A/N: Yep, I'm alive. Surprise surprise. Not much to say about this one, except that a) inspired by a comment on 's forums and b) updated sporadically, if at all.
Renesmee Cullen's favorite color is not rainbow. She wears a pin with a rainbow flag on it every day anyway, because she's proud, even if it contrasts oddly with her tattered black clothes and the died black hair that swirls unevenly around her shoulders. One disadvantage of being half vampire is that hair takes forever to grow back after you reach adulthood and stop changing so quickly; the short bits still haven't gotten long enough for her to cut it evenly and not miss the longer strands, even though it's been two years since she admitted she likes girls and Grandma Esme threw the hot frying pan at her head (out of shock, they agreed later).
At least Esme apologized. Her parents still aren't speaking to her, along with most of the family, and so she doesn't go by Renesmee Cullen anymore. Not out loud, anyway, and she's trying to stop thinking of herself that way. She'd rather be Nessie, the name Jake gave her when she was still little.
Jake. Dear, sweet Jake. He still hangs around a lot, though Nessie finally managed to afford to move out of his place last month. She lives in an apartment that takes up one room, plus bathroom, in the basement of a building that's only one step up from a homeless shelter, but it's okay. Nessie has her pride, and she won't be dependant if it kills her. Not anymore, anyway.
She walks down the hallway to the door of that apartment, then shoves her keys in the lock and turns them. Practice makes the phrases scribbled in sharpie on the outside of the wooden door- Stop Gays! and Fuck off lesbo! and a smorgasbord of others-easy to ignore. She might not have replaced the first pride flag they ripped up if the culprits hadn't had to add graffiti, but they did and now it's just another battle she's too stubborn to surrender in.
She walks inside, strips off her stained shoes and sticky socks, and tries to work up the energy to shower. Her job at McDonald's pays the bills, if barely, but it also creates an incredible amount of grease and unidentified muck. Most of the time she's too tired to care, and at least it's work.
The answering machine beeps, and she walks over to it to check who wanted to talk to her. There are three missed calls-one of them is a number she knows is Aunt Rose's, another's Jake, and the last one she doesn't recognize. Nessie hits the button for the last call, and a familiar voice speaks up. It's Momma again. She's begging Nessie to come home, to date boys like a nice little girl- and here Nessie hits the button again to shut the friggin' machine up, rolling her eyes in disgust. She's too proud to speak to her mother until the bitch has apologized, if then.
Renesmee-no, dammit, it's Nessie- removes the rest of her clothes, pushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair out of her face, and enters the bathroom. A glance in the mirror tells her it's time to dye her hair again, seeing as her chocolate brown roots are showing, but now it's time for that shower.