scent.
“I’ve got you, Max, I’m here.” he soothed, hefting her into his arms and against his chest to soothe both of them. He had gone so long without her that he had forgotten what it felt like to have her, forgotten her scent of Sandalwood and ozone, forgotten how her touch always sent warmth straight to his heart and relaxed him in ways he never thought possible. “I’m here.” he wasn’t going to let her go again, not after having lost her.
Until the Flavor’s Gone (3/?) (Biadore) - Kitschy Pixel
AN – So this chapter took a bit longer than the first two because first I was busy and then I just couldn’t stop writing the thing. Hopefully it’s worth it. And hey, remember when I said I was playing fast and loose with continuity and queen relationships because this is an AU and I can? You’re about to see an example of that. I debated this and then thought “Imma do it”.
Anyway, welcome to chapter three aka that chapter that makes you think “Oh, this wasn’t that much of a slow burn after all” but spoiler alert: it is.
Warnings include: not-quite-smut with suggested nudity, age gap mentions, crude and very direct language that you’d come to expect from these two, and Danny being insecure as all get out. I think that’s everything?
Chapter Three
It took the rest of the week – the day before he and Jay were set to leave on a plane back to their normal lives, to be exact – for Danny to find himself back at that club for that drink he’d promised himself he’d try to grab. It took about an hour of vague and non-committal answers to Jay’s thousands of questions for him to shake the other for the night. Though the suggestive eyebrow waggle Jay shot him as he finally conceded to let Danny go his own direction was probably a bit uncalled for. Maybe. Most likely.
He arrived about an hour early and loitered around the bar, trying his best not to seem obvious or nervous and frankly failing. He kept staring at the stage and fidgeting with his hands and the only reason he even bought a drink to begin with was just to have something to hold. There weren’t very many people yet, most being just bar patrons who kept clustered to the source of their alcohol.
He sipped at his cocktail absent-mindedly as he rehearsed through what he would say. Try to be clever, but not too clever! Stay direct. Let him know that you really did appreciate the stage slot and the make-up advice. He’s obviously got his shit together. His act is great, his look is great, his ass looks great out of drag – no! No wait, don’t say that.
Danny sighed heavily into his drink and just stared into his glass as his long ago shelved desire to sleep with an older man started rapping insistently on his consciousness. It’s that fucking smile, he reasoned to himself, as if this attraction could be solely blamed on a perfect set of teeth and brown eyes that Danny could safely drown in, if you could safely drown in anything.
Shit, I forgot about his eyes…
He hiccupped at the sudden jump in his heartbeat before he downed the rest of his drink to try to burn away the growing lump in his throat. Instead? He almost choked. He sputtered and fought the urge to cough before he patted down his chest and let out a sigh. Okay, focus, he thought to himself, What are you doing?
Not that he was given a lot of time to really rethink his whole approach. From the corner of his eye he saw a very familiar hairstyle breeze past him, stopping only when someone approached for some brief small talk before heading back on a narrow path to backstage. He felt himself shift forward and before he knew it, he was caught into a gravitational pull and forced into the orbit of a much bigger undiscovered star. Danny followed obediently, sneaking backstage (which wasn’t hard) and hovering awkwardly in a dressing room full of drag queens preparing for the show.
Bianca was the only one already dressed, having arrived in full drag. Probably easier, Danny reasoned to himself absent-mindedly. He chewed on his lip and paused a moment when he realized now that he was here, he had no idea how to actually approach Bianca without seeming creepy.
“Hey there sweetheart, you look a little lost!”
Danny jumped when he recognized the young queen from the first night at his elbow and beaming at him. He managed a timid ‘hello’ before the queen hyperactively introduced herself.
“Oh don’t be shy! You’re from the other night, aren’t ‘cha? I remember you! I’m Billie Wicked–” she flinched slightly at the snide remark to change that name filtered from behind them before widening her smile and soldiering on, “–what are you doing back here? You’re not a queen, are you? You’d make a good one – oh wait!” Her eyes got wider as she started to shakily connect the dots, “That’s right! You were talking to Bianca!”
“Billie! Down girl, good lord, let him breathe!” Speaking of the devil herself, Bianca sidled up behind Billie and grasped her by the elbows. “Go finish getting ready, okay? I’ll take care of this.” She waited until Billie was mostly out of earshot before blowing out a sigh, “Sorry – she’s not the brightest but she makes up for it with sweetness, bless her sugary and over-accessorized heart. Why are you skulking around here, California?” Danny gently reminded her of his name and Bianca nodded, “Yes, right. Danny. Wasn’t there another with you?”
Danny tackled the easy question first, saying he came alone before he cleared his throat to buy enough time to collect himself, “I was just… I’m leaving New York tomorrow and I had time so I thought I’d come back just to thank you again for what you did…”
“That really wasn’t a problem, but you’re welcome. Thank you for not choking or being awful, otherwise it would have become one. Come on, let me show you back out…”
It must have been that smile again, or the warmth from those fingers on his back that made Danny stand a bit taller as Bianca started to steer him back to the main floor. It could have been the haze from the drink he’d downed earlier settling on his brain that numbed him to his nerves. Whatever it was, something was responsible for the next bit of word vomit Danny spewed and he’d already decided he couldn’t be held accountable.
“Look – “ he spun around to look at Bianca’s face, pushing aside how stunned he was that she managed to make such a clownish approach to her make-up look so appealing, “Seriously, thank you. I’d never been on a stage like that before and it was such a wonderful rush and I’m so thankful that you gave that to me and I just really want you to understand how appreciative I am for that.”
“Believe me, I’m beginning to…”
Danny cut her off before she got too far, leaning in and concentrating hard on keeping his voice steady at a low volume, “I’m super bad at being coy and playing hard to get so I’m just going to be straight up honest with you and hope to god you find that charming…” One deep breath in and spill the truth, “I’ve taken more showers today than I have this entire trip, my ass smells like vanilla or linen or what the fuck ever, and I’m nervous as fuck but I just want to fuck you… or have you fuck me… or just suck your dick… any of it.”
He immediately cringed at how desperate he sounded, coming to a verbal screeching halt and pushing himself away from Bianca as he frantically tried to back pedal, “But you turned down those guys last week and it’s so fucking obvious that you’d do the same to me and I’m realizing really fast that this was a really big fucking mistake…”
Bianca recovered from her initial shock from the very blunt offer before holding up her hands in an attempt to placate the downward spiral that was spinning before her, “Okay, hold up. Calm the fuck down…” a giggle crept into her words, but it didn’t sting Danny’s pride like he thought it should, “I’m honestly flattered. Just… Christ… calm down before you hyperventilate.”
There was another long sigh and two hands gripped Danny’s shoulders as Bianca tried to collect her own thoughts on the matter at hand. She squeezed a little and a few breathy bits of laughter escaped before she smoothed down the shoulders of Danny’s jacket. “I really am flattered,” she nodded down the hallway to the main floor. “Stay for the show, okay? There’s some really talented bitches going on stage tonight so I think it might be worth you coming out here. Maybe I’ll see you after.”
–––––––––––––––––––––
Danny couldn’t seem to decide if that ‘maybe’ tacked on to Bianca’s parting words was a promise or merely a polite rejection to keep him from suffocating on his own mortification. It was that off-chance glimmer of something resembling hope that kept him from slinking out that door and back to his hotel room to lick his wounds in peace.
So he stayed for the show, keeping towards the back and the alcohol to the minimum. He was glad he did. It was a good show made better by Bianca’s humor and flair, even if it was brutal and scathing. He couldn’t tell if the judgemental bitch act was just that or if it held a grain of truth to it. Maybe it was both, but it managed to make him laugh none the less. He was glad he stayed, he reminded himself.
And when it was over, he was a bit unsure what to do with himself. Did he stay and hope he could talk to Bianca (or Roy, he supposed) again? Or did he just high tail it out of there to try to minimize whatever damage he’d done? He supposed the latter was the safer option, though he still took his time leaving. The sting of rejection brought on by his own stupid mouth lingered a little but it’d be okay, he reasoned. Tomorrow he’d leave and probably never show his face in this entire city again. No big deal.
He was outside trying – and failing – to hail a cab so he could get back to his hotel. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a hefty sigh and prepared himself to just up and walk the six miles back. He needed to try to come up with a less pathetic story to tell Jay when he got back anyway, may as well stall the inevitable.
A hand on his elbow jarred him out of his decision.
“We can share a cab if you’re willing to split the fare.”
Danny turned to see Bianca, still in drag and with a smile. He offered up a sheepish one in return.
“You’d do that?”
“We’d be headed to the same destination, right? Unless you’ve changed your mind…”
“No…”
“Then come on. Before I change mine.”
–––––––––––––––––––––
The ride to Bianca’s apartment was quiet and Danny decided for once in his life to keep it that way. Meanwhile, his heart thundered in his chest and he tried to hide the obvious red in his cheeks by decisively staring very intently out the window.
They didn’t speak until they crossed that threshold and Danny’s legs were instantly investigated by two very curious balls of fluff.
“Hope you like dogs.”
Danny instantly beamed and began to coo at them, as he crouched down and let them sniff his fingers. “I love dogs. They’re adorable!” He missed the small smile shot in his direction as the two pups instantly approved of his presence. He heard the vague sound of Bianca setting down the clutch she carried and her keys before he was drawn further into the apartment.
“I’m not drunk enough to do this in drag,” the clatter of shoes being kicked off and another sigh, “You’re not in a hurry are you?”
“No. My flight’s not until late tomorrow. I’ve got all night if you do.”
“Convenient and… obnoxiously charming,” that last bit was said with a tone of exasperation that Danny had to fight not to smirk about. He curled his lips over his top teeth and forced his mouth closed before he looked up to see Bianca flick what he assumed was a bathroom light on and disappear before the sound of running water filtered from behind the door. He got up and ventured further, eight paws trotting after him as he took in his surroundings.
It was small, as one would expect a New York apartment would be, but it was organized – every bit of space utilized to its maximum potential. “Wow,” he whispered as he took a step towards the designated sewing area that was shoved in one corner. He busied himself with looking at the sketches and fabric swatches that were spread across the table, staying mindful not to touch out of fear he might upset some sort of delicate balance and throw off whatever meticulous system had been put into place.
He headed back to the hallway, suddenly aware of his thudding heartbeat again when he heard the water still. He swallowed as the door opened and he was faced with Roy, freshly showered, with a very small smile, a towel, and not much else.
“Last chance to back out and spare my feelings,” he quipped as Danny gaped and shook his head.
“I’m good,” Danny managed to breathe out before he leaned forward, cupped Roy’s face in his hands and kissed him.
There was that split second of clarity as something sparked with the initial contact of lips against lips. It was followed by another split second of What the fuck am I doing? before Danny’s inhibitions were thrown to the wayside and completely forgotten. He got lost in a fiery and flurried fierceness that fogged up his cognitive functions faster than any drink or drug could dream. Could you get intoxicated from a kiss of a near stranger? He assumed if that kiss tasted like spearmint mouthwash and a hint of – was that wine? – that it would be entirely possible. Whatever it was shot straight down, coiled tight and made him gasp.
With nothing but the faint glow of the blue-white light of a bathroom vanity to guide them, they travelled the short distance to Roy’s bedroom. They’d stumbled a bit at the door. Danny groaned when his back hit the wood, both sets of hands scrambling to simultaneously rid him of his clothes and turn the handle. He nearly tripped backwards when Roy managed to push it open, narrowly escaping his fall by Roy grabbing his forearm to keep him upright and using that momentum to steer him to the bed.
Danny vaguely recalled losing his jacket and shirt at some point in the struggle. It was entirely possible that it was his shirt that was the culprit of him nearly colliding with the floor. There was a soft curse when they hit the mattress. He didn’t know who made it or even what it was. He completely forgot exactly when he managed to kick off his jeans. Or if Roy’d just pulled them off. He favored the second option whenever he’d think back on it in the future.
The rest of it, though – he’d remember clear as crystal.
–––––––––––––––––––––
It was daylight by the time Danny managed to fully open his eyes and he groaned a little as he pushed himself out of bed. His brain felt blurry from lack of sleep, his body was sore, and his skin felt grimy but a dopey smile still curled at the very edges of his lips as he started to collect his clothes. Last night (or early this morning, however you wanted to look at it) had been pretty fucking good.
He checked the time on his phone as it clattered from his pants pocket before he pulled them on and wandered out to the hallway to gather his shirt and jacket. He sneaked into the bathroom to pee and was able to get a good look at himself.
Essentially, he looked like he’d been thoroughly fucked. His hair was sticking up at awkward angles, there were dark circles under his eyes from the aforementioned minimal sleep, and he sported at least one hickey that he could see near his collarbone. The dopey smile turned into a mischievous smirk. He felt a little satisfied with himself.
And why shouldn’t he?
Danny just had – maybe not mindblowing sex – but definitely above the standard sex. Really good sex. His fingers ached a little from gripping the side of the bed kind of sex. So… great sex… with a guy he found to be kind of interesting. And sure, he was about to sneak out of that guy’s apartment and do the walk of shame to the nearest cab back to his hotel room and he was going to be on the literal opposite corner of the country by the end of tonight, but god damn, it was worth it. Right?
He turned on the sink and cupped his hands under the trickle of water before splashing his face and trying to get his hair to behave. He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly before throwing his shirt over shoulders, jacket still in hand before he went on to find exactly where he’d kicked off his shoes.
He ran into Roy instead.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
Danny’s eyes flitted over Roy’s figure, his mind’s eye filling in what that black tank top and joggers now covered before he cleared his throat and replied, albeit a little raspy.
“Yeah… I… um… thanks for letting me stay, I was just going to… you know… go. Once I find my shoes…”
“They’re near the door,” Roy offered flatly before he followed Danny down the hall only to detour to the kitchen when he could. Danny sat down on the floor to pull on his sneakers before he stood back up and started to actually button his shirt. Or attempted to.
“Shit…”
It came out a bit louder than he wanted, Roy rounding the corner from his kitchen and shooting a look towards the entryway. “You o–?” he trailed a bit as he raised an eyebrow at Danny’s current dilemma. “Oh.” There was a low snicker that faded off into soundless laughter before he shook his head. “Shit. Damn. I suppose that’s my fault.” He gestured with the coffee cup in his hand to the several missing buttons that made the shirt in question gap in an odd manner. He set the cup aside and held up a finger to delay Danny’s incoming whine. “Hold up, don’t panic. I can fix that easy if you don’t have to be anywhere this instant.”
Danny could only process one thing at a time as he stared down at the missing buttons, “You’re such an asshole…” he managed to squeak out and Roy could only roll his eyes.
“Well aware, and yet I’m going to fix it if you can spare like… an hour, not even that but let’s say an hour just for the hell of it. Can you spare an hour?”
“Yeah…”
“Then quit pouting, shut up, and take off your shirt.” That strange, soothing giggle Danny had heard last night lifted the lilt of the command and helped soften it a little, making it easier for him to comply. He shrugged off his shirt and handed it over to Roy before the other man gestured to the kitchen, “I’m not the type to cook anyone breakfast but I can at least offer coffee if you want it.”
Danny accepted the offer and soon he was settled with a warm mug on Roy’s couch as he watched the other get out a sewing kit and begin to rifle through his stash of notions to find similar enough buttons to at least look passable. Danny brought his knees up to his chest as he watched Roy set to work, tilting his head as he searched for something – anything – to say. He settled on repeating himself.
“Thank you, again… for, you know. Letting me stay here.”
“Not a problem,” Roy’s voice was distant as he worked but he was obviously still listening as he threaded a needle and got to work replacing the – three, he discovered – buttons that had gone missing since last night. “Felt it would be a dick move to let you fend for yourself at four in the morning in a city you don’t live in… and I didn’t have to work at the shop today so I wouldn’t have to kick you out right away anyway.”
“The shop?”
“Costume shop,” Roy lifted his eyes for a second as he answered, another smirk at Danny’s perplexed expression. “Day job. No way I could survive in this city on a drag queen’s salary, let’s be honest here.”
“So wait…” Danny set his coffee aside and shifted forward. “You’re like… a professional when it comes to sewing shit?”
Roy’s laugh was almost shy before he cut it short and nodded, “Yeah,” Danny was beginning to really like that soft smile that did just enough to bring out those indents in his cheeks. Roy flicked his eyes up to Danny once again, pausing to snip the thread before moving on to the next button, his fingers manipulating the needle in a well-practiced, fluid motion. “You make it sound like that’s impressive…”
“It is!” Danny beamed, “Holy shit, so do you make all of your dresses then?”
“Most. What I don’t make, I’ve usually altered…”
“Fuck, man. I can’t sew for shit. I can barely hot glue shit together. What kind of stuff do you make at the costume shop?” He quickly clarified when he saw Roy’s eyebrow quirk, quip loaded and ready, “I know costumes, smart ass. But like… for what?”
Roy leaned back as he snipped the thread of the second button before rolling his shoulder and pausing to think, “Bit of everything. I’ve done anything from runway shows to ballet to theater…” He paused again at Danny’s enthusiastic ‘cool’ before he rolled his eyes, but the self-satisfied smirk escaped no one.
“Is that how you got into drag? Making costumes and stuff?”
“Sort of? Not really a remarkable story behind that. Something I kind of picked up and never could seem to put down again… now it’s just an extra source of income.”
“Damn. How long have you done it?”
Roy paused in thought and exhaled slowly, “Since I was twenty so… fifteen…ish… almost sixteen years?”
And there it was – a number placed on the age gap that Danny was aware of, maybe even craving a little. It made it supremely real as opposed to some sort of specter that floated in the back of Danny’s mind. And it was weird. Not the age gap itself, but how little he thought of it. Should he be bothered? Did it even matter? Sitting on this guy’s couch, sipping the coffee he’d offered, and watching him replace the buttons he’d torn off late last night (early this morning), Danny figured it really didn’t. He pressed his lips together and sucked in a breath, ready to blurt something out when he realized he’d let the silence run into awkward lengths.
Roy beat him to it.
“What about you?”
“Me what?”
Roy shrugged one shoulder and waved a little towards Danny in a vague gesture as he paused in his task, “How long have you done it?”
“What? Drag? Oh…” Danny slumped further into the corner of the couch and cleared his throat, “No, that’s… that’s mostly Jay’s thing…” That was technically true. It was very much Jay’s thing. “I let him paint my face sometimes for practice and we were trying to kill time so…” Now it was starting to meander into ‘fibbing’ territory. For a mental check list worth of reasons, he wasn’t compelled to tell Roy about the polish remover queen Adore Delano he had residing in his closet. “He wouldn’t shut up about how you helped him, though.” And there was the flat out lie.
The seasoned queen raised an eyebrow and looked at Danny with scepticism before he slowly drawled, “Let me see if I got this right…” He deliberately slowed his work on the final button, drawing it out for as long as he could. “Jay’s the baby queen who takes you to shows and you’re the supportive friend who just so happens to reap the benefits of Jay having a somewhat memorable drag mother?”
“You never did explain how you and Alyssa know each other…”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
“You said my singing wasn’t that big of a deal…”
“No. Getting you on that stage wasn’t that big of a deal to me. You singing in front of that crowd was very much a big deal to you, you made that plainly obvious,” Roy clarified, gesturing between the two of them and obviously alluding to the events of the night before (or very early morning). He plucked the last stray thread from Danny’s shirt and tossed it over to him. “Try that. They should be even.”
“You’re a fucking miracle worker.”
“Far from,” He leaned back in his seat and watched Danny carefully as the other pulled his shirt onto his shoulders and started to button it from the bottom upwards. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”
Danny stood and tugged the edges of his shirt to check that the buttons were in fact even, “I don’t see why it matters.”
“Just humor me.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before he shrugged, “Jay didn’t have any drag with him and I didn’t need drag to get up there…”
“So you do have drag…”
“I… no?” Danny flinched at the crack in his voice that made that into a question.
“Convincing,” Roy leaned forward and looked Danny up and down in a way that made him fidget. He was calculating something in his head – and it was making Danny feel rather uneasy. Not so much like he was prey – that would turn him on a little bit, if he was to be completely honest – more like he was a puzzle. For some reason, that was worse. “How’d you and Jay meet?”
Shit. Danny squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height before he picked his coffee mug back up to take one last swig and looked down at Roy from over his nose. “None of your fucking business.”
There was a hint of a smirk before Roy stood with his hands held up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll drop the subject – but for the record? I think ‘Adore’ fits you better than ‘Violet’.”
“I…” Danny stood stock still as all the air left his body like he’d been kicked in the ribs. His mouth gaped as he floundered for some kind of comeback but could only stammer out a very high pitched “…how?”
That smirk turned triumphant as Roy walked over to take the empty coffee mug from Danny’s slacking grip. “You know the modern world is fantastic? If person A wants to contact person B… there’s countless of ways to do it just from the palm of your hand.” He held up his phone and Danny groaned in response, sinking back down to the couch.
“You talked to Alyssa…”
“I sent him a text after you two stopped by the first time to make sure you were the real deal. He told me your drag names – couldn’t remember which one you were using so he gave me both,” Roy spoke over the running water as he rinsed out the mug and started to clean the few dishes that had piled up the last couple of days. “So you wanna try this conversation again?”
“Not really…” Danny shrugged on his jacket that he’d abandoned in the entryway, his face bright red from embarrassment – nope – more like that pesky mortification rearing its ugly head again. “It was nice meeting you,” he gritted out before checking his pockets to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything and then heading out the door.
–––––––––––––––––––––
He got to the top of the stairs before Roy caught up with him. He didn’t get a chance to speak before Danny cut him off. “Anyone tell you that you’re a fucking asshole?”
“All the fucking time, but shit… I fixed your shirt after ripping it off your body last night and get elevated to Annie Sullivan levels of sainthood but catching you in a lie completely strips me back to asshole territory? That makes sense.”
“God!” Danny snarled a little, “I can’t believe I fucking had sex with you!”
“Yet it’s the reality of the situation. Now can you stop being angry with me for maybe… thirty seconds and explain to me why you’re pissed?”
“I’m not pissed!” Danny made a mental note to reel in the volume back down to a reasonable indoor voice, “I’m just… fucking embarrassed.”
“Of what, exactly?”
“You wouldn’t understand…”
“Try me, bitch.”
They stood on the landing in silence as Danny wrapped his arms around himself and held on tight as he backed himself up into a corner quite literally. He willed himself to calm down and breathe before sighing through his nose and looking down at his shoes. Roy remained the pillar of calm in front of him, which only proved to make the shame burn a bit faster. He unfolded his arms and rubbed his temples before he closed his eyes tightly and gestured vaguely in Roy’s direction.
“Fucking… look at you, man,” he opened his eyes but kept his focus on the other’s shoes. “You’ve got it all figured out. The look, the act, you make your own shit, your make-up’s exactly what it needs to be… while I’ve got a couple of shake-and-go wigs, dresses I bought at the mall, and just figured out how to glue my eyelashes on two months ago. Queens at home don’t take me seriously for shit… and… I dunno. I just didn’t feel like getting read by the guy I just hooked up with.”
“Okay… back up,” Danny lifted his eyes when he saw Roy beckon with his fingers, “Look at me. Let’s start this over again and I think maybe we can get on the same page here… when… exactly… did you start doing drag?”
Danny twisted his mouth as he tried to calculate it in his head, “I dunno… kinda blurs together… I guess I started doing the full drag thing in clubs and shit maybe… four or five months ago?”
“Okay… five months? Meet fifteen fucking years. Of course you don’t have shit figured out.”
“Not making me feel any better…”
“Then let me try again,” Roy took Danny by the forearms and tried to catch his eyes that kept flicking down to the floor. “Look at me, seriously. You’ve got a lot of talent and a lot of guts and that’s a better start than most. Wigs and clothes and make-up? That all gets better in time – but don’t let your confidence get shot down just because you’re not there yet, because you will get there. Got it?”
It was a very soft and comforting sentiment coming from the bitch he’d watched read a set of queens to filth on stage not even twelve hours ago. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how to reply as he, again, felt that age gap in just the way Roy saw the world. He wanted a casual fuck with an older guy, he reminded himself, that warmed feeling at the bottom of his heart didn’t settle well for the circumstances. So he did what he always did when he wasn’t ready to think about something – he made it into a joke.
“Ever consider writing inspirational greeting cards? Because that was pretty good…”
“You know what? Fuck you,” Roy broke into a cackle before he reached up and pushed Danny’s hair from his face. “Are we good, then?”
“Yeah, we’re good… but why did it matter?”
“What matter?”
“Me leaving mad at you?”
Roy pressed the tip of his tongue on the inside of his bottom lip before he released it with a light ‘click’ and pushed himself away. The genuine sincerity was wiped clean in an instant and that impish spark that seared through anything in its path on stage returned with a vengeance. “Because I learned awhile back to never let a bitch leave angry unless you want to battle malicious rumors about your dick size. I have a reputation to uphold,” he turned on his heel and waved Danny to follow him, “Come on, I’ll get you a cab.”
“You know, your dick isn’t that impressive,” Danny began as they both trotted down the rest of the stairs.
“Don’t fucking start with more lies, cunt.”
chrissyteigen: Happy valentine's day from me and @thelovemagazine!
"SHEPHERD: THE STORY OF A JEWISH DOG" Opens in Theaters
"SHEPHERD: THE STORY OF A JEWISH DOG" Opens in Theaters
A very touching and compelling film, Shepherd: The Story of A Jewish Dog will open for the first time in theaters. Based on the novel “The Jewish Dog” by Asher Kravitz and true events that happened in WWII, the film version follows a Jewish family and their plight against Nazism. Nicely directed, acted and depicted, […]
https://acedmagazine.com/shepherd-the-story-of-a-jewish-dog-now-in-theaters/
THE PALE DOOR - Witches and Goblettes
THE PALE DOOR - Witches and Goblettes
Mixing the western genre with some horror and thrills seems like a good thing. In the film The Pale Door however, the genre mix is good, but the story loses its punch early on when you get to figure it all out. A bit predictable and clichéd, when the evil begins it’s more mindless than […]
https://acedmagazine.com/the-pale-door-witches-and-goblettes/
MR. JONES - Enlightening and Historic
MR. JONES - Enlightening and Historic
Very enlightening and interesting, the movie Mr. Jones brings you back to sometime before the Germans invaded Russia taking them into WWII. The film gets deeply into Russian problems of feeding their country since the Communist run Parliament took over. It also involves Stalin’s draining the Ukraine of all their grain in order to feed […]
https://acedmagazine.com/mr-jones-enlightening-and-historic/