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rainbowfic2013-06-04 10:12 pm
clare_dragonfly) wrote in rainbowfic2013-06-04 10:12 pm
Guys & Girls
Name: Clare
Story: Moonsisters
Colors: Sulphur 12, Manipulation; Moonlight 9, Ember; Fire Opal 7, Lusting after
Supplies and Materials: feathers, "She's always the smartest person in the room, and she knows it."; novelty beads, hurricane; stain, Only exceptionally rational men can afford to be absurd. -Allan Goldfein; tapestry
Word Count: 2,416
Rating: R
Warnings: (skip) Misogynistic language, underage drinking, attempted rape, ensuing violence.
Notes: When I saw thestayintheroom prompt, I honestly thought this story was going to be about Ivy--and it is, but it's more about Charlotte. Also, I don't play video games and it occurred to me after I wrote it that Grand Theft Auto is probably not multiplayer. But it delights me to think of Angel and Laura playing a violent video game together.
“And furthermore,” Ivy said, “if you believe the theory about the butterfly, you understand that there’s really no point in worrying about your actions. The butterfly didn’t know it was causing the hurricane—it never even knew anything about the hurricane it caused, since it was so far away. You can’t control what consequences your actions will have. All you can do is try to survive however you can. If that butterfly hadn’t flapped its wings at that time, it would have fallen to the ground and been trampled or eaten. It didn’t have any choice anyway.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself, sitting on the couch with a drink and listening to her friend pontificate. She was pretty certain Ivy didn’t believe what she was saying; partly because Ivy was always aware of her actions and their consequences and partly because Ivy had been specific in saying “if you believe the theory,” and Ivy was never any less than precise in her wording.
Charlotte inclined her head just a slight angle so she could see Ivy and her followers a little better. There were two guys, one of them shorter than her and one of them taller, standing and appearing to hang on to her every word. Charlotte was pretty sure neither of them had understood what Ivy was talking about for the last five minutes. She suspected Ivy knew that, too, which was why she’d toned down her language and started talking about actions and their consequences.
The taller boy received a cup from one of his friends and handed it to Ivy. Ivy drank it down in one swig, then wrinkled her nose. “What is in this stuff? It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, sending strands of her naturally black hair back over her shoulders. “What do you think?”
“Think?” asked the shorter boy dazedly.
“About the butterfly,” Ivy said impatiently.
The taller boy started on a long discourse that Charlotte was pretty sure was going to end in appearing to agree with Ivy that it doesn’t matter what consequences your actions have. Charlotte took a moment to let her eyes roam over the others at the party. Ivy was the only friend she had there. The Moonsisters had all four been invited, but Angel’s boyfriend didn’t want her to go and Laura was naturally disinterested in anything that was so obviously a ploy to get guys and girls together. Charlotte hadn’t thought any of them would have fun, but when Ivy had insisted on going, she’d agreed as well. They were single, after all.
Now, though, looking at the people populating this party, Charlotte wondered if that was ever going to change for her. She had absolutely no interest in any of those she saw, and it wasn’t just because half of them were drunk and they were all acting like idiots. Even the ones—male and female alike—who she would objectively identify as attractive didn’t stir anything in her. And the alcohol didn’t even taste good. She was going to stay until Ivy was done, and then they would get out of here. Maybe Angel and Laura would still be up and they could watch a movie or something.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” said some guy Charlotte hadn’t been introduced to, throwing himself down on the couch next to her. “What are you drinking there?”
Charlotte looked down at the red plastic cup she was holding. What was she drinking? She didn’t really remember. “Beer,” she said, knowing it was a decent guess. No one here was of legal drinking age, and she didn’t think much that was stronger than beer had been brought to the party.
Unless that was what they were giving Ivy.
“Aww, that’s no fun,” said the guy sitting next to her. He tried to put his hand on her knee, but she moved it away. “How about I get you something stronger? There’s some tequila.”
“Is there?” Charlotte asked, automatically trying to follow the thread of conversation while still trying to listen to Ivy and her escort.
“I don’t understand,” the shorter boy was saying, and Ivy was trying to explain the butterfly theory again. Her words tripped on each other. Charlotte’s stomach clenched.
“Hey, I’ll get you something you’ll really like,” said the guy next to Charlotte.
“Whatever,” she said, and he got up. She lost what slight interest she’d had in him the moment he moved out of her line of sight. Instead, she stood up and turned toward Ivy, setting her cup down on the crowded table next to the couch.
The blood rushed to her head as soon as she stood. That was an interesting sensation. She obviously hadn’t had enough water to drink, and possibly too much beer. Charlotte stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths, and the sensation passed. But her view wasn’t any better than it had been before: the tall guy was standing with his hand on the wall over Ivy’s head, trapping her in a way she was apparently oblivious to, and now he was leaning again, putting his body precariously close to hers.
Charlotte clenched her teeth and forced herself to stay where she was. They were only a few feet away; she could intervene if necessary. And if this was what Ivy wanted, she certainly wasn’t going to stop her. It seemed wrong—Charlotte’s instincts told her that something wrong was definitely going on here—but Ivy didn’t look unhappy. Just because it was far from the choice Charlotte would have made didn’t mean it was necessarily a bad one.
Then the tall guy bent his head, closing his eyes, to kiss Ivy. And Ivy just stared at him, not moving her lips, not closing her eyes. Her brows drew together in confusion and she moved her head back. Her legs jerked backward, but there was nowhere to go, since she’d been standing with her back to the wall.
And that was all Charlotte needed to know that no, this was not what Ivy wanted. She took two steps forward, controlling her hands by balling them into fists at her sides. “That’s enough,” she told the boys. The shorter one turned to her with eyes wide, but the taller one kept his hand on the wall, only turning his face slowly to her. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips were pursed in contempt.
“What are you, her keeper?” he asked with scorn. “You want to make her choices for you?”
“No,” said Charlotte. “I want to defend the choices she’s not aware enough to make.” How much had Ivy had to drink? Three beers and the last shot of whatever-it-was. Suddenly Charlotte wondered if there had been something more than strong alcohol in that last shot—or even in the beers before it. No, she didn’t just wonder. She had to find out.
Focusing for a moment on the feel of her necklace where the silver lay cool against her skin, she peeled away her mental walls. It was harder than usual, and she wondered if she, too, had been given something stronger than she expected. At least she hadn’t finished her drink. But now she could hear thoughts, first Ivy’s, warm and slow—this guy is such an idiot, I can’t believe I thought I’d find someone interesting, where is my—and then, as she focused, the tall guy’s—bitch, get out of my fucking way, I’ll get her another drink just one more and she’ll be all over me, I came to this party to score, what did she expect—
The spark of anger in Charlotte’s stomach flared, and she took a step forward, at the same time bringing her elbow up to strike the tall guy in the nose. It hit with a satisfying crunch and a spurt of blood, and the boy howled in anger, shock, and pain, letting go of the wall to stumble back with both hands over his nose. He glared at Charlotte over his hands, and she could tell that he wasn’t going to go after her again, so she turned to the short guy. He had already fled.
“Whoa, no need to get so worked up,” said a familiar voice. The guy who’d sat on the couch with her. “I know he’s an asshole but it’s no big deal. Here, I brought you something good.”
Charlotte spun around and kicked the guy in the stomach. He went down with a yell. By this time, though, the guy hitting on Ivy had either recovered or changed his mind, because she felt his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. “Bitch,” he shouted, his voice choked with blood.
“Leave her alone,” Ivy said coldly. She didn’t sound drunk anymore. “Let go of her right now.”
The hand in Charlotte’s hair shook. Charlotte decided she’d had enough of that. She reached back, found a finger, and twisted until it popped. The guy screamed and let go of her. He screamed again, the sound fading, and hit the wall. Charlotte turned to see Ivy holding two fingers straight out and glaring at the guy as though daring him to get up.
Charlotte grabbed Ivy’s other hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here before this escalates.”
“Only if he promises to behave.” Ivy’s voice sounded much like it had before, when she was trying to get the boys’ attention, but now it was a purr of promised violence rather than of seduction.
The guy, scrubbing at his face with one finger sticking out at an odd angle, nodded hastily. “And doesn’t do anything like that to any other girl ever again,” Ivy added, and he nodded some more, whimpering. “If you’re really good…” Ivy said, then shook her head. “Never mind.” He doesn’t deserve healing, her mind whispered in Charlotte’s. Charlotte grimaced and hurled her mental walls back up, though she had to agree.
When they turned around, there were a bunch of guys staring at them, but no one made a move toward them. All the girls looked away. The guy Charlotte had kicked in the stomach was up again, glaring at them and looking none the worse for wear. “If my momma hadn’t taught me it was wrong to hit a girl…” he said.
“Fuck you too,” said Charlotte, flipping him off. She and Ivy made it out of the party and back into the warm night air without further incident.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlotte collapsed to the sidewalk, giggling helplessly. “Don’t want to hit girls,” she said, practically screeching. “Honestly. It’s okay to get girls drunk, pull their hair, try to fucking rape them…”
“Here, let me,” said Ivy, and touched Charlotte’s forehead. She instantly felt clearer-headed and sat up, then climbed to her feet. She was steady on them and it no longer seemed funny at all that the guys were assholes and hypocrites.
“You can heal drunkenness?” she said.
“Apparently,” said Ivy, unruffled as usual. They began walking again, aiming for their own neighborhood. “Not to mention… I don’t even want to know what was in that drink. Let me amend that. I’d like to know precisely what he used so I can study the chemical composition, but I would rather not have experienced it, and I’m not curious enough to actually ask him what it was.”
“Even if you could find him,” Charlotte said. “He wasn’t familiar. I don’t think he goes to our school.”
“I believe he is the older brother of one of the attendees,” said Ivy. “But it doesn’t matter who is who, does it? I have no interest in seeing any of those boys again.”
Charlotte nodded. “I have to agree with you there. If even one of them had tried to help… I mean, I don’t blame the other girls for being scared.” She sighed and pointed down the street. “Want to go see if Angel is home?”
“I hope she is,” said Ivy. They took their usual route between two neighbors’ yards, hopped the fence, and knocked on the back door of Angel’s house. It led to her basement, where she was likely to be found if she was awake, and knocking on the front door would have a much greater chance of waking her mother and baby brother, who, much as they liked Charlotte, would be unlikely to let them in.
Angel opened the door a moment later and grinned. “Party boring after all?”
“Awful,” said Charlotte, at the same time as Ivy said, “Dreadful.”
Angel grinned wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. We’re playing Grand Theft Auto.”
“Boring,” said Charlotte, but she and Ivy went inside. Laura waved at them from her seat in front of the television, looking gaunt and elfin from the shadows the screen threw on her face. Angel shut and latched the door before reclaiming her spot and unpausing the game. She looked skeletal in the shadows.
Charlotte sighed and got up from the couch to go to the refrigerator kept down here for a soda. She might not be drunk anymore, but she still wanted to get the taste out of her mouth. “Ivy, you want anything?”
“A Coke would be good, thanks.”
Charlotte got herself a Mountain Dew and Ivy a Coke and sat down again. “No boyfriend tonight, Angel?”
Angel wrinkled up her nose, still staring in total concentration at the cars careening around on the screen. “We were going to go out, but he got pissed that I was hanging out with Laura beforehand. Apparently he’s afraid she’s going to steal me away or something.”
Laura giggled. “We lesbians, we’re seductive. You’d better watch out.”
“Men suck anyway,” said Charlotte, swigging her soda.
Laura turned her head to grin impishly at her. “Come on over to the dark side, Charlotte. We have cookies.”
“And you’re really bad at video games,” Angel said, laughing.
“Crap!” Laura turned back to the screen just in time to avoid… well, Charlotte didn’t really know what she was doing, but she made a noise of satisfaction, so she must have avoided losing.
“So next time you’re invited to a party, you’re going to stay home with us, right?” said Angel.
“Definitely,” said Charlotte. She sighed and settled back further into the couch. There were probably good guys out there, but she wasn’t sure that she cared. All she really wanted was her friends.
Story: Moonsisters
Colors: Sulphur 12, Manipulation; Moonlight 9, Ember; Fire Opal 7, Lusting after
Supplies and Materials: feathers, "She's always the smartest person in the room, and she knows it."; novelty beads, hurricane; stain, Only exceptionally rational men can afford to be absurd. -Allan Goldfein; tapestry
Word Count: 2,416
Rating: R
Warnings: (skip) Misogynistic language, underage drinking, attempted rape, ensuing violence.
Notes: When I saw the
stayintheroom prompt, I honestly thought this story was going to be about Ivy--and it is, but it's more about Charlotte. Also, I don't play video games and it occurred to me after I wrote it that Grand Theft Auto is probably not multiplayer. But it delights me to think of Angel and Laura playing a violent video game together.“And furthermore,” Ivy said, “if you believe the theory about the butterfly, you understand that there’s really no point in worrying about your actions. The butterfly didn’t know it was causing the hurricane—it never even knew anything about the hurricane it caused, since it was so far away. You can’t control what consequences your actions will have. All you can do is try to survive however you can. If that butterfly hadn’t flapped its wings at that time, it would have fallen to the ground and been trampled or eaten. It didn’t have any choice anyway.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself, sitting on the couch with a drink and listening to her friend pontificate. She was pretty certain Ivy didn’t believe what she was saying; partly because Ivy was always aware of her actions and their consequences and partly because Ivy had been specific in saying “if you believe the theory,” and Ivy was never any less than precise in her wording.
Charlotte inclined her head just a slight angle so she could see Ivy and her followers a little better. There were two guys, one of them shorter than her and one of them taller, standing and appearing to hang on to her every word. Charlotte was pretty sure neither of them had understood what Ivy was talking about for the last five minutes. She suspected Ivy knew that, too, which was why she’d toned down her language and started talking about actions and their consequences.
The taller boy received a cup from one of his friends and handed it to Ivy. Ivy drank it down in one swig, then wrinkled her nose. “What is in this stuff? It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, sending strands of her naturally black hair back over her shoulders. “What do you think?”
“Think?” asked the shorter boy dazedly.
“About the butterfly,” Ivy said impatiently.
The taller boy started on a long discourse that Charlotte was pretty sure was going to end in appearing to agree with Ivy that it doesn’t matter what consequences your actions have. Charlotte took a moment to let her eyes roam over the others at the party. Ivy was the only friend she had there. The Moonsisters had all four been invited, but Angel’s boyfriend didn’t want her to go and Laura was naturally disinterested in anything that was so obviously a ploy to get guys and girls together. Charlotte hadn’t thought any of them would have fun, but when Ivy had insisted on going, she’d agreed as well. They were single, after all.
Now, though, looking at the people populating this party, Charlotte wondered if that was ever going to change for her. She had absolutely no interest in any of those she saw, and it wasn’t just because half of them were drunk and they were all acting like idiots. Even the ones—male and female alike—who she would objectively identify as attractive didn’t stir anything in her. And the alcohol didn’t even taste good. She was going to stay until Ivy was done, and then they would get out of here. Maybe Angel and Laura would still be up and they could watch a movie or something.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” said some guy Charlotte hadn’t been introduced to, throwing himself down on the couch next to her. “What are you drinking there?”
Charlotte looked down at the red plastic cup she was holding. What was she drinking? She didn’t really remember. “Beer,” she said, knowing it was a decent guess. No one here was of legal drinking age, and she didn’t think much that was stronger than beer had been brought to the party.
Unless that was what they were giving Ivy.
“Aww, that’s no fun,” said the guy sitting next to her. He tried to put his hand on her knee, but she moved it away. “How about I get you something stronger? There’s some tequila.”
“Is there?” Charlotte asked, automatically trying to follow the thread of conversation while still trying to listen to Ivy and her escort.
“I don’t understand,” the shorter boy was saying, and Ivy was trying to explain the butterfly theory again. Her words tripped on each other. Charlotte’s stomach clenched.
“Hey, I’ll get you something you’ll really like,” said the guy next to Charlotte.
“Whatever,” she said, and he got up. She lost what slight interest she’d had in him the moment he moved out of her line of sight. Instead, she stood up and turned toward Ivy, setting her cup down on the crowded table next to the couch.
The blood rushed to her head as soon as she stood. That was an interesting sensation. She obviously hadn’t had enough water to drink, and possibly too much beer. Charlotte stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths, and the sensation passed. But her view wasn’t any better than it had been before: the tall guy was standing with his hand on the wall over Ivy’s head, trapping her in a way she was apparently oblivious to, and now he was leaning again, putting his body precariously close to hers.
Charlotte clenched her teeth and forced herself to stay where she was. They were only a few feet away; she could intervene if necessary. And if this was what Ivy wanted, she certainly wasn’t going to stop her. It seemed wrong—Charlotte’s instincts told her that something wrong was definitely going on here—but Ivy didn’t look unhappy. Just because it was far from the choice Charlotte would have made didn’t mean it was necessarily a bad one.
Then the tall guy bent his head, closing his eyes, to kiss Ivy. And Ivy just stared at him, not moving her lips, not closing her eyes. Her brows drew together in confusion and she moved her head back. Her legs jerked backward, but there was nowhere to go, since she’d been standing with her back to the wall.
And that was all Charlotte needed to know that no, this was not what Ivy wanted. She took two steps forward, controlling her hands by balling them into fists at her sides. “That’s enough,” she told the boys. The shorter one turned to her with eyes wide, but the taller one kept his hand on the wall, only turning his face slowly to her. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips were pursed in contempt.
“What are you, her keeper?” he asked with scorn. “You want to make her choices for you?”
“No,” said Charlotte. “I want to defend the choices she’s not aware enough to make.” How much had Ivy had to drink? Three beers and the last shot of whatever-it-was. Suddenly Charlotte wondered if there had been something more than strong alcohol in that last shot—or even in the beers before it. No, she didn’t just wonder. She had to find out.
Focusing for a moment on the feel of her necklace where the silver lay cool against her skin, she peeled away her mental walls. It was harder than usual, and she wondered if she, too, had been given something stronger than she expected. At least she hadn’t finished her drink. But now she could hear thoughts, first Ivy’s, warm and slow—this guy is such an idiot, I can’t believe I thought I’d find someone interesting, where is my—and then, as she focused, the tall guy’s—bitch, get out of my fucking way, I’ll get her another drink just one more and she’ll be all over me, I came to this party to score, what did she expect—
The spark of anger in Charlotte’s stomach flared, and she took a step forward, at the same time bringing her elbow up to strike the tall guy in the nose. It hit with a satisfying crunch and a spurt of blood, and the boy howled in anger, shock, and pain, letting go of the wall to stumble back with both hands over his nose. He glared at Charlotte over his hands, and she could tell that he wasn’t going to go after her again, so she turned to the short guy. He had already fled.
“Whoa, no need to get so worked up,” said a familiar voice. The guy who’d sat on the couch with her. “I know he’s an asshole but it’s no big deal. Here, I brought you something good.”
Charlotte spun around and kicked the guy in the stomach. He went down with a yell. By this time, though, the guy hitting on Ivy had either recovered or changed his mind, because she felt his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. “Bitch,” he shouted, his voice choked with blood.
“Leave her alone,” Ivy said coldly. She didn’t sound drunk anymore. “Let go of her right now.”
The hand in Charlotte’s hair shook. Charlotte decided she’d had enough of that. She reached back, found a finger, and twisted until it popped. The guy screamed and let go of her. He screamed again, the sound fading, and hit the wall. Charlotte turned to see Ivy holding two fingers straight out and glaring at the guy as though daring him to get up.
Charlotte grabbed Ivy’s other hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here before this escalates.”
“Only if he promises to behave.” Ivy’s voice sounded much like it had before, when she was trying to get the boys’ attention, but now it was a purr of promised violence rather than of seduction.
The guy, scrubbing at his face with one finger sticking out at an odd angle, nodded hastily. “And doesn’t do anything like that to any other girl ever again,” Ivy added, and he nodded some more, whimpering. “If you’re really good…” Ivy said, then shook her head. “Never mind.” He doesn’t deserve healing, her mind whispered in Charlotte’s. Charlotte grimaced and hurled her mental walls back up, though she had to agree.
When they turned around, there were a bunch of guys staring at them, but no one made a move toward them. All the girls looked away. The guy Charlotte had kicked in the stomach was up again, glaring at them and looking none the worse for wear. “If my momma hadn’t taught me it was wrong to hit a girl…” he said.
“Fuck you too,” said Charlotte, flipping him off. She and Ivy made it out of the party and back into the warm night air without further incident.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlotte collapsed to the sidewalk, giggling helplessly. “Don’t want to hit girls,” she said, practically screeching. “Honestly. It’s okay to get girls drunk, pull their hair, try to fucking rape them…”
“Here, let me,” said Ivy, and touched Charlotte’s forehead. She instantly felt clearer-headed and sat up, then climbed to her feet. She was steady on them and it no longer seemed funny at all that the guys were assholes and hypocrites.
“You can heal drunkenness?” she said.
“Apparently,” said Ivy, unruffled as usual. They began walking again, aiming for their own neighborhood. “Not to mention… I don’t even want to know what was in that drink. Let me amend that. I’d like to know precisely what he used so I can study the chemical composition, but I would rather not have experienced it, and I’m not curious enough to actually ask him what it was.”
“Even if you could find him,” Charlotte said. “He wasn’t familiar. I don’t think he goes to our school.”
“I believe he is the older brother of one of the attendees,” said Ivy. “But it doesn’t matter who is who, does it? I have no interest in seeing any of those boys again.”
Charlotte nodded. “I have to agree with you there. If even one of them had tried to help… I mean, I don’t blame the other girls for being scared.” She sighed and pointed down the street. “Want to go see if Angel is home?”
“I hope she is,” said Ivy. They took their usual route between two neighbors’ yards, hopped the fence, and knocked on the back door of Angel’s house. It led to her basement, where she was likely to be found if she was awake, and knocking on the front door would have a much greater chance of waking her mother and baby brother, who, much as they liked Charlotte, would be unlikely to let them in.
Angel opened the door a moment later and grinned. “Party boring after all?”
“Awful,” said Charlotte, at the same time as Ivy said, “Dreadful.”
Angel grinned wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. We’re playing Grand Theft Auto.”
“Boring,” said Charlotte, but she and Ivy went inside. Laura waved at them from her seat in front of the television, looking gaunt and elfin from the shadows the screen threw on her face. Angel shut and latched the door before reclaiming her spot and unpausing the game. She looked skeletal in the shadows.
Charlotte sighed and got up from the couch to go to the refrigerator kept down here for a soda. She might not be drunk anymore, but she still wanted to get the taste out of her mouth. “Ivy, you want anything?”
“A Coke would be good, thanks.”
Charlotte got herself a Mountain Dew and Ivy a Coke and sat down again. “No boyfriend tonight, Angel?”
Angel wrinkled up her nose, still staring in total concentration at the cars careening around on the screen. “We were going to go out, but he got pissed that I was hanging out with Laura beforehand. Apparently he’s afraid she’s going to steal me away or something.”
Laura giggled. “We lesbians, we’re seductive. You’d better watch out.”
“Men suck anyway,” said Charlotte, swigging her soda.
Laura turned her head to grin impishly at her. “Come on over to the dark side, Charlotte. We have cookies.”
“And you’re really bad at video games,” Angel said, laughing.
“Crap!” Laura turned back to the screen just in time to avoid… well, Charlotte didn’t really know what she was doing, but she made a noise of satisfaction, so she must have avoided losing.
“So next time you’re invited to a party, you’re going to stay home with us, right?” said Angel.
“Definitely,” said Charlotte. She sighed and settled back further into the couch. There were probably good guys out there, but she wasn’t sure that she cared. All she really wanted was her friends.
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Yeah, maybe not always the most common sense, but they are smart. Thank you!
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