Daydreams, Girls, Writing, blah blah blah

This is a writing blog where I write stuff. Geraldine and her girls is story I spin around in my head sometimes but struggle to write. I'd say my biggest obstacle as someone who aspires to write something, (ANYTHING!) is that I am terrible at getting down to the specifics. Do I know vaguely what kind of story I wanna write? Sure. Do I know what my characters do in a day or anything specific about how anything works in the world? No. Anyhow, I'll be writing stuff and posting it here because I need these stories out of my head. Here is my (scant) Master list. If you wanna help me get better at writing, be my guest. Leave Asks <3. Please be nice, I'm scared of people. <<>><><<<>>><<>><><<<>>><<>><><<<>>><<>><><<<>>><<>><><<<>>

Geraldine and Her Girls - Set in a world where people group of into polycules instead of pairs. The details aren't fleshed out. Geraldine and her girls is one such romantic polycule. I'll be writing snippets of their lives that I may or may not fit into the eventual canon story.

Geraldine didn't like it when one of her girls was in trouble. What she didn't know until now, however, was how she felt about one of her girls being the trouble.

"Sammy?" Geraldine had been looking for her. She'd caught a glimpse of her bright orange fishnet undershirt sleeves through the ajar door of the nightclub basement.

There was a figure pooled awkwardly at Sammy's feet, limbs splayed everywhere. Sammy was standing ghostly still above them, her back ramrod straight. Geraldine's boots clacked in the silent room as she creeped up behind her girlfriend. "Sammy, what's wrong, what happened..." Geraldine trailed of as Sammy shook her head, slowly at first, then more rapidly.

She turned around and Dine saw the distraught look on her face, blank but for the the anguish glistening in the eyes. "I killed her." She stated flatly. There was a beat of silence. "I... it was a mistake. I would never..." Sammy shook her head and covered her eyes. "Oh my God." She gasped for air. "Oh my God," she said again, her voice gruffer as she grew more distraught, hands sinking into her hair.

Dine felt her blood turn frigid at once. The whole world came to a stop as her heart stuttered and the ground fell out from beneath her. The air in the dark, musty room suddenly felt alive and ill in intent, her lover in front of her blended into the dimness, becoming more silhouette than person.

And then the room exhaled, Sammy's spotless and neat outfit stood out starkly, the dusty floor winked from it's relatively clean, deviod-of-bodily-fluids state, and the body on the ground stirred, grumbling as one does when woken from a particularly deep slumber.

Geraldine fell to the ground and clutched her chest, breathing in lungfuls of precious, relieved air that didn't carry the ominousness of a murder. She gave Sammy the scariest look she'd ever given to any of her girlfriends. "What the hell, Sammy?!" But Sammy wasn't collapsed in relief like she was. She only turned briefly to glance at the groggy figure who was swaying dizzily and struggling to sit up.

Sammy turned back to Dine and shook her head. The movement was simple, but it felt final. "Oh Dine..." Sammy began to sob. Whatever composure the shock preserved in Sammy crumbled, her whole frame wilting as her shoulders shook. Geraldine pulled herself up from the ground and gathered her wits about her, heart twisting. She moved towards Sammy, then towards the figure on the ground, unsure who to attend to first. Sammy moved before she made a decision. She fell to her knees before the person and grasped their chin tightly, lifting it and looking into their face. "What's your name?"

"Huhhh?" They slurred. Their eyes were glassy and unfocused. "What your name?" Sammy repeated urgently, wildly. "Hnggh..." The person hunched over onto Sammy and clutched their head with both their hands. They looked like the world's worst case of hangover, but Sammy was unsympathetic.

She pushed the stranger off herself rather harshly and moved away, resting her back against a nearby wall and burying her head in her knees. Geraldine's chest stirred in dismay at Sammy's unceremonious-ness.

"Sammy?" Dine said in her soft, caring voice, the one she only took on at home, or when an pitiful thing was in front her. "Why are you-"

"No. Don't say anything Dine. Just no one talk right now." She didn't lift her head, talking into her knees.

Dine, torn, sighed and went to help the struggling figure upright. She took them in properly. They smelled lightly of alcohol, their face was as unguarded as a thoroughly disoriented person's face would be, no furrow in the thick brows or weariness as they allowed Dine to help them. There didn't seem to be even a hint of a question about their waking up in a dim basement. Their hair fell in short puffy locs around their head, sticking up where their head had made contact with the floor, and their clothes were wrinkled and crumpled.

Their largish eyes and softly angling jaw made them a piteous sight. Geraldine had a thing for pitiful looking things she guiltily brushed aside. This harmless looking stranger had done something to her girlfriend, peeled off some deeply buried part of Sammy that disconcerted Dine right now. Questions were whirling through her head, an uncomfortable, preemptive feeling alluding to an impending shift in perception of someone she loved. Geraldine felt thoroughly sorry for them, thoroughly soft for her girlfriend, and thoroughly scared of Sammy's strange behaviour.

"Come on, " She pulled them up, voice shaking only a little bit as she buried the whirlwind of emotions and slung one of her arms around their waist, draping their arm over her shoulder. Their footing was unsteady but they seemed able to walk, so Geraldine reckoned they could make it to a couch in one of the private rooms of the club.

A first Kiss - Conext: Wrote this peace a while ago, and a lot about how I think about the world and the character have changed. Super vague brain vomit scenario I had to get out of my head.

Geraldine and Dash have been hanging out for a while. The tension's been growing between them, but Dash's waiting for a kiss Geraldine's not going to give first.

Earlier on the doorbell had rung and I let Geraldine in. She was now making dinner in my kitchen while I sat on the barstools opposite her, watching her work. I liked watching people. I liked watching people talk to themselves, or read books, or listen to music, or stare off into space, not aware of anybody else in the world. I called it “witnessing their humanity”. It was a beautiful thing to see. 

I was witnessing Geraldine’s humanity. Watching carefully how her hands grasped the knife and glided over the vegetables. How she leaned over the cutting board, one lip corner turned up, the other turned down. Braids braided into a single neat french braid behind her back that made her look like a princess in one of those historical shows. I couldn’t see her eyes. And while I was watching her, I noticed that I didn’t care if she caught me looking. I wanted her to catch me. I wanted us to lock eyes, and I wanted her to read the look in my eye. Because maybe then it would make sense. Maybe Geraldine would recognize something. Something she was more familiar with than I was, and tell me what it was I was trying to get from her, or tell her or show her. 

She looked up as I was thinking that, and we locked eyes. “What?” She didn’t smile, but I could hear playfulness in her tone. I really wanted her to come around the counter. I really wanted her to come close to me. And I also wanted her to stay right where she was. I wanted to get up and go around to her and just. Just do something. The problem was I didn’t know what. I didn’t know what I would do if I got up. What would I say? How would I say it? How would it sound? These thoughts weighed heavily on me. The kind of thoughts that often made me unable to move or act. But as if often did, my existential fear of awkwardness spurred me on. I did the only thing I could think of to prevent the moment dragging on forever and got up. And started walking around the counter. Towards Geraldine. She stopped her cutting and followed my movement with her body. She faced me, one hand poised against the counter top, the other hanging casually at her side. Her look was expectant.

The only thing I could think to do was put my hands around her neck. I wanted to kiss her, did I not? But I was sort of paralyzed. The me who would do such a bold, confident thing was so foreign to me that I could barely move a muscle. Couldn’t she read my mind? Didn’t I have the look of someone waiting to be kissed? These days, Geraldine, she'd look at me like…

There was something in the look she gave me sometimes that set my cheeks blazing. It elicited a blush so thorough it felt serious, like it was coming from my bones or being expressed by my very soul, and not by my body. It skipped my cheeks and went straight to my ears and my skull, to the center of my chests, to my finger tips and the tip of my nose, across the skin of my arms. But no matter how she fixed that look on me, no matter how sure I was she wanted to kiss me as much I wanted to kiss her, she never did. Just stared. And sometimes brushed against me. Acting like it was all accidental. But I knew it wasn’t. 

At that moment in the kitchen, I finally made up my mind about her. No one would know it, but Geraldine was a tease. She was not the first kisser, not even first confessor. She was not going to kiss me right now. She was going to make me take what I wanted. That terrified me. To put me in control like this, to make me so prone to messing up, doing something I’ve never done before, something tender and intimate, it was unfair. But my options were to stand there and let the moment slip away, or just kiss her. 

I put my hands on her neck and pulled her lips down to meet mine. And I should’ve known, I should’ve known but still didn’t expect it. Geraldine’s mouth hadn’t even met mine before her hands were on my hips, and sliding up, to my waist, and she was leaning down, forcing me back flat on my feet, and she was kissing me, her lips gently slotting between mine. My hands nearly slipped off her neck in surprise, but I tightened my grip, bracing against her shoulder while my other hand balanced myself against the counter.