#I DON’T KNOW IF OTHER MOVIE THEATERS DO THE SAME BUT DON’T MISS OUT EITHER WAY

[somesmartsmarties]

I HAVE ARISEN FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL TO SAY THAT YESTERDAY I WENT TO THE MOVIES AND I SAW THE NEW DND MOVIE AND IT WAS SO GOOD Y’ALL

My expectations weren’t super high unfortunately, seeing the track record of movies based off of games and existing franchises but DAMN WAS THIS MOVIE FUN

[gothcsz]

part seven of the neighbors series. oh jeez, we are back at it again with another heart wrenching part to this building series. don't ask me where in the timeline this lands because i don't even know—all i do know is that this one hurt me a little more than the others 🖤 as always, thank you to the beautiful anon who sent in this prompt. i love love love creating this with you all 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. again, nothing too extreme to tag!

“Guess who won dos entradas al cine?” (two tickets to the movie theatre) you sing-song as you approach Javier, a pair of ticket vouchers held triumphantly in your hand and a wide grin lighting up your face. 

Javier looks up from where he’s seated on the edge of the courtyard fountain, the familiar ember of a cigarette glowing between his lips. He narrows his eyes behind his tinted aviators, giving you that signature blend of teasing skepticism. “Who’d you have to flash to get those?” 

You roll your eyes and drop onto the fountain beside him, the cool stone beneath you a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day. “I am offended that you think I’d flash someone for movie tickets.” You cross your legs as you say it, the move shifting the hem of your work dress just high enough to reveal the soft curve of your thighs beneath sheer stockings.

Javier’s gaze dips immediately, a slow drag of his eyes over your legs before his tongue sweeps across his lower lip.

He knows he should stop. Should keep his admiration of you in check. But he can’t. You’re too pretty to not gawk over.

You’re oblivious, like you always are, as you hold the tickets up again, completely lost in your own excitement. “We had this silly competition in the office, and these bad boys were up for grabs.” Your voice is bright and animated, and it’s all he can do not to focus entirely on how alive you look when you’re happy.  

A plume of smoke curls into the air as he exhales, buying himself time. “So, what movie are you gonna go see?” 

You falter for a moment, your confidence dimming ever so slightly as you hesitate. Your teeth catch your lower lip in a nervous habit he’s seen a dozen times and never fails to find endearing, and you glance at him from under your lashes.

That look alone could kill him.

“I’m not sure… actually,” you admit, your voice softening as you toy with the edge of the tickets. The question sits on the tip of your tongue, uncertain.

Is it a good idea to ask him? It’s been weeks since the two of you had a moment to really do anything outside of these stolen midday chats or rushed exchanges in the hallways.

You miss the ease that used to exist between you, but what if he doesn’t feel the same? 

After Javier’s little episode in your apartment during your date, things seem to have settled into a steady, almost predictable rhythm. You’d thought about asking Mateo to join you for this outing, but he’s away on some business trip for the next two weeks.

Things between you two are fine—casual, a few small dates here and there, nothing to write home about. It’s enough to keep your head above water, to keep romantic daydreams about the handsome DEA agent next door from completely taking over. 

You haven’t heard much from Javier’s side of the wall lately either. No muffled moans or the rhythmic creak of his bed frame emphasizing his nocturnal activities.

Out of sight, out of mind, you tell yourself. If you don’t hear him entertaining half of Bogotá, your feelings for him can stay dormant, tucked neatly into the recesses of your heart.

So, you figure it’s harmless to ask him to go to the theater with you this weekend. Friends catch movies together all the time, right? Besides, his life is unpredictable—he could get called into some crisis at a moment’s notice. No pressure.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me,” you ask, your voice soft but hopeful. “We can pick the movie when we get there.”

The way you ask, with that shy, almost hesitant charm, makes Javier’s heart do a ridiculous flip. He has to school his expression, keep his face neutral so he doesn’t show just how much your offer delights him. His instinct to tease nearly ruins the moment, though—he’s this close to asking about your little banker boyfriend. 

But instead, he soaks in the fact that it’s him you’re asking, not Mateo.

Whatever the reason, the thought of spending an evening with you—even if it’s just watching a movie—makes him feel like a giddy teenager, like the crush he’s been nursing forever has finally acknowledged him.  

“Makin’ time for me in that busy schedule of yours? I’m flattered, cariño. That sounds like a good time. I’m in,” he replies, taking a slow drag of his cigarette to mask the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You light up instantly, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Tú eres el que siempre está ocupado,” (You're the one who is always busy) you tease, testing the waters with your Spanish.

He huffs a quiet laugh, his dark eyes glinting with approval. “Tienes razón,” (You're right) he concedes, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “You’re gettin’ better and better. Pretty soon, you’re gonna be speakin’ better than me.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, and you can’t help the nervous giggle that slips out. “Highly doubt that, but thank you. How does Friday night sound? Meet me in the hallway at six?”

Javier tilts his head, feigning confusion as his brows knit together. “Lo siento, no hablo inglés, ¿puedes repetirlo?” (I'm sorry, I don't speak English. Could you repeat that?)

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as you pause to get your words right. “Encuéntrame en el pasillo a las seis el viernes,” (Meet me in the hallway at six on Friday) you say carefully, hoping you nailed the grammar.

His lips curve into a proud smile, his mustache twitching as he nods in approval. “Te veré allí. Good job, cariño.” (I'll see you there)

It’s almost eight when you knock on Javier’s door, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you wait.

Maybe he got tied up with work—God knows his job has a way of swallowing him whole.

Or maybe it just slipped his mind, which wouldn’t surprise you either; he does have a lot on his plate these days. 

Still, you’d been looking forward to this little outing, putting a little extra effort into your outfit, remembering all the little things that had happened to you during the week to share with him so he could get a good laugh out of them.

You wait a moment longer, but there’s no answer. A small pout tugs at your lips, disappointment sinking in. You tell yourself you saw this coming. It’s Javier, after all—unpredictable, chaotic Javier. You shouldn’t take it personally. 

But the tiny sting of hurt manages to land on that sore spot in your chest with his name tattooed over it. 

It’s okay, you think, pushing the feeling down. You’ll just reschedule. No big deal. It’s not like you don’t have other things to do—there’s that crossword book you picked up earlier to practice writing your Spanish. A quiet evening in doesn’t sound so bad. You’ll catch him later, maybe tease him for standing you up. 

You’ve barely turned the knob on your apartment door when the sound of laughter fills the air—a warm, familiar chuckle that makes your heart leap.

You freeze, turning toward the sound, your excitement flaring to life at the prospect of your plans not being canceled after all.

But the flicker of hope is short-lived. 

The door to the building swings open, and there he is, an arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a stunning woman. She’s tall, effortlessly beautiful with her curly brown hair, her laughter lilting as his lips graze her neck.

Your stomach drops.  

So he hadn’t forgotten because of work. He’d just… forgotten about you. Or chosen not to remember. The realization sears through you, twisting in your chest.

You feel rooted in place, unable to look away as your mind scrambles to catch up. 

Then his eyes find yours.  

The world seems to grind to a halt. Everything else fades—the woman on his arm, the noise of the building, even the ache in your chest.

All that exists is the intensity of his gaze locked with yours. His flirty, careless smile vanishes, replaced by something you can’t quite name. Guilt? Regret?  

It doesn’t matter.  

You wrench yourself away, slipping into your apartment before he can say anything. The door closes with a soft click, and you sag against it, chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath. Your eyes sting, but you refuse to let the tears fall.  

It’s not just that he stood you up. That’s not what makes the embarrassment swell in your throat. It’s that you’d been excited to spend time with him.

That you put in effort to your appearance, that you saved specific topics to discuss solely with him.

You’d allowed yourself to believe that your friendship mattered as much to him as it does to you.

But now, standing here with your heart feeling scraped raw, you’re starting to see it for what it is: your friendship only exists when it’s convenient for him. When there’s no one else in his bed, when he’s not risking his life in the streets.  

You bite down hard on your lip, willing the tears to stay put. You won’t cry for him. Not tonight. Not again.

Like clockwork, three steady knocks land against the door, each one reverberating through your back as you stay pressed against it. You don’t move, your hands curled into fists at your sides.

Should you answer? Or let him stand out there, forgotten as easily as he forgot you?

Your jaw tightens, anger sparking to life in your chest. It tempts you to yank the door open and unleash every ounce of frustration, to scream at him until your voice gives out, until he feels the intensity of all the feelings he stirs inside you.  

But you don’t.  

Instead, you straighten your posture, brushing away the stubborn tears that slipped past your defenses. You take a steadying breath, clearing your throat before finally opening the door.  

“Hola, Javier,” you greet, your tone clipped and flat.  

There he stands, every bit the picture of remorse. His brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, and his hands are shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Cariño, I’m so sorry,” he starts, his voice low and rushed. “I got hung up at the office, then had to go out and vet some leads we got—”  

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “It happens.”  

He flinches at your tone, guilt etched across his face. It’s written in the way his shoulders slump, the way his mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right thing to say. He knows he screwed up. Knows he let you down.  

The truth? He had forgotten. At first, it was the chaos of his job pulling him in a dozen directions, then following up on a tip from Helena.

But when they met at their usual spot, the drinks came easily—too easily. Her attention had been familiar, her touch comforting, and one thing led to another, as it always did with her. He hadn’t thought about anything else until he walked into the building and saw you.  

Until your wide, hurt eyes locked onto his and knocked the breath right out of him.  

“I’m free all day tomorrow,” he says now. “We can reschedule. I’ll even take you out to dinner to make it up to you.”  

There’s something so damn sincere in the way he looks at you, the way his tone drips with regret, that for a split second, you almost cave. Almost.  

But then you remember what’ll happen as soon as he leaves. He’ll go back to his apartment and you’ll have to hear him fuck her.

“No, Javier. Don’t worry about it,” you say firmly, each word clear with resolve. “I’ve got a busy weekend.” It’s a lie, but it feels necessary, a barrier to protect what little dignity you have left.

“Have fun vetting your lead.” You let the words hit their mark.

His expression falters, and you see the exact moment the weight of them sinks in, his lips parting as if to respond, to defend himself, to say something. But you don’t give him the chance.

With a steady hand, you close the door in his face.

The soft click of the latch is louder than it should be, final and resolute. You lean against the wood, staring blankly ahead as the quiet settles around you.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, the fiery ache of anger and something sharper—betrayal—coiling in your chest.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[physalian]

How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story

Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To “subvert expectations” is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone you’ve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.

It might mean your long-lost princess doesn’t actually reclaim the throne she’s been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villain’s plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The “will they/won’t they” is never fulfilled.

Supporters of SE argue the following:

It’s refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale

They like that it’s unpredictable and bold

They’re tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive

It gives audiences something they didn’t even know they wanted

Haters of SE argue this:

It’s only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs

It’s a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact

Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain

Plot holes ensue

When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesn’t die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.

What makes a bad subversion?

Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.

So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.

Then they lose, because it’s *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.

Sure, it’s not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?

Even if mainstream audiences don’t care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. It’s not entertaining anymore, it’s not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic hero’s bitter and unsatisfying demise, I’d read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.

On the topic of “gritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safe” – no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldn’t have a story otherwise, you’d just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.

What makes a good subversion?

Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but it’s their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe it’s perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because that’s the hero, they won’t lose. Until they do.

Then, it’s not the hand of the author, it’s this character’s flaws finally biting them in the ass. It’s still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.

If you write a character who’s entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *don’t* do those things, then the “trophy” had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasn’t the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.

A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character they’re following is even more important. Doesn’t matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.

Good SE that should be more popular:

The “Trial of threes” – your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth

Not killing your gays. Just. Don’t do it. That’ll subvert expectations just fine, won’t it?

Let the villain win

Have your hero’s love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they don’t want the romantic subplot they thought they did

Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they don’t have to compete for

Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero doesn’t actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves

The character who knows too much still can’t warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure

The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts

Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything

More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents

Let the hero live long enough to become the villain

—

Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? What’s the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?

Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldn’t be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when we’re proven right.

Tragedies exist. There’s seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of them… but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.

What’s not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I can’t stop you. Just don’t be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.

[artist-issues]

*shrieks into the void*

“Let me free you from having to agree that Dune is a good movie series!”

There’s no emotional depth. The three things you’re supposed to care about, with the characters, in this movie are a) Paul’s family/household, their name and their wellbeing. b) The Fremen, their cause and their wellbeing. c) Chani, Paul’s relationship with her and her wellbeing. But the movies do not display any genuine moments of these characters being relatable or human or empathetic in a way that we can all empathize with. Paul’s interactions with his father before his death are too formal and take themselves too seriously. There’s little to no humor or relaxed moments between them that the casual viewer could relate to before big, dramatic moments ramp up the tension. When everything is solemn and Shakespeare, nothing is impactful or hits you in a real way. It all quickly becomes emotional white-noise, whether the dad is screaming about a assassination attempt on his son or his death is revealed to that son—who cares? Paul and Chani? They have no build-up to their relationship. There’s no reason they should like each other beyond animal attraction. And no audience member can relate to the experience of having supernatural visions about a girl, then meeting her and gaining her trust through pitched combat and ritual training. So nobody cares when he betrays her, no matter how much dramatic music you play. And Paul’s mother’s motives are either unclear or wholly unrelatable, so you don’t care what she’s after or how it will affect everyone else.

The writing lacks pacing. There are barely any jokes or moments of regular, normal conversation. Every single conversation is weighed down by solemn “fantasy culture” references, every single line is burdened by dramatic mic-drop one-liners. Paul and his mother never talk about what they miss about their old planet together, in a normal fashion. That would be the most natural thing in the world, as they travel through the desert.

The villains are shock-jock puppets. You might as well have a clip show of people getting run over by cars or falling off of bridges playing, instead of every scene with Fayd Rautha or any Harkonen, for all that the villains add to the story. They’re just there to be loud, or erotic, or gory—but don’t worry, the movie will play dramatic, chanting music behind everything they do so that you feel a sense of “epic dread” when they’re actually doing nothing intimidating or clever, or scary. They’re just yelling and smashing people. If they twirled their mustaches and “mua-ha-ha-ha’d” they’d at least be a little campy and fun to watch—but they’d be exactly the same amount of ‘effective or interesting in the story.’

It’s all sugar, no nutrients. The sugar just happens to be pretty music, good sound and visual effects, and nice-looking actors & actresses. The message is “power is derived from the successful manipulation of those with faith.” That’s it. That’s awful. That’s an awful message. What am I supposed to do with that information? What am I supposed to carry out of that theater? I’m supposed to start abandoning submission and faith in any higher power or authority, and use those ideas for selfish ambition and control, if I were to listen to Dune.

And don’t tell me it’s profound to take your main character and make him the villain. Boo hoo hoo. That’s not profound, I don’t care if it is Timothee Chalamet. Nobody cared about who he was before he betrayed his girlfriend and seized manipulative power for himself. When Anakin Skywalker falls to the dark side and kills his wife and turns on all the people who looked to him for help? You care. Know why? Because you saw who he was and how he struggled to live up to that, before the fall ever happened. He was a human character with relatable flaws like pride and human moments, like teasing his girlfriend or making his best buddies nervous, with hobbies, like tinkering. With a competitive personality. With a deep angst over loss. Paul Atreides? Lazy. Lazy in comparison. We’re just told his dad died and told he’s sad about that, but there’s no real human attention given to that. Just big dramatic, angsty declarations and acting-explosions. We’re told he loves Chani, and expected to believe it, but given no evidence except a suggestive post-sex scene with zero romantic tension or buildup, or even bonding. All Paul Atreides is, is a character who has a laundry list of epic hard-to-do chores, and he gets them done, while dramatic music plays, as if there was some doubt he was going to be able to do his chores and you’re supposed to see his completion of the list as a moment of victory. Guess what? I don’t care about his chore list, no matter how “cultural” they are. So I don’t care about his rise or fall, or anything he’s doing, because he’s not a relatable human character. He’s just a caricature. And that would be fine. If there were any relatable human side characters to look at him through the eyes of. But there aren’t. Because this whole story is “shock and awe, look at how important we are, hear that rumbling bass in the soundtrack, see this character brooding into the horizon for the seven-thousandth shot?” What am I supposed to take away from this? All sugar. No nutrients.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

One of Your Kind (CH. 3)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: navigating through life in America. You go through a lot of stuff. Within Ups and downs, you get to direct your first movie on your own, it didn’t go as expected, but you’ll soon get a better job.

Warnings: none

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

———

January 2021

You weren’t one for social medias, you really weren’t. You hated the fact that whatever app you opened, there were people ready to judge you and criticize you or talk shit about you. It sucked, which is why you relied A LOT on emails. you had tried looking for Jenna’s email to send her a message asking for her number, since you promised you’d text her, but you never found it, so she either didn’t do emails or didn’t want to receive emails. It honestly felt bad, not being able to talk and stay in contact with your probably best friend, so when “The Fallout” Premiered only for actors in LA, you hoped to see her there. Megan had made sure you got an invitation because you helped her a lot for that movie. She felt like she owed you and even though you told her thousand of times that she didn’t have to do anything for you, she insisted. If anything, you were the one to owe her but she never asked for anything in return if not for you to study.

You were given an incredibly pretty dress for the premiere, stylists and hair stylists sent by Megan had come at the apartment she gave you, and they got you ready and pretty for the night, you even had a car taking you there. When you arrived Megan was the first one to greet you with a tight hug. “Hey darling! How have you been? How’s your English?” She asked and you smiled “definitely better. It was true, living here and only listening and speaking English definitely made a difference. My pronunciation definitely still needs to be worked on, but I can understand almost everything and form sensed sentences.” You said smiling and Megan was nearly amazed by you. For it only having been 5 months since you wrapped up filming, you had definitely gotten better. “What about you? How are you?” You asked her as you walked together in the theater. “I’m great! I’m really proud of how the movie turned out. It’s really good, you’ll see. Oh wait, this reminds me that I have to do this!”

“Hey everyone! May I have some attention?” People invited to the premiere and even paparazzis turned to the two of you. “This girl right here, her name’s (Y/N)(L/N), she was my student while shooting this movie and I’m telling you she has some talent! She needs a round of applause” you blushed, not used to this kind of attention as paparazzis started taking picture of the two of you before heading inside to watch the movie. “Megan, do you know if Jenna and Maddie are coming?” You asked hopeful. “No unfortunately they’re not. Miss your friends?” She asked and you nodded, giving her a small sad smile. “When everyone left set, me and Jenna promised each other we’d text, but we never exchanged phone numbers. I don’t do social medias and she doesn’t have an email so I don’t know how to reach her. Do you have her number?” Well, too bad for you she didn’t have it. It sucked, you just wanted to talk to your friend…

The movie was amazing. You found yourself to be hit by all of it, when filming you don’t really pay much attention to the details, but seeing this movie come to life was just amazing. People don’t go through traumas the same way, and in this movie Jenna did a great job with Vada, how she doesn’t really go through it but tries to put it aside even if in the ends it all comes afloat. Putting the trauma aside is not what you’re supposed to do because it always, always resurfaces no matter what you try to do. “Oh here it comes!” Megan snapped you out of your thoughts when the scene you directed came up and it was utterly perfect. The way it was filmed, the way the cameras moved. It was all just perfect. The whole movie itself was perfect, and at the end, Jenna’s performance made you tear up a bit.

After that, you stopped hearing from Megan as well. She was busy with the press and the interviews and you watched every single one of them, Jenna was in some too, though what made you think a bit was that when they talked about friendships on set, none of them talked about you or even hinted having become friends with a student. Not even Megan, who was so proud of you until just months back. You thought and thought, are you really that easy to forget? Were you really nothing but an occasional friendship?

-

The longer you stayed in America, the more fluent you became in english. You even got little jobs here and there, taking over directors places in movies when they were sick and for really short periods, while you paid for rent thanks to the job at a clothes shop that paid enough for rent and for some occasional vices, such as a beer on a Saturday night at a pub. You first went there with the intent of making friends… but eventually you found something more… you found yourself a girlfriend. She was the kind of girl that didn’t have many friends, same as you. She was very shy, same as you. But you opened up to each other a night where you were both drunk and ended up sleeping together at her place.

It turns out that, to her you were nothing but sex. She didn’t like you, she didn’t love you. She used you for sex, and then made fun of you with your friends, the friends you had worked a lot to have, now made fun of you, calling you slurs and, like every other person you met until now, didn’t believe in you and your dreams and abandoned you.

You were broken, too say the least. You were back to being alone, if you had to direct a movie about your life you would call it “lost in America” because truly, that’s how you felt. You have always been alone ever since you came to live and work in America, Jenna and Maddie and even Megan just being occasional people you work with, and you had to learn how to not get attached to people on sets because you knew you most likely won’t see them again.

Then eventually, you got to direct a movie, all on your own, with nowhere to guide you. You were scared, really scared. You hadn’t learned quite everything and the creators of the movie had given you enough faith and trust, convinced that you were gonna pull off something amazing… yet it was quite the opposite. Being scared of not knowing how to set up some scenes or how to act with actors definitely put a lot of stress on you and the movie came out like crap, there were lots of mistakes, scenes that had to be cut, outside voices that weren’t even supposed to be there. You received a lot of bad criticism and reviews, saying that your works sucked and that you weren’t worth of the title “movie director” and you felt as if you were destroying your career before it even started. You needed support, you needed maybe to hear from your mentor Megan, or from Jenna, but nothing.

Your applications for directing movies were always being turned down and you were starting to give up, until you got an email…

From: Tim Burton

To: (Y/N) (L/N)

Good morning. It took me a while to find your email address but finally I did and I have a proposal for you. It been following you and your road to being a director and I saw your first movie. It wasn’t the best movie both because of the plot and because of how it was directed, but you’re still young, you still have a lot to learn. If I were you, I wouldn’t think too much about it, trust me when I tell you that, my movies weren’t the best when I started either. Like Megan I also see some talent in you, and now that I have seen your work and now that you have some experience, I believe you can become a big director, which is why I’m offering you the opportunity to be my co-director. Not a student, a co-director. You’re in charge same as me, you can do what I do. What do you say?

This is how you ended up flying to Romania in July. Filming wouldn’t start for two more months and it would last around 8 months, but Tim wanted to get to know you, explain you some stuff and go through some things together. He had a lot of faith in you, even if he knew that your first and only work sucked. As soon as you arrived to the set, he and the crew - mind you, not the actors - were already there waiting for you. “Hello (Y/N), it’s so good to finally meet you!” He said and shook your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine! I’ve loved your works ever since I was a little kid. It’s good to have the chance to work with you. I’m not really sure why you want to work with me though. It’s clear that I’m not a good director” you said and sighed “oh don’t worry about that! That’s really not a problem. The way you work depends also on the genre you’re working with, and this is a series, not a movie. These are filmed in two very different ways.”

“What’s the series about anyways?” You asked him, and he handed you the script of the first episode. “Wednesday Addams” he started “it’s a Comedy-Horror show that talks about Wednesday during her teenage years in highschool, trying to find who’s behind a monster that has been killing people. It’s definitely gonna blow up” he gave you some time to look through the script “it does sound interesting. Definitely more interesting that my other projects. You think my performance as a director also depends on the genre?” He was sure of that and confirmed it again. The man definitely had a lot of experience, so you trusted him.

A month and a half passed and you and Tim had gone through pretty much everything. You went to every single detail of the set, both outsides and insides, then green screens, the scenes with the monster and CGI, it was all set. You just needed to wait for the actors, that would be coming today, as a matter of fact. You had never asked Tim who the actors would be, bot today as they were coming, you were curious, really curious. From what Tim had told you, they’re all about your age, which you didn’t mind at all. They started arriving: first Emma, then Percy, Joy, Hunter, and then… a car pulled up, a short ravenette coming out of it. She seemed familiar, the height, the body form… you had definitely seen her before

“Jenna?” You called once she recognized you. “(Y/N)? Oh my god it’s you!” She said and ran your way, to give you a tight hug. It had been a year since you last saw her, but she hadn’t changed one bit. If anything, you were slightly taller and she had to get on her toes to hug you properly. “I’m so sorry for not reaching out, I was so sure we had exchanged numbers! I even tried finding your email address but nothing” you started, hoping that she wasn’t mad at you “it’s fine really! Honestly I realized I didn’t have your number when I got to the airport, I wanted to warn you that I made it there and when I looked up for your contact I realized I didn’t have it. I’ve been wanting to reach out ever since- wait. Has your English gotten better?” She asked, just later noticing that you talked fluently now and that you’re pronunciation was immaculate.

You giggled at her question and pulled back from the hug, scratching your neck awkwardly “yeah. I’m definitely a mother tongue now” you chuckled and she laughed “that’s good! What are you doing here anyways?” She asked and you looked at Tim “I’m his co-director. Not quite sure why he chose me out of all people though” you laughed and watched Jenna go wide eyed “SERIOUSLY ? THAT’S AMAZING!” She said and hugged you again, as Tim spoke again. “I figured out it would be nice for you to have a friend here.”

That day as Jenna introduced you to the rest of the cast, you couldn’t help but be happier. Finally you were spending some time with Jenna again and you would be doing so for 8 months… now you just had to ask her for her number, so that when recordings were over, you would keep contact with her. However now you had to think of the present day. That same day you went to a bar with all of the cast, to get to know each other. Jenna already knew them and you didn’t, so you took advantage of the moment to get to know them. “So (Y/N), how did you two meet? It was so weird to see you two already knew each other.” Emma asked, she seemed really expansive, but she was actually really shy. “You know her movie “the fallout?” I was Megan’s student while filming. I’m from Italy and when I arrived I didn’t know English one bit, but she helped me a lot, she would come to my trailer even after filming, I owe her a lot.”

You saw as everyone went wide eyed. “You’re italian!??” They all said together, kind of startling you. “Yeah I am… is that weird?” Percy shook his head “no it’s just that you speak really fluently, we would have never guessed. How long have you been in America?” “Well after filming finished I stayed there so… about a year?” You said, looking at Jenna for confirmation, and she nodded “and you improved this much?” Percy asked, and You nodded “yeah. Jenna was right when she said that I had to ignore the grammar and go straight ahead to the hearing and speaking” everyone giggled and you were all soon brought your drink. You were sitting next to Jenna, and she had to slightly move over to you to grab her drink, and you slightly froze. Ever since you had broke up with your ex, the one who used you for sex, you never had someone this close.

You unfroze when Jenna, finally having grabbed her drink, moved back down at her place. You were lucky no one noticed you freezing. “I’ve been wondering, what did you di this year?” Jenna asked as she turned to look at you. “Well… after the fallout premiered, I tried making friends, I got a girlfriend, got the chance to direct a movie. I didn’t know everything yet, the movie sucked and I got criticized a lot. Movie creators didn’t want to hire me until Tim did so, here I am” you took a sip of your drink, that didn’t contain any alcohol as you didn’t drink Alcohol as you felt Jenna’s eyes on you forna few seconds before she spoke. “You… got a girlfriend?” She asked with a different tone than any other time. “Yeah, but it didn’t end well. She just used me for sex and I got my heart broken for like the thousand time” you shrugged and took another sip of your drink.

Jenna nearly chocked on her drink. “She used you? That sucks…” Jenna said and you shrugged again. “I’m used to it. The only friends I made only used me for money or for anything, really” you didn’t look at them. You’ve been feeling really bad mentally recently, and the fact that you didn’t have any friends never helped. “Well if we all become friends we won’t use you, trust us” Emma said, you nodded and finished your drink. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even get a new girlfriend. I saw some cute girls in the staff” Percy winked and you shook your head.

These are gonna be some long ass 8 months.

Tags: @idkjustliving2 @tundra1029 @engenelxver @rainbow-love4ever @gimaximoff

[ordinaryschmuck]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 made me cry three times.

Hey, that’s one per movie...Yeah, this movie’s awesome.

If you couldn’t tell, this is a very emotional film for sure, and a part of why that works so well is because it’s these characters. The Guardians are some of the most likable characters in the MCU, so seeing them go through a lot of hard stuff in this movie hits ya where it hurts because of how much you care about them. Especially Rocket, who I might not see the same way again after this movie due to his crazy tragic backstory.

Speaking of which, shit gets DARK with Volume 3! Do you like animals? Then maybe don’t watch this one, because there are scenes where animals get tortured, mutilated, mutated, and even killed throughout the film. You don’t see the REAL brutal stuff, but the implications that James Gunn puts in might actually be worse than SHOWING us. But don’t let that make you think we DON’T see any gruesome stuff in this. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 is one of the few MCU projects that EARNS its PG-13 rating, having some VIOLENT imagery and deaths. For example, there’s a moment where you see what a character really looks like, and it might just be the goriest thing the MCU has ever had, which is the biggest compliment I can give.

But despite all that, it’s still funny! Like, REALLY funny! And the jokes don’t spoil and dramatic or serious moment in the film, either...Well, except for maybe one or two scenes, but that’s NOTHING compared to films where the jokes completely harm the final product like Thor: Love and Thunder. Here, the jokes are perfectly placed, are rarely forced in, and are ACTUALLY funny. Me and everyone in the theater were cackling with laughter a LOT throughout the movie. I could barely restrain myself from belting out a laugh or two half the time.

And the action. Holy SHIT, the action! These “trilogies” in the MCU really know how to save the cool stuff for the third movies. Iron Man 3, Captain America: Civil War, Thor: Ragnarok, Spider-Man: No Way Home, and now THIS FILM all feature some of the most epic, creative, and fun action scenes and set-pieces in the MCU. There’s a hallway fight that might just top Daredevil’s due to how violent and creative it is with these characters, their powers, and how they kill people. It really does feel like James Gunn wanted to give the fans a few final cool battles before leaving the MCU forever.

Which brings me to another thing about what makes this movie awesome: It is a clear send-off for James Gunn and the Guardians. The movie makes it VERY clear that this will be the last time all these characters will be together. Hell, the credits features pictures of the Guardians throughout their journies and adventures in the MCU. The most we’ll PROBABLY get are cameos, but other than that, this is the end for most of these characters. And WHAT an end it was.

If there’s anything to complain about, there’s two problems.

#1, Adam Warlock. The character isn’t...bad and Will Poulter nails the voice I always pictured this character having. But he doesn’t really nail who Warlock is in the comics and, overall, he’s kind of...pointless. You can easily write him out of the movie and make a few extra tweaks NOTHING would be missing. Honestly, it feels like the only reason why he’s here is because Volume 2 teased his appearance and James Gunn had no choice but to...bring him in for this last ride. Also, Warlock has the worst costume in the MCU. I mean, look at this:

What even is this?

Which brings me to #2--Which is my most nitpickiest complaint: Star Lord doesn’t wear his mask. Ever. Throughout all two hours and a half hours of this film. It’s part of a bigger complain I have where characters don’t mask up as much as they should in these movies, but it doesn’t stop how distracting it is. I don’t want see Chrisp Ratt’s stupid face in this. I want to see STAR LORD.

THIS! I want to see THIS! And the crazy thing is that Volume 3 finally gives the Guardians their comic accurate uniforms, but don’t go all the way in giving us Star Lord’s mask. Not even the original one they made for these movies. Part of the fun of superheroes are their cool and iconic costumes so it sucks that we don’t get to see enough of that. Imagine if Spider-Man: No Way Home or Captain America: Civil War didn’t have Peter and Steve wear their masks for the big and epic fights, including the finale battles. It wouldn’t be great, would it? Seeing Tom Holland and Chris Evans fight instead of Spider-Man and Captain America.

LET YOUR HEROES WEAR MASKS, YOU COWARDS!

...But other than that, this movie’s a near perfect 9/10 for me.

Now, does this mean Marvel’s back on their game and they’ll be making good movies again?

...We’ll see.

For now, I’ll remain hopeful. Because while the MCU is going through a bit of a rough patch with its films and recent shows, there’s still some fun to be had. I’ll always keep an eye out for what they have next, even if it’s not always as good as it could be, it’ll always lead me to seeing...

A fun, nostalgic thrill-ride that honors Spider-Man and what makes him so awesome.

A touching tribute to Chadwick Boseman and how much he and the character he portrayed meant to others.

And this final ride that’s fun, tragic, and complete in all the right ways.

[autismcats]

what is the real hidden message of frozen 2′s “show yourself”?

so i got the inspiration earlier to finally rewatch that frozen 2 “show yourself” music video on youtube, and i had some thoughts in the middle of doing so.

as a disclaimer, i just want to say that i’m absolutely queer myself. this is not to discredit others’ interpretations of the song, and this is just my own take regarding my life experiences. i’m not claiming to speak for everyone in this post. in fact, i do still believe queerness has a lot to do with the subtext inside of the lyrics.

but anyway, i remember when the movie was in theaters at the end of 2019 and there were plenty of articles written about how “show yourself” has a hidden meaning about accepting the idea of being queer. there are lots of people my age who were new to identifying as lesbian, gay, bi, and/or trans at the time and i thought it made a lot of sense, especially because the headcanon and theory that elsa is a closeted lesbian was so popular at the time. it paved the way to shipping elsa + honeymaren (elsamaren) and made it easy to read frozen 2′s ending with them dating.

and that’s definitely notable ─ i’m not disagreeing!

but something always felt off about how i related to the lyrics personally and i was never sure why.

until i stumbled upon it again today.

in my opinion, i think the song is better heard with autism (or otherwise neurodivergency) in mind. it tells my story of finding the missing piece much better than it does of my realizing that i’m bi + trans, as well as my coming out.

again, i don’t think the LGBTQ+ reading is wrong! honestly i believe it comes down to a mix of both that and the autistic reading. but i see the latter outweighing the former here.

to me, i looked up these lyrics on google and my mind went straight to getting a diagnosis, an answer as to why my social life has always been so wrong:

i've never felt so certain all my life i've been torn but i'm here for a reason could it be the reason i was born? i have always been so different normal rules did not apply is this the day? are you the way i finally find out why?

everyone has something different to say about what part of their identity has impacted their experiences the most growing up. for me, it’s being neurodivergent. my sexuality, probably like most people (but of course not for many others), didn’t show up until my teenage years; same with my internal gender and outer presentation. my autism, however, has been present and influenced who i am for my whole life. i felt elsa’s longing and determination to find answers to her lifelong questions about not just who, but how & why she is in her musical journey throughout the ice caves.

i feel like we can all say confidently that who we are, regarding being queer, is something we can answer with the factual statement that we are queer and that’s just that, unless of course we get into the old debate regarding if it exists as nature vs. nurture. regardless, it’s always innate to some degree, and doesn’t inherently determine our personalities, behaviors, or understandings. autism & ADHD both do; it’s literally what defines autism as we know it.

that’s my argument. as i said, i’m not looking to “prove” anything or present my subjective opinion as objective fact. my take isn’t that the neurodivergent interpretation is more important or valid than the queer interpretation, just that i prefer the second option over the first.

either way, elsa is, without a doubt, an autistic sapphic! this is (part of) what makes her a valuable, relatable character to a lot of young people and we should always celebrate that. ♡

[smww4ever]

Hello! Hello!

Hope you're good?

What did you think of Henry Cavill's portrayal of Clark Kent/Superman ?

And do you think they made the right choice in picking david corenswet ?

Well Hello Hello there! Thanks for asking. Hope you’re well too.

Flattered you care for my opinion and thoughts on this. Well I read your questions, so here goes…

Henry Cavill was born to play Superman. It was actually exciting to see his cameo in Black Adam. Wow I thought there’s that movie magic you hardly see anymore and then they killed it. The public was robbed of what could have been. Even the cameo in Shazam in which he should have been so we could have seen his face was theft. We will never get to see his version of Superman fleshed out. Sad, man, sad.

If they never ‘restore the Snyderverse’ whatever you may feel about the director, it will be another gaping hole in cinema history.

Add to that, we never got to see Superman get older, or any engaging stories and villains. It’s always the same origin story, same villain (Lex), rescue the damsel (Lois) and maybe he dies in the end.

Ah yes Mr. Corenswet

David, frankly looks like the Dollar Store version of Cavill. No hate on the man. Since they got rid of Henry, they went with an obvious clone. How he will carry the role?…we shall see if they ever release a trailer. No teasers at the SDCC which Gunn had opportunity for but only revealed a lame logo.

The pictures and video from the filming in Cleveland look awful. I know many have convinced themselves that it looks freaking awesome! But it just reminds me of when your loved one cooks you a meal and trying to be nice you eat it knowing full well that it needs to be thrown in the trash. Me on the other hand, I’m the friend who got invited to the meal and can see a mile away that it will send me straight to the toilet. So I just nod, smile and politely decline the meal saying, “Oh no thanks I already ate.” 😂

I don’t have any high hopes for this new Superman film. It will be like most of Gunn’s movies have been: jokes and vulgarity, and Amanda Waller in everything.

As for SuperWonder fans, the movie will be Lois-centric. So guys, just go watch SuperWonder animated.

Heck even the popular TV show Superman & Lois got axed. I don’t watch it but if they’re not listening to the SuperWonder fans, they sure as heck aren’t listening to the Clois fans either.

If I’m wrong and it turns out to be the Dawn of A New Beginning for DC [in a Vought-voice] and Gunn is the DC savior then I guess I must have missed out on some tasty slop.

Hope that answers your question. Christopher Reeve was great as Superman. Movies back then had that magic. I remember seeing that movie when it came out in the theater. He should have done a Superman 6 movie tbh as corny as the other sequels were, and they really missed the boat in not doing any team-ups with the actors of that time: Lynda Carter, Adam West and Chris Reeve. We all see it now in Ai explorations and sadly it’s too late.

You know I get this same look when I’m in the bathroom. Hope he doesn’t tear up a giant hole in the concrete.

Until next time or next question… ✌️ 😂

[27emailsicantsend]

So do you think we’ll end up getting secret dating Rina or is that off the table? Regardless they look so happy in the teaser I can’t wait to have them back!!

So I think I’m one of the only people who still could see secret dating Rina happening! I think people saw them dancing publicly so it was a jump that everyone knows they are dating.

Here’s why:

I think Gina is going to have her rep on the line because the documentary kind of airs her as a cheater. They make ricky look completely oblivious to her “prying her way to him”. There is probably going to be some nasty things being rumored about her and obviously ricky won’t stand for this so they are secret dating.

In episode one, Gina is nowhere in the outside scene and when she and Ricky are in the theater, they’re not sitting by each other. I know they don’t HAVE to be, but in previous seasons whether happy or upset with each other they were almost always by each other. Red’s basement, Ashlyn’s Thanksgiving party, the snowed in episode, Ashlyn’s NYE party (not on the same couch, but by each other)… I could go on. I’ve said this a lot before, shows are VERY intentional about every movement a character makes. Where they sit, what they do, etc. especially because scenes are usually filmed multiple times so they need continuity. Ricky and Gina sitting apart does not feel coincidental.

My theory is that the director does not know Ricky and Gina are dating (no one does). Ricky is upset the show is happening, so he tries to mess up his audition so he doesn’t have to be in the show.

But Gina and Mack audition and because they’re both dancers…

They get cast as leads.

But because of Ricky’s luck/charm/ongoing joke he gets every lead role without trying (BATB still baffles me… mans was struggling and got the lead), he gets casted as the alternate to Sharpay. (They needed an alternate for Troy, Gabriella, and Sharpay since Zac Vanessa and Ashley aren’t there). But the director has a quirky idea to make Ricky a nerd instead of a diva.

In HSM, Sharpay has Zeke, but don’t forget she fawns over Troy. A lot. So maybe the director makes some love triangle where Ricky is just supposed to “fawn” over Gabriella but she is supposed to be with Troy in the end. But she notices the chemistry between Ricky and Gina and they end up falling in love in the movie (a direct call out to Tim changing his mind in 1x5 from R*ni to Rina).

Meanwhile, Rina are trying really hard not to show they are dating. I imagine the scene of them dancing (4x2 probably) as Miss Jenn having them casted as Troyella at the table read. She is like “so I was thinking for one of the songs…” and Gina interrupts excitedly and is like “oh Ricky and I have been practicing a routine! We already have one” and they get up and dance at the literal table read (nothing is prepped yet). You can tell they are not slick at hiding their flirting and that’s why everyone in the room is smiling… because they’re like 🤨🤨 that was a little flirty?? They sus out rina big time because Ricky and Gina are supposed to be “just friends” to protect Gina’s image.

But, if you remember at the end of S3 Corbin “said” he turned off the camera and they were still mic’d. It’s not great, but it would be a BIG plot twist if Corbin pretended to be a good guy end of s3 to get the kids on his good side and trusting him, so he could turn around and reveal more secrets once he got their trust. OR even though Channing isn’t in the season, they could say that Channing released the hidden footage/conversation to get more people watching the doc.

Either way, Rina is going to get caught… but literally no one will be that surprised 😂

**this is all completely speculation but oh it would be so cute**

[heyheyitsjae]

Alright so a new trailer for A Minecraft Movie came out (and a few behind the scenes videos in the interim). It’s a massive improvement over the previous teaser and I have a lot more positive things to say, but it still hasn’t really swayed me on seeing it in theaters. My overall thoughts are the same as they have been. The environment/sets are very pretty and nice, the Mobs have an uncanny and freaky vibe to them that doesn’t sit well, and while not AS poorly green screened the actors don’t mesh with the world and their dialogue feels cheesy and poorly delivered. However, with the presentation of this trailer I’m starting to get the visual identity the film is going for and appreciate it a bit more. I still would’ve preferred either an animation, or if it had to be live action ditching the cube aesthetic, but its style is starting to grow on me. That said, a better trailer doesn’t necessarily mean a better movie. 

The Bee has been leaked before, and as before I think it’s decently cute. 

I am so torn on the “as a child I yearned for the mines” line. On the one hand it is really funny, on the other hand it’s only funny because it’s a pre established meme and this is a massive “hello fellow kids” moment. Minecraft has had a nasty habit of cashing in on community memes long after the time has passed. They added Screaming Goats to the game a decent bit after the screaming goat meme had already died, and now that Mob is incredibly dated. They made this hilarious walk and dance tune for Frogs for Minecraft Live a few years back, and have been dragging that dead horse out of the mud to beat it with a stick for just about every community event since then even though it’s no longer funny. As hilarious as they are, just about every Narrator and MARILLA episode has some sort of dig at the Phantom yet THEY STILL HAVEN’T TRIED TO FIX THE FUCKING PHANTOMS!!! THEY KNOW PEOPLE HATE THEM AND ARE DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT, JUST RUBBING IT IN! We’re laughing at how stupid and ridiculous the line is now, but I’m sure by the time the film actually comes out it will have been so saturated in the marketing it’s no longer funny. 

The zoom out as Steve enters the Overworld is weird. It took me a while to realize it lines up with the music. Speaking of, It's so cool they’re actually using C418 for the trailer!... only to fade it out for another fucking radio song that doesn’t really fit. Come on guys, Otherside would’ve fit the vibe of this trailer perfectly! 

When Steve’s placing dirt the sounds of the dirt placing don’t line up with his actions. I’m guessing they originally showed more of him building and forgot to edit the trailer’s music since that’s what the sounds DO line up with. 

The Wolf was one of the better looking designs from the teaser and I’ll admit it is pretty cute here. The animation of the collar popping up with the hearts is really slick and I love it. It is weird that he’s taming an angry Wolf, but maybe the Wolf was just mad at the Sheep nearby and not Steve? Idk. 

Maybe it’s just the lighting but uh… why is there no gold along the edges of those Powered Rails? They look more like Activator Rails. That feels like a very major thing to miss. 

One of the dumber complaints I saw going around with the previous teaser was people going “‘Steve’s Lava Chicken,’ the fuck’s that mean?” The second I saw that sign my assumption was Steve set up a lava-based Chicken auto-cooker, those are pretty common! And sure enough, he did! One thing is though, I’m not sure the design shown off here would actually work? My first thought was you’d have to get the timing of the Pistons opening and closing pretty precise in order to have the Flowing Lava touch the Chicken and set it on fire while also letting it dissipate before the Chicken actually burned to death so it wouldn’t destroy the items. 

But I saw a couple of explanations floating about for it. The first was that the Chicken was standing on a slab, as it didn’t line up with the glass in the window, in which case this design would 100% work. The second was the Chicken was on a trapdoor that dropped it just as it got set on fire… and sure enough someone managed to build a working version of it in-game! 

The Chicken itself is decent, I mostly like it. My one issue is its eyes. That brown iris and black pupil makes its eyes SUPER beady. And like, their eyes are pretty beady in the base game, but this lad is staring into your soul and I hate it. That said, the Cooked Chicken does look pretty good… 

We see Villagers in the background a lot during these scenes (even old Wandy T my beloved.) I think it’s cool that they’ve got a variety of Biome outfits, not just their professions, which really adds a lot of extra variety to the town. They’re in the background and blurred a lot so you can’t really make out their faces that much… but they are usually a bit cursed. There are a handful of shots (usually when you see them head on) where they’re actually kind of cute! But they’re undoubtedly weird lookin’.  

The first time I saw this trailer one thing that really confused me was the extended version of the Ghast-hot-air-balloon scene, cause it looked like they just kind of shot at nothing there. Going frame by frame though, you can see a white triangle kind of thing dart across the mountainside and fly out from under the fireball. I think we’re gonna get a midair combat scene of Ghast vs Elytra-player.

The Nether was the best looking part of the previous trailer, and it still looks great here. I love the sort of Legends-like combination of Bastion and Fortress leading up to a central, decorated portal. But also, the dog is there. Are the Piglins gonna kill Steve’s Wolf? Is that how this conflict starts? DOES THE DOG DIE MOJANG!?!?

The 2D visual is fun, I hope they have more creative shots like that in the final product. One thing I noticed the first time is Garret here is digging into an already established tunnel, and something someone else pointed out is there’s TNT buried in the ground next to him. It seems like they’re luring the Skeletons into some kind of pit-trap. Seems excessive to basic night-time Googlies to me, but still cool. 

Alright the punching and placing wood thing is actually badass. There was a lot of weight behind it (in both directions) that I like. 

We saw “The Stash™®©” in the previous teaser and BTS but I'll talk about it a bit anyway. I really hope we get actual shelving to store our items in the official game soon, that’s been a long time coming. While it’s definitely wishful thinking, the Boots of Swiftness from Dungeons being here makes me hope some spin-off loot is added to the main game as part of a movie-tie-in. The new Drops system would facilitate that, at least to a degree. The Golden Carrots look freakin’ weird though, and I’m not sure why Steve has two different spots for them. We get a better look at a suit of Gold Armor here and… it’s odd. Real humans have different proportions than Minecraft dudes, so in order for any sort of armor to fit the chestplate has to be a bit bigger than normal and the helmet way smaller. I’m sure it looks better being worn by someone, but it just looks doofy and dumb right now on the stand. Like you guys know the old live action Mario Movie? I’m getting Goomba vibes from this fit. 

Man… I’m so disappointed about the Elytra. You see, a long standing point of contention with Minecraft fans is that the in-game wings are called Elytra, but Elytra aren’t actually wings. They’re protective pieces of an insect's shell that open up to allow the actual wings to unfurl and let them fly. In some of the concept art for the film we saw their original plans for the Elytra. It was going to a beetle-shell-like pack on the human’s back, that would open to reveal softer wings that would fold out and let them fly, very similar to an actual bug. In the film they seem to have picked the worst of both worlds. The Elytra is just a big chunky plate that looks more like the shell than the wings, and has a very bland design, basically just copy-pasting the in-game texture for its edges. It doesn’t even look to be attached to the human’s bodies at all, just awkwardly floating behind them. (Also Jack Black doesn’t have his own Elytra, he’s riding Mamoa in the background, bet people are gonna have a field day with that.) 

Oh yeah, this is more of commentary on the full scene they released a while back than the trailer, but I love that you use the little hammer on the side of the Crafting Table to perform your crafting. One thing that I’d love is that if you are “breaking” something in a crafting recipe instead of “assembling it” (like Planks into Sticks, or Diamond Blocks into Diamond items) it would be cool if you used the saw on the side of the Crafting Table instead. If that actually happens I’ll literally cream. 

Steve wacks a Zombie with its own arm. That’s one of those things where you can’t do it in-game, but of course you could in reality, so it's fun to see, but it highlights an issue we’re gonna get to later. 

The Iron Golem looks fucking awesome!!! It’s 100% the best Mob design we’ve seen in the film yet. I think a big part of that is because it’s already an artificial thing, so there’s no distracting skin/fur texture or unnerving body shape. Either way it's cool!.

There’s a bit of a blink and you’ll miss it bit as they’re jumping off that building with Elytra  that I have… thoughts on. You see, one of the things we learned from the BTS videos is that Henry’s (the kid in the red shirt) role in the film is he’s a modder. He’s capable of altering the game’s code and adding new content into it. During this scene, he’s holding a freaking gun! He modded a gun into the game. 

And you see… this rubs me an awful way. A lot of the time when people complain about Minecraft they take jabs at “Mojang’s hypocrisy.” A lot of the time I think these arguments are a bit poorly thought out, researched, or invalid. 90% of the time people look at a stated Mojang policy and then point to a feature that either A) was developed in the Notch era and grandfathered in so Jeb had to deal with it despite having a different vision (see Spiders and Silverfish) or B) was received so poorly it’s why Mojang have the conflicting policy in the first place (see Polar Bears.) But here we’ve hit my first personal-angry-”you hypocrites”-Mojang moment. 

A year or so ago Mojang went out on a crusade banning and sending cease-and-desists toward mod-makers that… added guns into the game. It was probably the most intense take down of community content and changing of public policy they had ever done, and they were very aggressive about it. Now, here they are, making a character who’s supposed purpose is to celebrate the modding community and suddenly they’re jumping on the “guns are cool, thanks for adding guns to our game” bandwagon? So people are allowed to mod guns into Minecraft… on the condition Microsoft can make profit off of it? That’s kinda lame dude. 

And, TBF, it’s not a black-and-white betrayal of morals. The gun-mod takedowns were primarily targeted at people adding real-life weaponry into Minecraft, while the gun we see in this trailer is a comical pirate/steampunky looking one. I personally never really cared for those realistic gun mods, they broke immersion too much for me, but I did think going through such efforts to censor them was silly. After such a recent PR nightmare, expressing the exact opposite opinion without really addressing why and trying to sweep it under the rug is an odd choice and doesn’t sit right with me. To me it feels like another one of those hollow pretend-to-care-when-you-don’t things. Like they added all those new skins to the game a few years back to “add diversity’, but then in this film they don’t use any of those diverse characters and white-washed Steve. Or to pick a non-Minecraft example, Disney pumping out a shit ton of rainbow merch for Pride Month but canceling their top-performing-animation after it had a lesbian couple and not allowing a different show’s finale to air ‘cause it had a trans character. Gotta ban guns from the game to prevent shootings and violent crime, but when it’s in the comedy-action-adventure movie it’s “haha fun action, funny times, look at how cool this gun is” Maybe they’ll treat the gun with some kind of tact when the film comes out, the kid does ditch it to take flight after all, but right now it feels like corporate wanting their cake and eating it too. 

You know, I actually started writing this whole breakdown after the trailer came out, but I got busy with schoolwork and put off finishing it for a few weeks. I’m adding this new bit here now, turns out I’m not so alone in this thought. Apparently the Mojang-gun-mod controversy just started popping off again to the degree someone is planning on suing Mojang!?!? I’ve noticed other people in the comments poo-pooing the gun in the trailer too now, so that’s something. 

This might be a minor gripe but I can’t get it out of my head… WHY DOES STEVE ONLY HAVE 1 ENDER PEARL!?!? I’d say in your typical Minecraft playthrough you’re probably only going to get like 1-3 Ender Pearls before you start actually working toward The End, so only having 1 isn’t that weird of a thing. BUT Steve has been on this world for at least a decade by the looks of things, and he has TWO Elytra meaning he’s definitely opened the End Portal and killed the Ender Dragon at this point. 

From then on you could make the argument that he just doesn’t like fighting in the game, and/or he doesn’t know how to build a Mob-farm and kill a bunch of Endermen. But in The Stash™®© he has AN ENTIRE SHELF dedicated to Firework Rockets. That means he has a decent supply of Gunpowder meaning he either is a good enough fighter to kill a bunch of Creepers, or he’s managed to make a Mob-farm for it. My best explanation, as I’ll mention again later, it’s likely that Mobs in this Movie-verse don’t operate on the same spawning and AI rules, so Endermen just might not be nearly as predictable in the film as they are in-game. This does seem to be a fusion of the main game and all its spinoffs, and in Dungeons Endermen are WAY stronger than the base-game, to the point they’re classified as a miniboss, so I’m willing to buy Endermen can just fuck your shit up in this world. Until we actually get a feeling for their strength though I’m still gonna point and laugh at noob Steve here with only 1 Pearl to his name, what a loser! 

Also… it’s odd that the Ender Pearl is like, sooo round. Like it’s not a perfect sphere, it’s still made of blocks, but it’s mostly round. Like in-game the sprites for Apples and Ender Pearls are about as round as each other, but Apples are square in the movie and Pearls are not? I’m gonna give them the benefit of the doubt and assume this is just another way of selling how alien The End is, but it’s probably just more inconsistency in melding blockiness and real life.

The Zombies look fuckin’ creepy. Like I guess they’re monsters, they’re supposed to be ugly, but still it's a bit of that uncanny-nastiness we got in the previous trailer. The Skeletons look much better. Their faces are still a tad odd, but on the whole I like them. We also get to see Spider Jockeys! Hell yeah! The Spiders are only there for a few frames and are blurred, but what little we see looks good. They were one of the concept arts that stood out to me. 

One thing that is odd about the night scene is just how amped up the monsters seem to be. 10, yeah TEN freaking flaming arrows are shot at our cast at once. We then see TWO Spider Jockeys, both of whom have Enchanted Bows (presumably with Flame) but that means there’s at least 8 other Skeletons with Enchants in the area and, possibly, their own mounts. Enchanted gear on Skelly’s is decently rare, it’s even rarer to see ‘em riding Spiders, but two Mobs that beefed up in the same party!?!? Those are ridiculous odds! I’m assuming the movie is going to have some sort of plot along the lines of the monsters of the Overworld are getting stronger and our heroes have to find out who’s helping them. Also since these are film characters and not game AI… like 100% Skeletons are smart enough to gather buffed gear from their fallen comrades and mount nearby Spiders IRL right? It makes sense from, like, a movie perspective, but still feels impossible, ya know? 

Apparently they also showed off a Cow design on social media. It’s got the same derp-eye problem of the previous teaser and I don’t really care for it, feels like another step backwards.

Now that’s everything about the trailer itself, but I’ve got a few other concerns. A major one is the actors for the film and the marketing around them. So far the entirety of the films marketing has been around Jack Black as Steve and Jason Mammoa as Garret, and the rest of the cast has been left by the wayside. This is in spite of the fact that, based on what we’ve been told in the BTS content, Henry played by Sebastion Hansen is actually the main character in the movie. Despite this, I don’t know if we’ve even been given any lines of dialogue from him in the trailers. He has been completely pushed by the wayside which is very concerning, and I can think of 3 reasons why. 

1st, (and most likely IMO) is that hollywood is cashing in on star power to try and sell the film. Since Black and Mamoa are pretty well known household names they’re hammering in on them and leaving the rest of the cast to flounder. It’s a pretty annoying move as lots of movies have been doing it recently, picking big names to push tickets even if they don’t actually fit the role or play little part in the plot. 

2nd, is maybe the kid’s a really bad actor and they're trying to cover it up. Personally I find this hard to believe, as he’s been pretty well put together in interviews and it’s not like Black or Mamoa’s performances have been stellar, but there’s a lot of infamy around child actors and maybe things just didn’t pan out like the studio wigs hoped. 

3rd, and the most hopeful one, is they’re trying to protect the kid. Whenever controversial movies come out people tend to attack, berate, and bully the people in them, and young folks often get the worst of it. The world of a child actor is shitty enough, but being a child actor in a B-movie is a sure fire way for people to slap you on a crucifix. 

Speaking about bullying the actors, I’m gonna eat my own words here a bit because… I think focusing on Black and Mamoa was real bad move. 

In Black’s case I just don’t think his delivery has been very good. Just about every line they’ve shown of his has been real stilted and awkward, like he’s really hamming up and exaggerating everything he says, and it’s kind of distracting. There are definitely lines delivered better, like that intro they had in this trailer, but a lot of ‘em just feel either inhuman or like he’s talking down to a bunch of children. If he talks like that for the entire movie I’m gonna sho- (remembers not to make casual suicide jokes in order to encourage a positive mindset) turn on KeepInventory and jump into a cactus. 

And for Mamoa his actual acting has been stellar so far, but the character is a problem. While I’m sure it’s up to personal tastes, Garett the Garbage Man Garrison's presentation so far just feels so… overdone. He’s been nothing but annoying in the teasers so far. Which IS the point of his character, so that’s good, the problem is that if he’s used as much in the actual film as the trailers have so far the joke is gonna get old fast. It kinda leaves a sour taste of the entire cast in your mouth as you’re worried if everyone else is gonna act like this. 

This has created a situation where 3 members of the cast we’ve been given no details on, one isn’t playing the part well, and the other is infuriating. It doesn’t matter how much someone likes Black or Mamoa if they aren’t playing the role well it isn’t going to sell anyone on the movie. 

My next big issue with the film is it’s supposed to be a comedy but so far, honestly, it hasn’t been that funny. The only joke in either trailer to make me laugh was the “yearn for the mines one” and, as mentioned before, they stole that one from the community! Everything else hasn’t really tickled me. 

It still feels very much in the “he’s right behind me *gulp*” level of camp, which is just eye rolling at this point. A lot of the humor also just kind of boils down to “oh hey look at this WEIRD thing from Minecraft, isn’t this thing so WEIRD and STUPID” and I’m just kind of sick of that. Not only is it alienating the audience the film is trying to go for, but it’s also doing so willingly for the main reason that: this film can’t decide if it's a game or not. 

It’s using things like being live action, or the Mobs acting smarter, or being able to rip off a Zombie’s arm, or things having finer decoration/detail to sell the idea that is a real breathing world. Yet at the same time, there’s a bunch of things that only exist in Minecraft in the first place as a part of game convenience that are put into this film just to be gawked at. Everything being made of squares, trees floating, items dropping as small floating and spinning things. These are all just elements to make Minecraft as a game feel easily understandable and easy to play. Steve doesn’t literally have a giant gray box and have words appear in midair when naming something on an Anvil, that’s just how we the player engage with the game world. 

We know that the Minecraft world doesn’t LITERALLY function like this. Turtle Eggs look rounder in the inventory than when placed as blocks, so they aren’t literally square. The Orb of Dominance is called an “orb” even though it looks like a cube in-game because it’s not actually a cube. Skeletons are the only Mob to drop bones not because none of the other animals have skeletons, but to add a rewarding reason to fight them. 

In one of the music disks we hear a player plunking and pulling apart Chicken meat because they don’t ACTUALLY become a floating item when killed. But, having to go through separate actions/minigames/motions to pluck all of the chicken’s feathers, and behead the chicken, and drain most of its guts and blood, isn’t done in-game for a reason. From a gameplay perspective it would make food-prep in the game very slow and annoying, and from a marketing perspective it would make the game too gorey for children. There’s only so much code you can fit in a file and only so much time you can have a developer write that code, so if a function isn’t needed to sell the fun of a game it won’t be added, even if it’s “logical.” 

When adapting a game feature to another medium it can be tricky to determine what does or does not get adapted and how to do so. You could go simple like the Mario Movie. Mario magically gets bigger when he touches a mushroom in the games, so the movie interpreted this as him eating them, which was what most people assumed happened anyway. You could also go complicated like the Sonic Movie. In the Sonic Games, rings essentially function as Sonic’s health. If he has rings and gets hit he drops them, and if hit again he dies. The movie re-interpreted this as the rings not literally providing him with lifeforce, but that the rings are powerful relics he needs to get home and he can't let them fall into enemy hands, so losing them would be bad for him and good for anyone trying to get to his homeworld. 

So far, A Minecraft Movie seems to keep most of these mechanics “gamey” despite trying to turn it into the real world. Poking fun at Minecraft’s silly logic can be fun, even hilarious, but most works that do that stick to the game’s silly style to embrace that silliness. You can’t insist the game is closer in line to reality, not change it to match reality, and then make fun of it for not being reality. It’s not the universe’s fault that that feature is weird, it’s your fault as a writer for not adapting it to the new medium.

[coffbeanie]

guess who finally came up with some hcs!! these range from serious to silly, so if you guys want something specific or hcs for a character i didn’t include, feel free to request it!!

Some context!!

Kai, Jay, Cole, Zane (and my Ocs) are around the same age, and all in the same grade,

Lloyd and Nya are a grade below them

Pixal is in the same grade as the rest of the Kai, Jay, Cole, Zane, and the OCs, but she’s the same age as Lloyd and Nya cause she skipped a grade

Morro is older than the rest of them, but in the same grade as Kai, Jay, Cole, Zane, and the OCs, since he was held back.

Also for funsies i think the movie takes place their in Lloyd’s sophomore year (not relevant just wanted to say that)

Lloyd

He’s not too involved in school activities. It’s not for a lack of trying, he’s just pushed out and silently excluded from most stuff (not being told when there’s a meeting, not being told when a meeting location is moved, etc)

When the other ninja realize this, they’ll drag him to their own club meetings, though Lloyd realizes how awkward he makes everything, so he usually puts down their invitations

Lloyd is an above average student, though his grades would make you think he’s some kind of prodigy-the teachers are just less harsh in grading him-they don’t know what Lord Garmadon would do if his kid had a crappy report card

That’s also why he doesn’t suffer the same repercussions as the rest of the Secret Ninja Force for missing class (though they skip the same periods and miss for the same amount of time)

That’s also why publically, the Green Ninja became the most popular-Lloyd could just afford to be out as a Ninja more often, so he got a better rep

He actually does really well in his history classes though. He doesn’t really have to study for those, he just writes down whatever his uncle Wu says when he starts talking about “the good ol’ days”

He hates PE though-he tries to hold back on his skills which usually leads to him getting brutally beaten in most games

He’s also taking an elective class related to religion. He’s not too spiritual himself, he just likes hearing the myths about the FSM (i imagine that if the school had anything close to a religion class, it would be about the FSM’s creation of the world and the Elemental Powers, but it’s all just regarded as myth)

Kai

Kai is exempt from taking shop classes (he was a danger to himself and the other students) Not that he’s complaining though, cause he wasn’t that good at them in the first place

Not too involved in school clubs either-just by choice, he’ll just follow his friends around whenever they have to go to a club meeting

Not the best student-he could be doing really well if he tried, he just doesn’t really put in the effort, and he feels he’d rather put his energy towards the Secret Ninja Force

That being said, if any of his friends are having help with the homework, he’s the first one to try and help them (keyword IS try)-he won’t do it his own work, but he won’t let his friends’ grades suffer, especially since he knows they’re so smart and don’t deserve it

lives off pencils he finds on the ground

was also probably on the basketball team before joining the Secret Ninja Force (he just gives me basketball vibes idk-he’d look good in the fit)

Cole

Hates the theater kids (he tried out for the school play freshman year, humiliated himself during the audition process, and never wants to be seen near the stage again)

Takes music as an elective-he plays the piano, and he’s really good! The music teacher has tried countless times to get him to join the school orchestra, but he turns her down every time (orchestra plays for the school musicals)

Likes headphones for the aesthetic, but uses whatever Ninjago’s equivalent of airpods are-they’re easy to hide under his longer hair

Made personalized playlist for his friends

His house is the go-to hang out spot (his dad is usually out playing a venue)

Member of the school vinyl club (my school has one but i’m not in it so i’m not really sure what they do other than share albums with each other, but i think thats cool) its a part of his side mission to bring better music taste to the school

takes home ec (idk the one in the movies) and he’s stupidly good at every domestic chore there is

he’s a lot smarter than he looks and he’s really chill so he’s everyone’s fav tutor

Jay

designated group photographer-everyone asks him to send photos in their gc after they hang out

doesn’t do photography in school though-all his electives are filled with shop and computer sciences classes

actually used those classes to help come up with the ninja mechs (he did it with the help of nya and zane)

It was also through shop classes that he got close with Nya

This also arguably makes him the most sleep deprived-all his homework along with Secret Ninja Force stuff means he doesn’t get too rest too much)

stupid smart but DO NOT ask him for study tips-he doesn’t study he’s just smart

this PLUS his sleep deprivation means he’s mastered sleeping in class without getting caught

too socially awkward for most clubs-he tried to do the robotics team but he wasnt too comfy with the team aspect )he wasn’t given the push to get close to those kids like he was with the secret Ninja Force)

Zane

If you guys thought he was bad with all his robot-ness in the movie

he was straight up emotionless freshman year. he’s taking in information around him to act more human, but it’s not quite working since everyone is so different and constantly changing as they go through phases-it’ll take him a bit to figure himself out

Also why he’s not in any clubs-he was around so many different kids and was filtering through so much info that it didn’t really help him at all and left him confused so he dropped out of most

He WOULD be a teacher’s pet if he didn’t struggle keeping up conversation with them-he just kind of freaks them out

only kid who still uses books-he freaks out if he accidentally connects to his device’s bluetooth

It’s actually through bluetooth that most kids know he’s a robot, (he shows up as a device they can connect to) even if he thinks he’s doing a real good job at hiding it

The smartest kid-is probably going to graduate class valedictorian

Also not in too many electives, but is always in the highest ap or honors course offered to him

Sets up study groups for his friends-always reminding them when they are

Probably the best trained ninja-think of him like a tablet where you can still do stuff on it even if it’s charging, so he’ll do most of his homework and studying while he’s charging, and since he doesn’t have anything else to do after the fact, he just trains

he’ll still wear himself out from time to time, so the ninja carry around portable chargers for him, and jay and nya put one in his mech

Nya

Even though she’s younger than them, she’s in the same classes as Kai and Cole since she tested out of the classes for her year

Would be a favorite students by teachers if she didn’t insist on driving her motorcycle around

Definitely in her school’s equivalent of the girls club?? (idk what the general term for it is in my school its called Voices of Women)

at my school they do an equal pay bake sale where girls pay 50 cents and guys pay a dollar based on the gender pay gap-she wanted to contribute but can’t bake so zane helped her make stuff

she wants to be in other clubs like debate and the robotics team but since she was pushed into the Ninja Force from the get go, she didn’t get a chance to check them out

the paint job on her cycle is based on a bunch of doodles she does on her notes

part of her schools wrestling team-she doesn’t go to any meets but she gets really antsy to do Secret Ninja Force work during school so practices and classes help her let off some steam

Also helps her with some anger issues-she will kinda freak out if she gets a bad grade or if she’s just having a tough day

Samurai X was a concept she came up with before the Secret Ninja Force was a thing-she saw how much destruction there was in the city before Garmadon and wanted to help, but never went through with it because she was immediately recruited for the SNF-she still has the suit’s concept designs stuffed in one of her notebooks

Also doesn’t believe in folders she just shoves everything in her bag

Pixal

The closest to Zane, Nya, kinda friends with Kai, and just buddies with the others through association

She’s still a robot, but unlike Zane she’s not programmed to adapt to her surroundings-she sees how Zane tries so he helps her act more human

She’s a bit more selective in what clubs and groups she joins (she takes computer science classes, whatever their schools equivalent of Voices of Women is, set crew for the theater program, and student council) so she takes on her personality a bit quicker than him

She still loves constructing things, but the robotics team makes her feel icky, so she went on to help making sets for the school plays and musicals instead

Also does a lot of the planning for school events (pep rallies, dances, etc)

it’s through her clubs that she met Nya and they quickly became close-she’s the only one Nya showed her Samurai X concepts to.

Well loved by the faculty (her father Cyrus Borg donated new equipment to the school)

She'd definitely be more popular if she didn’t associate herself with the Secret Ninja force, who are just generally disliked for their association with Lloyd.

in the story she’d probably take on a similar role that Nya did as Samurai X-someone who was seen as an enemy trying to one up them

Probably keeps her identity a secret though she does reveal it eventually

First reveals it to Nya since Samurai X was her idea in the first place

This also probably happens after the events of the movie-she figures the city still needs a vigilante type hero since i’m pretty sure the ninja ended up revealing their secret identities (or at least Lloyd did i thought)

Morro

Notices the favoritism towards Lloyd and hates it especially since he’s pretty similar to him (not putting his best effort in class, skips a lot, etc)

Also generally disliked by most teachers-he used to be a really model, well behaved students, but after a rough patch in his personal life he was held back a grade and since then has been generally been disrespectful to most of the teachers and just misbehaves overall

This “rough patch” was that Wu tried to start the Secret Ninja Force with Morro first, and insisted that he find his “Team” Morro was unable to find people he could work well with but insisted he could do everything himself-Wu immediately stopped his training and broke contact with him.

Tries to take similar classes to Lloyd-he knows Lloyd is Wu’s nephew and hopes that having similar interests will get him back on Wu’s good side

He’s generally antagonistic by trying to find out the identity of the Secret Ninja Force to get his revenge-he eventually becomes somewhat of an ally and stops tho

Keeps up his “training” through sports (rn i’ll say he does cross country in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and maybe tennis or baseball in the spring?)

A lot of his focus being on the Secret Ninja Force does contribute a lot to his not doing very well in school BUT he was able to make a Ninja Force Fan Club that helps him with his detective work tho)

part of the school orchestra (include “plays a wind instrument” joke here)

now for some OC stuff (saved them for last in case people just wanted to skip <3)

For the following four OCs (mae, rayna, cedar, and wren) they’re a part of a separate vigilante group-i don’t have a name for them yet but think of them as damage control, they make sure the ninja don’t cause too much destruction with their huge mechs, clean up after them, and tend to the civilians, leading them to safety and getting them any medical attention they need

They know each others identity but don’t know the identity of the ninja (and vice versa)

Led by Ms. Yasu-she’s Wu’s sister (they don’t know that) and she works undercover as a history teacher in their school

Their group was formed over the summer before their sophomore year started

Mae (EM of Spring)

Went to the same grade school as Kai and Nya-he lost contact with them when they went to different middle school but he reconnected with them in high school

On good terms with Nya (he checks up on her from time to time, making sure she’s still doing alright in school, keeping her grades up, getting enough rest, etc) but a bit awkward around Kai (he has a crush on him and they have a lil love square thing where they’re really into each other as ninja, but aren’t too close as civilians since they don’t talk much)

Besides the people on his team and Nya and kinda Kai, he doesn’t really talk to anyone else-he’s a bit of a workaholic and doesn’t do much outside of studying and training

Even before becoming a hero he was very much a quiet kid, keeping mostly to himself and not bothering to go to any of the social events the school held freshman year

Did start up gardening club and school though-helped set up a local garden where they plant veggies

Works part time at a pet shop-mainly deals the creepy crawly type pets

His dad was like the football mvp at the school-mae picked up a football and almost gave himself a concussion so he hasn’t touched any sports since

his dad was also known as a bit of heartbreaker-mae has one crush and doesn’t know how to tell him other than being kinda mean to him and hoping he gets it

Constantly reminding his teammates to sleep cause for some reason they’d like to do anything but

Probably does the best at balancing his school and hero work without over exerting himself

has the most medical knowledge on the team so he’s the best at giving basic treatment whenever they’re saving people

Rayna (EM of Spring)

Former mean girl-she gets better her sophomore year tho(she’s still a bit snobby tho)

Also arguably the most popular, but once she became a bit of a hero she cut contact with most of them-it quickly became difficult to keep her secret identity

can’t comprehend the idea of pants-always wears dresses or skirts to school

Does water polo in the spring, wrestling in the winter, and volleyball in the fall

Would be an amazing athlete if she weren’t missing practices and meets all the time

Outside of her team, she became friends with Morro-he’s part of the orchestra for the school musicals and she’s a part of of the theater makeup and costume crew so they ran into each other a few times and slowly became friends

Became friends with Cole afterwards when she would sneak into Morro’s music class (him and Cole have music the same period)

Cole convinced her to join club vinyl. Besides that she’s also a part of the fashion club.

Cole and Rayna are better friends as heroes tho-he made her a playlist and she actually likes the music on it, so when he hears her listening to soft rock music he just assumes she gained a better music taste overnight

Uses waaaaayyyyy too much caffeine (she won’t drink coffee, she mainly does celsius type drinks) to get through her day-she also does a lot of physical work leaving her sore, so she always carries tylenol and ibuprofen.

Team tank-she’s physically the strongest so she protects the people while leading them to safety in case any of Garmadon’s goons try to get them

Wren was her hallways crush before they were on a team together-tries a little bit too hard to impress her both in school and as a hero

Cedar (EM of Autumn)

Literally in every single club at school (their favorite is book club tho)

Will never bother to get an exec board position in any of these clubs tho

Has 0 free periods-they like to keep busy so they took up a bunch of electives so their schedule is crazy packed

Also works at the public library part time outside of school-whenever their friends need something for a school project they always go to them cause they know the best books for school

Their house is the designated hang out spot for their team (their mom is always out of state for work stuff)

Best dressed-very much a thrifter and modifies clothes to fit their style (also uses this to make gifts for their friends-clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc)

Met Jay through their computer science classes-they’ve always wanted to learn computer science but had a hard time starting out, but Jay was a great help to them

In turn, they helped Jay with their photography skills (how to take banger photos with his old af iphone)

Met Kiran through art classes-they were the only two who took the class seriously so they became friends as they would share tips and constructive criticism with each other

Don’t talk a lot though-they just feel comfortable in each other’s company

Takes the clean up crew bit of their job very seriously-they’re the one that works on clearing rubble to allow for clear ways out, and making sure that the buildings don’t completely collapse

Very grateful for becoming a hero and being a part of this team-they had no real idea of what they want to do in life. They know they want to explore the world but that takes money, and they don’t really have a strict passion where they’d want to work the same job for the rest of their life

Wren (EM of Winter)

Time management goddess

Takes a bunch of honors and ap classes, and is also a part of student council, diversity club, chess team, scholastic bowl, national honors society, tutoring, and the school yearbook

(she doesn’t want to do half of these tho-her mom made her join them)

very strict with her timing-doesn’t have a lot of time so she doesn’t get much time to hang out with her team outside of missions

Is very worried cause she’s held to very high expectations-not that she’ll let anyone know that

Her friend Volkan has very muched noticed this-he’s been advocating for her to drop some classes, drop some of her clubs, but she is very stubborn and wil!! not!! listen!!

Speaking of Volkan they met in the nurses office-he faked being sick to miss class, and she passed out cause she missed lunch to work on a project-since then they only hang out during lunch cause he says she has to make sure she eats, and she walks him to class cause she needs to make sure he’s actually learning something

Outside of her team though, she hangs out with zane a lot-she met him through Pixal as they’re on student council together, and then recognized him as they end up taking a lot of classes together.

Did becoming a hero take up the only free time she had left??

perchance

becoming a part of this team helped her get closer to Rayna though, who helped her learn the only self care tactic she knows-dressing up cute everyday so she can at least feel good about how she looks (its also v gender affirming for her)

team strategist-she knows where everyone should be at all times to keep the minimal amount of destruction and most people safe

Kiran (EM of Dust)

Very much a large advocate for mental health at her school during her second semester junior year-she was a perfectionist but realized how much that messed with her so she quit it and tries to help other kids break from the idea they should just seek validation from their grades

Through this work that she met Volkan-they’re not dating BUT they have been each other’s date for school dances since (though they insist they’re just going as friends)

Helped start up a yoga class at school-she found some teachers that would be interested and though it would be a nice way for kids to stay active while also learning how to calm their mind

Found a bunch of other ways to creatively express themselves with the help of Cedar (she picked up jewelry making because of them)

Also LOVES swimming-spends a lot of time at the beach

Takes painting classes at school but she does it a bunch outside of school-she finds it very therapeutic and it's a good way for her to express her emotions

Knew Jay from middle school-they were semi academic rivals and that beef semi carried into high school (she also just finds him painfully annoying and watching him function gives her second hand embarrassment)

Her opinions on the Secret Ninja Force are pretty negative-she gets that what they’re doing is good cause they’re keeping the city safe from Garmadon, but she thinks they cause way too much destruction (building rubble may or may have not blocked her way out from the beach a few times) so she’s glad that the clean up crew exists :)

Volkan (EM of Magma)

Go with the flow kinda guy-he does what he wants when he wants

This does make him a bad student on paper but he is pretty smart-he just doesn’t put in the effort if the subject doesn’t interest him

probably just plays games on his phone or tablet all day tbh

Also most def a gym bro (but those ones that perfected the art of making healthy food that tastes good-he likes to cook <3)

Plans a lot of the after school hang outs with Kiran-he might skip the last period or two so he can figure out a nice place for them to hang out and study in case she has any work to do

Knows those really underground spots in the city

Besides Kiran he’s close with Wren-he hangs out with her at lunch and will tag along with her to any of her club meetings in case she needs company

Very much unnerved by Zane-he’s just so stiff and rigid that it makes Volkan very uncomfortable

It wouldn’t really matter since they take very different classes, but teachers have been setting Zane up as Volkan’s tutor and they straight up drag him to meetings and sometimes monitor them-Volkan hates this

His opinion on the Secret Ninja Force is also really negative-his mom is still semi traumatized by one of Garmadon’s attacks and in his mind the ninja haven’t done anything to help, so he’s witnessed the destruction they can cause first hand

thinking about how The Lego Ninjago Movie gave us the high school setting and vigilante set up and did NOTHING with it

What electives do they take? What clubs are they in? Can they even be in clubs or does Wu forbid it cause it gets in the way of their Secret Ninja force?? Have they made plans for after high school??? I NEEDED CUTE HIGH SCHOOL SHENANIGANS!!!

if u giveeeeeee me a minute i will return with some hcs!! (for canon characters and my ocs cause im weak for my ocs <3)

[daisyneptune]

Here Comes the Sun ☀️(finally)!! I’m back and finally done with finals! So sorry for the long wait! It’s a great feeling knowing I don’t have to stress over an essay or an exam at least for the winter break. Do you ever get stressed out by college? I get stressed out so bad. At least I have music to make me feel better.

So how have you been doing? Still finishing up finals or are you done too? Either way I hope you are doing well!

I saw a poll on Tumblr and wanted to ask you this question. Do you often go listen to music live? I have on rare occasions. I saw a concert for Danny Elfman’s music from Tim Burton movies and Danny Elfman’s old band Oingo Boingo (I saw them at The Rose in Los Angeles. They did good justice I think). I’ve seen a couple of other live performances too. My dad and later my brother worked at a theater where plays are shown. They would help me get in and watch shows. I’ve seen Annie, War Horse, Cinderella, Gentlemen’s Guide to Love and Murder, and Something Rotten. Are you into musicals? I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea but I want to know your opinion anyways. I like talking about music with you. I once auditioned for Little Shop of Horrors musical in high school lol. I didn’t get picked but it took courage to get up on that stage.

How are you enjoying Christmas this year? Do you like Christmas music and movies? Also what do you think of Paul McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime song that people seem to hate lol? I liked it even before I knew who he was. What other classic rock figures have made Christmas music?… I know Ringo did and The Kinks have a song called Father Christmas. I think the Beach Boys did too. That’s all I can recall right now. I like the oldie Christmas music and even the religious ones even though I’m not religious. I’ve been so busy I haven’t even decorated my tree!

Bye for now! Again sorry for going quiet for a long time! The sun is here to stay now! ☀️

Hi hi sunny Santa! It's been a while since you sent this ask, I'm sorry to just be getting to it now ... I've been sick the past week and sending/answering asks is a lot easier for me on a laptop or desktop instead of mobile.

I don't see many live music shows now, but when I was in Japan I went to a lot of concerts because it was easy to get between cities (the train system is one of the things I miss the most about living there). As far as musicals, I don't go to see them often, but my favorite one is Chicago. It came to our town earlier this year and my mom and I went to see it. Since I'd only seen the film version, it was nice to finally see what it's like on stage. I hope I can do the same for Cabaret sometime.

I auditioned for a few plays in high school! The only one I got into was The Wizard of Oz, and I was a munchkin. That was it for my theater career.

Being sick has kind of killed my Christmas spirit this year. I was going to do so much baking and present-wrapping over the past week! :c But I'm still trying to have a good time. I'll be going to see my parents on Christmas morning for sure now that I'm feeling better.

I love Wonderful Christmastime! It's nowhere near the "worst holiday song ever".

Don't ever apologize for being long to send asks, as I was pretty long to reply myself!

[casicroaks]

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 11

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW YORK, 1977

Most auditions took place in either small, off-Broadway theaters, or in little offices in apartment buildings. This one I took at a dance studio. Apart from the usual producers who’d conduct the interview, I had a crowd of Tiffanys around me, turning to watch me when I watched them, calling my attention each time I felt too awkward to stare right into the eyes of either one of the two men. I wondered if it had been intentional. Having an actress forced to be interviewed for ten minutes in a room full of mirrors meant she had to be particularly comfortable with feeling self-conscious.

“Remind us what your name is, dear.”

“I’m… My name’s Valerie. Valerie Day,” I stammered. Bad start. I shouldn’t falter. Shouldn’t doubt.

They checked the name written on the application. For a moment I panicked, unsure of what name I had signed with. “Please, take a seat.”

I did. I was careful my skirt didn’t hike up my thighs too much.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” one of them said.

“Not at all,” I smiled, wondering if I should cross my legs instead.

“Have you ever been in a film or on TV?”

“I haven’t, though I’ve had several offers.”

One of the men, the one in a grey jacket, stared at me in a way I didn’t like. Even without looking at him I could feel his eyes on me.

“Do you belong to any agency?”

“No, but I am friends with someone in the show business who looks after me personally.” ‘Friends’ was all they needed to know. “He found an agent for me.”

By that point I already had an audition uniform. They say you gotta dress for the job you want, so I dressed as neutral as I could, so every producer could see whoever they wanted to see in me. A plain white t-shirt, barely a bit of mascara and some blush. As clean a slate as possible.

“Is this work you do at your friend’s bar your main source of income?”

I fidgeted on my seat. “Yes.”

“You find that income to be enough?”

“I can cope, if I’m not extravagant.”

“Don’t you want to live fancy?”

“I mean, I don’t want to be poor…” I replied with a quirk of my eyebrows. “But I’m happy if I can afford to go to the movies.”

“Hm,” The man in the grey jacket wrote something in his notebook. I wringed my hands. “So, why do you want to be an actress? If not for the money, is it a matter of fame?”

What a stupid question. Who didn’t want to be famous? But that would sound too conceited.

“I want to have something to motivate me,” I said, raising my chin. “I want to have a purpose.”

“Do you currently feel like you have no purpose?”

I pushed my shoulders back. “I just want something more out of life.”

The two producers exchanged a look. “Alright. Let’s see what you got, Miss Day.”

I acted the lines I was given to memorize, which I had managed to fully memorize this time. I knew my memory wasn’t the best. And, admittedly, nobody I knew ever wanted to help me rehearse: the girls at the Playhouse were always too distracted with their own little dramas to pay attention to the script, Jamie and Colin and Ernie always laughed at me each time I told them about my dreams of stardom, and Cesar… Well, he had read with me once or twice, sucking on his cigar, lying on the bed with the pages folded in his hand. But with how little we saw each other now, I didn’t want to waste a single second of our time together by rehearsing silly lines.

The two men thanked me, and I left the room. I told myself I had a good feeling about this one. I told myself the same thing after every audition, even when I knew perfectly well that there was no chance I was gonna be called back.

I waited for the elevator, tapping my heel, trying not to chew on my bottom lip and get makeup on my teeth. The damn thing took a lifetime to get to that floor.

“Ah, Miss Day. Thought you’d have left already.”

I looked over my shoulder. The man in the grey suit jacket gave me a little smile. I smiled back at him. He adjusted a folder full of scattered papers under his arm. I could see my own little face in a black-and-white square, peering under a pink document. They hadn’t thrown away my application yet, which I guessed was a good sign.

“What are the odds this is my big break?” I asked the man, with a half-grin and a cock of the head, a little gesture I had practiced for another audition I had couple weeks ago.

The man chuckled. “You weren’t the worst we had today, don’t worry.”

I chuckled, too. With a little ding!, the elevator finally arrived, and we went in. I could see him still staring at me, out the corner of my eye.

“And you’re definitely not the worst-looking one we had today, either.”

“Thank you.”

His free hand slipped out the pocket of his pants. I glanced down at it, took a deep breath, and went back to facing straight ahead. Then I felt his hand close, too close –setting on the back of my waist –and going down, feeling me up.

My first thought, barely repressed before it became an impulse, was to pull out my switchblade and tell him to back the fuck off. I wasn’t really confident I had nailed this audition, so I didn’t have much to lose –that is, unless he decided to rat me off and make sure no other casting director in the city would even have me. I had heard from other girls, while retouching our makeup and waiting for our shift to start, who knew other actresses who had that happen to them. Maybe that was what made me stop myself before I could really give in to that first gut reaction.

But more than that I knew that, if I took the switchblade out my bag, I might not be satisfied with just giving him a scare. It was never enough. This was New York, for God’s sake, it wouldn’t be the first time someone threatened him with a knife. I might just be a bit too brash, too eager to go one step beyond, and sink the blade into his chest. Then, I might stab him a few times more, since I had already started. Maybe I’d stab him enough times that there would be no way for him to get out of that elevator alive, and maybe then he’d think again before groping a girl without her permission. Maybe I could kill him, and rid the world of another fucking asshole, and in the meantime also find a way to scratch that four-year-itch.

I did nothing. I just stood still, gritting my teeth, waiting till the elevator reached the ground floor. Once it did, I hurried to get out, with one hand grasping the handle of the switchblade inside my bag, the other digging my nails on my palm.

I lit a cigarette as soon as I got out onto the street. I knew I should have been proud of myself, for reigning it in, for being in control –but God, what I knew was different from what I felt, and I felt like shit, furious at myself, knowing I should have done something . If I was lucky, me not doing anything would end up with a further consideration for the role, which was, admittedly, a shit bit part I wouldn’t miss terribly if I didn’t get. Not that I had any real hopes the man in the grey suit jacket would think well enough of me to really pick me just based on me staying still while getting groped. If men were that easy, I would be swimming in tips from the clients at the Playhouse.

Duane, my manager, finally decided to show up, running his fingers through his stupid perm. Most of the time he just dropped me off and fucked off, but every once in a while he’d pretend to care and stay around for a bit longer. Of course, that was if the audition went by quick enough. Cesar had hired him to help make me a star, but I had the suspicion Duane either wasn’t paid enough to make more than the minimum effort, or that he was paid just enough for him to want to keep his job for as long as he could.

“Did you dazzle their socks off, princess?”

“There you are,” I said, turning around to face him. “How come there’s nothing yet?”

“It’s a tough market. Everyone wants to be the next big thing.”

“But it’s been a year already –and I only had two shitty background ad roles!”

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with, shall we?” he said, counting with his fingers. “You can’t sing, can’t dance, you can barely remember your lines, you have a bad disposition, you don’t play along—”

I had ‘played along’ just fine, back then in the elevator. But I knew that if I complained about it, Duane would just laugh and say I was being bitchy.

“Oh, so a ‘bad disposition’, huh?” I said instead. “This is the fourth audition I went to, just this week!”

“Well,” he sighed. “That’s just showbiz, baby.”

We walked a couple more blocks, towards where he had managed to park his Ford Pinto. After a couple steps he finally stopped right on his heels, and stopped me as well, pulling my arm. I huffed and yanked my arm away. Why couldn’t people just keep their damn hands to themselves?

“Alright. I’m gonna be brutally honest with you, more honest than I could ever be with Cesar,” he told me. “So brace yourself.”

I took another drag of my cigarette, looking away. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t gonna be good.

“Listen, Vicky—”

“Val—”

“Yeah, yeah, Val. I thought you’d be a bit sharper, smarter. Now,” He put his hands on my shoulders, and gave them a squeeze. “Do you really, really, really believe you have true untapped potential?”

“… Yes,” I said, closing my hands into fists, nodding furiously. “Yes, yes, of course I do.”

“Well, you’re living in dreamland,” he said, leaning forward. I could smell the tuna melt he had for lunch. “You gotta be realistic, keep your expectations reasonably low. Nobody here hires chicks like you. You don’t… You just don’t have it –that star quality.”

“I can reinvent myself,” I said quickly. “I can do anything I need to—”

“If there’s something that was made abundantly clear, princess, it’s that you don’t have the cunning nor the instinct,” Duane said in a weary tone. If he was tired of this old routine, he could imagine how I was feeling. “You got a pretty enough face, good enough to charm the boss. That might get you a bit part in some ABC sitcom.”

I scoffed.

“But come down from any fantasies you might have of a stage break. You’re not gonna get any casting calls of that type any time soon.”

“Isn’t that what Cesar pays you to do?” I exclaimed. “To get me something?”

“I’m not a damn miracle worker.”

Excuses, that was all Duane gave me, excuses and bit parts for roles that I just couldn’t get into, no matter how many times I read the lines to myself, no matter how much I practiced my smile and my tears in front of the little mirror at the shared bathroom. I should just tell Cesar to fire him and get me someone new.

“Besides –come on, Val. Look at you,” he insisted, gesturing at me. “Never the right brands… You look like ragged JCPenney on a good day. If it weren’t for the trashy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks look you manage to pull, nobody would give you the time of day.”

“ Trashy ?” I almost yelled. Worst thing was, I knew he was kinda right. And, normally, I wouldn’t even care. I liked how I dressed. Just because I didn’t look like he wanted me to…

If only I could wear the expensive clothes Cesar gifted me. But I couldn’t risk it. I had to protect their resale value.

“… God –Val!”

“I’m sorry…!” I mumbled, pulling myself away from him. “I’m sorry… I thought you might like that—”

“ Like that!?”

Cesar rolled off me and sat on the edge of his bed, examining his neck on the many mirrors surrounding us. I looked away, at my own reflection, and quieted my breathing. His place was always so quiet. Even up there, though, in his penthouse, overlooking the city, I could hear the sirens.

“Jesus…”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Did your last boyfriend like to be bitten?” he asked, touching the barely-there dent left by my teeth with the tip of his fingers. “Or was that right now just you feeling adventurous?”

I looked down, running my hands over the slippery white sheets. I didn’t do much when I was with Heath; I barely had to do anything, really, besides stay more or less still under him while he did his business.

“It’s going to leave a bruise…”

Put off by my little love bite, he pulled off his condom and got up on his feet. I looked down at the sheets wrapped around my leg. We had been dating for a long while now, but sometimes old shames resurfaced. For starters, I didn’t know what a condom was until Cesar and I had sex for the second time and he brought it up. He was absolutely scandalized by this, even calling me a couple pretty nasty things. I just didn’t know what to say. Guess I was lucky I never caught anything with Heath, all things considered. Cesar was always very concerned with cleanliness.

“What on Earth has come over you, Val?” he asked quietly, with his back to me, as he hopped into his boxers.

I laid on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling. “Come on, it wasn’t that hard… I just thought I’d like to try something different for once.”

“I didn’t know you liked that…” He ran his hand through his hair, flattening it down. His mouth shifted as if he was tasting something nasty but couldn’t quite spit it out. “… That kind of stuff.”

I just smiled and shrugged. “If you met me more often, you’d know that.”

“My dear, you know I’m busy—”

“You always say that…!”

“I’m just swamped. My head’s full with work, meetings, phone calls… I’ve two meetings before lunch. And lunch, I got with three business partners.”

I sighed, and rolled on the bed till I was down on my chest, resting my chin on my hands. “What about dinner?”

“Dinner…” He considered it for a moment. “I promised my mother I’ll be having dinner with her.”

“You could introduce her to me,” I said brightly, lilting my voice, taking care not to slip back into my real tone. “I’d love to meet her.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“What, are you ashamed of me, or something?” I joked before I could stop myself. “You think she wouldn’t like me?”

He didn’t answer. I frowned.

“So… Does that really mean we won’t be having dinner together tonight, either?” I pouted, changing the subject. “You owe me big time, sweetface. You got to take me out soon, or else I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Cesar smiled and looked away. He just didn’t take me seriously. But he loved me, I was sure of it. He spoiled me, respected me, and, every once in a while, took me out for dinner and dancing. He made love to me. He knew everyone worth knowing in New York. He was nice. He was tall. He was clean. We looked good together. But he had to know that something was wrong, something was missing. He had to feel it. If he didn’t, then he was even more selfish than I had thought.

I climbed off the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom to fix myself a bath. Didn’t seem like we were gonna do much of anything that night anyway.

“… I talked to Duane yesterday,” Cesar said.

I almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the burbling water. I just kept turning my fingers under the stream, waiting till it warmed up.

“You’re not going to auditions anymore.”

“What?”

I whipped my head around to see him standing behind me by the open door.

“I said—”

“Yes, I heard you,” I said with a frown. “But what do you mean?”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Val. I’m making a whole investment to get you what you asked for me, but you’re treating it like a silly whim. You know, I don’t think you actually want to put in the work, to be an actress… I think you just want attention.”

“I do take it seriously. It’s what I want to do with my life… It’s all I really want to do,” I said, as honestly as I could manage to sound. “I mean, I’m not planning to stay a waitress for the rest of my damn life!”

“It seems like that’s the way you’re headed, by the way things are going,” Cesar said. “Unless you actually make an effort, Val, you’re not going to get anywhere.”

I glared at him, waiting for him to tell me he was just joking. He just kept staring down at the now-full bathtub. As if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

With a sigh, I dove into the water. I dipped my head in for a moment, let it warm me up, and then I came out again, opening my mouth wide to take a deep breath, eyes still closed, and I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering if I looked good while doing so. Then I remembered I had a full face of makeup, and I hurried to wipe the probably dripping mascara off from under my eyes. I stared back at him, waiting to see my clownish look reflected in his face. Cesar just stared right back through me, with the same empty expression.

“… At least you’re honest,” I said, trying to joke again. “Even though it’s to the point of being hurtful.”

At least there was that. I had heard some horror stories from my coworkers at the Playhouse, stories about cheating boyfriends and shotgun marriages, all things I thought just happened to other people. And I tried so hard not to be jealous. But it was hard to, admittedly, when I was spending so much time away from my boyfriend, the busy businessman, the important, admired, popular man. It took a lot of practice, to trust him as much as I trusted him.

“Did you ever have any faith in me?”

He scoffed, looking away from me.

“You’re not willing to start from the bottom,” he replied. “Even though it would really do you some good to be humbled.”

“Maxine didn’t have to start from the bottom,” I argued.

“That’s because Maxine’s friends with a big producer.”

“And aren’t you friends with big producers?” I insisted. “Can’t they do you a favor?”

“I’m not going to waste all my favors with my friends to advance your career, Val,” he said, in that particular tone of voice he used when explaining stuff to me. At first it hadn’t annoyed me too much; he was older than me, and it figured that he knew some stuff I didn’t. As time passed, it became less of a cute quirk and more like demeaning bullshit. Like calling me ‘kid’. Like I was dumb or something. “You know, you can’t expect others to simply hand stuff down to you. You got to make something out for yourself.”

“The whole thing’s rigged, Cesar! I can’t possibly be the worst actress they’ve had,” I cried. “You seen what passes for acting on TV? The sort of actresses that get their big break?”

“Don’t blame others for your own inadequacy,” he said tiredly. “It is extremely immature.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned around and went back into the bedroom, and took a cigar from his dresser. I stared at him, waiting for him to offer me one. He didn’t. I huffed and picked a cigarette from a little silver box he had in the drawer of a phone table beside the tub.

“Well, I might just start showing more skin, then,” I shrugged, tapping the cigarette on the porcelain edge. “Bet that’ll help me get some good parts.”

Cesar snorted. “Yes, go ahead and sleep with a casting director, to make sure to seal the deal.”

I shot him a glare. “You pig,” I cried. “I’d never do that!”

“I thought you said you do take this seriously.”

“Well, I—"

I blinked, unsure of what he wanted me to say to that. Framed by the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, his dark silhouette against the brass lamps, Cesar lit his cigar. He was just being dramatic. He had to know how important this was to me. Besides, I bet he would have loved for me to be just as glamorous as his friends. Why wouldn’t he want me to become big and famous? Wouldn’t he rather have a star for a girlfriend, instead of a nobody?

My cigarette dangled from between my fingers. He clicked the lighter back off, and blew a cloud of smoke. I closed my hand, swallowing a curse.

“Whatever. I don’t care what you think,” I shrugged as I reached for the smaller plastic lighter I had left there in the drawer during my last bath. “I’m gonna be a star. You know why?”

Still shadowed, Cesar glanced at me, evidently not very interested in what I was saying. I grit my teeth as I lit the cigarette myself.

“I can be anything I want,” I said, and took a drag, and for a moment there I really believed it. “And I have nothing left to lose.”

His lips twitched in a half-hearted smile. Bringing the cigar to his mouth, he came back to the bathroom, crouched down beside the inground tub, and he dipped his hand in. The warm water swirled around my ankles. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning my head back, waiting for a kiss. When I opened them again, Cesar was standing up and leaving the bathroom. It seemed he just couldn’t make up his mind.

“Where are you going now?”

“I’m still thinking about this offer… I’m going to head out.”

“Now? But I’m still here…!”

Cesar glanced at me over his shoulder. “You can see yourself out.”

“Wait—!”

He stopped, turned back to face me, and sighed. I bit my lip. All this time I had been waiting for him to bring it up, but it seemed like he had forgotten, too. That, or he was just too distracted at the moment by that damn business offer to really focus on me.

“Our anniversary’s coming up,” I said gently. “In about a month or so. Remember?”

Cesar thought for a moment. “Yes… Yes, I remember.”

“So, I was thinking, we could do something fun together,” I continued, trying to smile. “We could have dinner, for example… Without your mother –obviously.”

He said nothing for a while, but gave me an actual smile. It was better than nothing. “... Yes, that would be nice.”

“Would you take care of it?”

“Take care of dinner? I always do—”

“I mean, make a reservation somewhere fancy… Somewhere fit for an anniversary,” I insisted. “Somewhere romantic.”

“A dinner reservation.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “For Saturday. You think you can make it?”

“Saturday night?”

“Yes, Cesar, yes,” I repeated, rolling the cigarette up and down my fingers. “Please, sweetface… You know how important this is to me. I’m feeling so lonely as of late.”

Finally, he looked at me with something close enough to shame. He had to remember how awful I had felt when he had forgotten about my birthday. I had made enough of a hassle for him to remember it the rest of his life.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I frowned. What did he even mean by that? He was Cesar Romero –co-owner of the Playhouse, one if not the most exclusive nightclub in Manhattan –one of the main investors of a chain of restaurants I didn’t remember the name of –close friends with all sorts of Broadway royalty. What couldn’t he do? Any eatery in town would be groveling for him to patronize them.

“Look, Cesar, darling, if you’re not gonna even try, then I’ll take care of it and just make the damn reservation,” I finally said. “So don’t complain later if the place’s not up to par to your particular tastes.”

He disappeared behind the doorframe. One of the mirror doors beside his bed squeaked as he slid it open.

“Are you listening to me?”

No answer. My blood was boiling. I was about to scream his name, but I thought of something else, something I had been wanting to ask him for a while now. And it would do me good to rip off the band-aid right then, before the wound festered.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

This finally called his attention. He came back to the bathroom, now wearing an apple-green shirt. “Someone else?”

“Yes. Like, are you fucking someone else?”

Cesar just stood still, and stared at me as if I had slapped him across the face.

“For God’s sake, you once said I can be direct and say what I want,” I cried. “So, are you seeing someone else or not?”

“Of course I’m not!”

“Alright,” I smiled, and chuckled out of sheer relief. “Then it’s alright.”

He didn’t laugh. “It is very reassuring to see just how much you trust me,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be this insecure, Val.”

I was losing him. I reached for his hand. He stepped back. He didn’t even let me touch him.

“Come here,” I said, forcing a smile. “Soak up with me.”

“No.”

“Come on…”

“And ruin my shirt?”

“So what? You got more shirts.”

“No, Val—”

“The water’s so nice—”

“I said no!”

I recoiled. Not out of fear, but out of sheer surprise. Smoking my cigarette, sinking back til I was almost touching the water with my chin, I wondered if I might have been pushing it a bit too far. Being too annoying, too insistent. My coworkers said it was quite the turnoff.

Cesar sighed, and finally got closer, close enough for me to finally see him clearly beyond the bathroom haze. “All I want, darling, is to relax after a hard day’s work… And all you want is attention, and noise, and thrills, and—”

“I thought you liked that about me,” I pouted. “My… My liveliness, or whatever. I thought you said I made you feel alive.”

“I guess there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.”

Yes, I knew that, I knew that very well. I could easily remember my mother telling me the same, when I wanted one more cookie before bed, when I wanted five more minutes of cartoons, when I wanted to stay a little longer soaking in the bathwater.

He leaned forward, stroked my cheek, and finally kissed the top of my head. I held his hand tight, keeping him close by for just a moment longer.

“You love me… Right?”

Cesar sighed. “I do. Of course I do. But this is exactly what I mean with you being so needy, Val.”

Having said that, he pulled away from me. He left the bathroom and disappeared once more in the dimness of the bedroom. I remained still, listening carefully. His footsteps went beyond, muffled on the carpeted floors, farther and farther through the hall and into the living room, where I finally lost them. I looked downwards, into the steaming water. From between my legs, a thin thread of blood floated up to the surface.

Fifth Avenue was always crowded, even during office hours. It was a hot, bright, sticky sunny day, and I wished I hadn’t spent my last dollar, so I could still have enough for an ice cream cone. The storefronts had their little awnings fully stretched, under which several people gathered to escape the scorching sunlight. I passed by walls covered in ads featuring the models and actresses I saw at work, Carole and Mimi and Leanne, posing seductively, dressed, if at all, in the latest fashions. If everything else failed, I might be able to become a model. I heard it has an easier entrance than acting –though I didn’t really believe it could be that rewarding. Standing still just to be photographed seemed rather boring; then again, people do really do anything for money.

After a few more blocks I reached the big expensive stores, the ones that always had very few customers. I had another bite of my pizza while I window-shopped, swaying from side to side, finding the perfect angle through which I could catch a good look at the goods on the other side of the glass, without the pesky reflection of the real world coming in between. There was one specific jewelry store I always liked to pass by, which had tiny displays, as if only daring to show a peek of what they could really offer. The diamond rings glittered like a mirror ball, like the sequin-covered dresses of the dancers that came with the night. I let out a deep sigh. I wondered what they felt like, once you slipped one in your finger. The ones I had always left me with ugly green stains.

Just a couple steps from it, perfectly aware of the mindset of those shopping for such things, there was a bridal store. Another one I spent probably too much time staring at and daydreaming of. I sucked the sauce and pizza grease off my fingers, gazing at the white-wrapped mannequins, arms outstretched, like they were about to be embraced by their grooms. There were only a few days before Cesar and I’s anniversary as a couple. He had forgotten my last birthday, which of course had really bothered me –but I was sure he would remember this one special date, the day and month in which we had first kissed, in which we had finally become a couple. We’d been dating steady for quite awhile now. And, beyond the weeks without so much as a little surprise in my locker, I was certain that he still loved me just as much as the first day. It was just that he was just a busy man, I told myself. Of course a rich successful man like him would be busy.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw a cop having turned around the corner, patrolling the street. He glanced back at me. I gave a couple steps, still with my eyes fixed on the bridal displays, so it didn’t seem like I was doing anything suspicious.

I knew that my mother had married pretty young, around the age I was right then. I would have given anything to marry like she did, I thought, to have my photo taken like she did, with her bright, never-to-be-seen-again smile, on the happiest day of her life. I wondered if Cesar had ever considered if, in the three years we had been together, we should get married. Maybe I could even invite my family: once they saw just what a good catch I had caught, they would be proud of me, happy for me. I was sure my mother would love him for me. And, of course, Cesar would cut a striking figure in a fancy tux, and he certainly had the money for a truly unforgettable reception.

Still annoyed by the stare of that cop, I chased a hopping pigeon and hurried to cross the street to the next store, and gazed at a display of elegant summer dresses, at the brightly-colored chiffon and silk, draped so beautifully over the shiny plastic of the mannequins. I thought of the silver dress Cesar had gifted me. Still no opportunity to wear it. Last time I had worn something as nice as those high-end gowns was when I had caved in, last Christmas, and I went along with him to the opera, the first and last time we had gone to a show together –and it went as well as it sounds. I had fallen asleep halfway through, and Cesar had been so mad at me.

I thought of all the bands I had the chance to see at the Bowery, those times the money I got from the resales would allow me a little extra cash by the end of the week. Along with the times I went to the movies, it was really there, among the crowd, where I felt the most free. Once, at one of these gigs, this singer ripped up a wedding dress on stage –and after my initial shock –it had felt like a revelation. It amazed me, how she looked like just another pretty face that would show up dangling from a suit’s arm at the Playhouse, but she still had this edge to her, a magnetism and an energy I couldn’t quite place. I wanted what she had. ‘ Star quality ’, I felt was a good way to put it. Duane said that you’re born with it or you’re not: that it was the difference between a protagonist and a side character. Me, I wasn’t so sure. All I knew is that it was the life I wanted. No waiting by the bleachers for life to happen to me –I’d take the bull by the horns, doing what I wanted to do, instead of what others wanted me to be. All I needed was that one chance.

It was a bummer that I went to these concerts on my own, though. I was so used to hanging around Heath and Jack, and now I felt so alone.

“Hey! You!” the cop shouted at me from the corner of the block, making me jump. “Yes, you! Stop loitering—!”

“I’m just hanging around!” I shouted back. “I’m not doing anything—!”

He started walking faster towards me. I gripped the switchblade handle inside my bag –but didn’t take it out –just ran off, trusting that he was just trying to shoo me away. Not the first time it happened to me, and probably not the last time, either. If the stores didn’t want people staring at their displays, they shouldn’t have made them so spellbindingly beautiful in the first place.

But I definitely needed to stop wasting time. Cesar and I’s anniversary would be coming soon, and I needed to start planning how we would celebrate the occasion.

The sky was already dark by the time I got back to the Broslin. I glared at the flickering red neon sign, as if that would magically fix it. That night I didn’t have my shift: they were doing some remodeling at the Playhouse, or something like that, so the clubbers of Manhattan would have to find somewhere else to go. Me, I didn’t have much choice.

“Mama’s back, girls,” I said, opening the door to my room.

Neatly set on top of the non-functioning radiator was my little doll collection, my few true friends and roommates: a Crissy doll, a Cher doll, a Rock Flower doll (without the record, obviously, since I didn’t have where to play it), a Pork’N’Beans doll, and a rather tatty Lazy Dazy. Five wasn’t half bad for a starting collection, even if none of them were particularly rare. What I wanted most was this gorgeous Samantha the Witch doll I had seen in an old Sears Christmas catalog, but I hadn’t had any luck yet, finding my holy grail. Still, I saved the cutout of the magazine on the wall next to my bed, keeping me hopeful.

I gave a deep sigh, sitting on the cot and unbuckling my shoes. Hope didn’t come easy. Twenty-two days had passed without seeing Cesar. One time he had answered my payphone calls, and promised me we would have dinner together that Friday night. Friday night came, and he wasn’t at his office, and his secretary told me he had an emergency to attend to. After that, radio silence. And I was getting sick and tired of having to worry both about seeming too detached and seeming too desperate. I hated that guilt –but I still had it, that feeling of guilt to want so much. To need so much. Boys never like that in a girlfriend, girls hate that in a friend.

Someone across the hall was playing music from a radio, loudly, loud enough for me to hear it as clearly as if it was playing in my own room. It was a common occurrence. Some months ago, I would have still tried to knock on the door and tell them to keep it down –but I knew better, now. Nothing would change if I complained. Not that I could really blame them. Personally, if someone complained to me, I’d probably turn the music even louder just to spite them.

Apart from the dolls I had a bunch of clothes thrown around, a few more or less folded, some hanging from a nail on the wall between the exposed wires. Most were all crumpled on the floor, my jean shorts and my band t-shirts and my two pairs of shoes and my five different belts. Along with them, some still bearing the marks of my shoe soles after accidentally stepping on them, was my collection of magazines, and a few sewing projects I had abandoned and knew I should finish but I never found the time to, and in a corner, a small pile of books I had picked up during my thrift shop trips. Little pulp romance novels, mostly, but also a Betty Crocker cookbook (the same edition that my mother would check with once in a while back at home), a dusty bible to press flowers in, and three or four cheap paperback spellbooks I consulted with every week or so.

I had attempted to cast almost all the love spells I had found in them –except for one. The latest purchase had a chant I hadn’t tried yet, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt to try. From inside my bag I took out my compact mirror, and from inside the compact I took out a little braid I had made, out of hair secretly plucked from Cesar’s hairbrush in the bathroom of his penthouse. He’d be so weirded out if he found out about it. I was aware of it. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Among a whole bunch of junk that had piled up from under my bed, I found what was left of a red candle I kept for my little spells. It had been so worn down there was only a couple inches for me to light up, to get a few seconds before the wick drowned in the melted wax. I needed to work quick. I opened the spellbook and went to the page I had dogeared. Once I read it to myself a couple times, like practicing the lines for an audition, getting the rhythm and the words just right, I finally lit the candle with my cigarette lighter, and could begin.

“ Let Cesar yearn for me, desire me. Let this love come forth from the spirit and enter him, ” I chanted, eyes tightly shut, and brought the braid of hair closer to the flame –until it caught on fire, and slowly burned through. “ Let him love me as he has loved nothing before. I love him, want him, and he must feel the same for me… Let him burn with love for me. ”

I repeated the chant two more times, until the braid had completely burned out and I was left with just a bunch of ashes on the tip of my fingers. Once that was done, I kept quiet, still, waiting. I don’t know why I always expected something to happen immediately –something I could notice, some shift in the universe.

Instead, I got nothing, not even a prickly feeling in my thumbs or a tingling down my spine. I huffed and threw myself on the lumpy mattress. I knew I should have lit the candle with an actual match, rather than my lighter.

Nights were for sleeping, or so my mother used to tell me. Not for me. Nights were for staying up and reorganizing your closet, or brushing your dolls’ hair, or brushing your own hair, or plucking little ingrown hairs in your eyebrows till you had to throw the tweezers out the window so you didn’t end up without any eyebrows at all. Usually, last year or so, I kept myself nice and still by fantasizing about the interviews I’d give, once I became a famous actress, the characters I’d play, the stunning gowns I’d wear for photographs. But lately those fantasies had been less and less defined. They all came with the little caveat of feeling like I was lying to myself, and not even in the fun way anymore.

I rolled off my side to lay flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. A big fat black spider crawled across it, over the growing crack that spread around the dangling lightbulb over my head. It was a warm summer night, and the world was awake and sweaty and restless. The arguing couple next door was arguing even louder. I rubbed my eyelids. Laying there on the bed, with a wall in between, they sounded just like my mom and dad. I wondered if, without me in the picture, they had managed to make up.

The yelling was joined by the usual breathing and moaning from the other room next to mine, the one belonging to the whore who worked night hours, just like me. Luck would have it that I was home to enjoy her and her client’s little concert. I groaned, covering my face with the pillow. And apart of the noise they made, and the arguing couple in the other building, with my ear now too tuned to the racket to be able to ignore it, I could also hear the crying of a baby somewhere in the neighborhood, and some drunkard shouting curses on the street, and the sirens in the distance, the sirens that never left…

I needed something to keep my mind off of it, or I would go mad.

I closed my eyes and, between all the noise, managed to focus on the panting. He was much louder than Cesar ever was, but it was good enough. I didn’t need much, really. With one hand I unbuttoned my skirt, with the other I fondled my chest under my t-shirt. I thought about his soft hands, his soft lips, his soft hair. But Cesar never did it like I did. I shut my eyes a bit tighter, hurrying a bit, now hearing a hand banging the other side of the wall behind my head. I didn’t give a shit about how he did it, what mattered was that it was done. I brought my knees closer, took in a deep breath, and shoved a couple fingers in. A little too soon. I had to focus, dammit. Otherwise, I would just end up frustrated and with nothing but dirty hands and bruises on the inside of my thighs.

“Come on...” 

I wished I had a mirror to see myself with, to know whether I looked needy and desperate or if I managed to still look good, barely opening my mouth, arching my back, sprawled all over the dirty little bed. I wondered if Cesar would have liked to watch me like this.

My mind began to shift away from Cesar and his white silk sheets, to travel back to the hall, echoing with the radio music. The broken pipe that the hotel never fixed. I could feel the rusty metal of the pipe scratching the palm of my hand, its weight tensing my arm –and I would kick down the door of the whore’s room –and impale the two of them, nailing them to the bed. They’d let out a quick scream –and then, they’d finally shut up for good. I’d make my way to the room of the guy with the radio, and I’d grab it and bash him with it over and over, till it cracked his head open like an egg, his shriveled rotting brain spilling out like runny yolk. And then, I’d return to my room, pick up my shoe, open my window and smash the flickering hotel sign enough times to fully break it, and it would fall onto the screeching drunkard on the street with a loud crash and squash him flat in a beautiful burst of sparks—

I opened my mouth and gasped. It was a little orgasm, nothing Earth-shattering, nothing to write home about. But it was something. It was better than nothing.

I raised my chin, puckering my lips, checking my lipstick was even. There were a couple little lumps under the layer of blush on my cheeks –a mole near my mouth and a few old pimple scars, mostly, that one could only notice if one was looking for them, I hoped. I turned my face to the side, examining my profile, the slope of my nose, my chin. I had cheekbones, but nowhere near as dramatic or impressive as Cesar’s, or as Sally’s. I quickly rubbed and wiped the blush off my cheeks with a tissue, to reapply it a little higher, to at least make up an illusion. Behind me, the other goody girls in the changing room were chatting among themselves, talking about their weekend plans, the last movie release, how their families were doing. I glanced at them through the mirror. Laurie was leafing through a Cosmo, Suzy was brushing out her hair, Nancy was adding some glitter to her eyelids, and Sally hadn’t arrived yet.

“Who’s finishing their shift early tonight?” Judy asked. “Please someone spare me from having to walk back home alone.”

“You heard about Son of Sam’s latest letter, too?”

“Can’t believe he’s still out ‘n about, and that the cops aren’t doing anything useful ‘bout it...”

“Me and all my girlfriends, we give each other a call, soon as we get back home, just so we know we’ve not kicked the bucket yet.”

“Grisly stuff...”

“Has a thing for brunettes, that psycho, or so I’ve read.”

“Good thing I’m a blonde, then!”

I chuckled and agreed in silence before looking back at myself in the mirror. If I lowered my chin and looked up, my eyes seemed bigger, and my cheeks didn’t appear as chubby. I pressed my lips together. Maybe I had gone a bit too far, maybe I looked a bit garish. It almost looked like back when I was a kid, in front of the bathroom mirror, when makeup was still this wild, exciting grown-up thing to explore and master.

‘Back when I was a kid’. As I was that old already.

“Hey, you’re a Cancer, right, Val?” Laurie asked me.

“No—”

“Oh, right –Scorpio…”

“No, I’m a Sagittarius!”

“Oh,” she said, and shot me a glance. “… Wouldn’t have guessed.”

I huffed, leaning back on my chair and adjusting the uniform’s halter top, making sure my tits looked good. Sally had told me that I should buy myself a push-up bra: they usually went a long way to get extra tips. “So? What does the future have in store for me?”

“ ‘Positive planets will shower you with blessings this week. You’ll be able to make difficult decisions that will pay off in the long run,’ ” she read out loud. “ ‘However, your planets will be negative during the last few days of the week. You’ll become disengaged from your responsibilities. You won ‘ t be able to appreciate your work either. The good news is that powerful forces are working behind the scenes to help you achieve great accomplishments.’ ”

“What does that mean?”

“It means everything that goes up must come back down again.”

“You don’t need a cheap magazine to tell me that,” Suzy said, brushing her hair.

Laurie went on reading the Cancer horoscope. I kept pulling at my own hair, wondering what it would take for it to look better, less shaggy, a little more put-together. I knew someone in there had a pair of scissors. I was so fed up with my look, I thought I might just start chopping.

“What would be a good anniversary gift?” I asked out loud. It was ugly to realize that I didn’t know Cesar well enough to know what he’d like.

Among other options I was considering, I thought of doing a reworking of that one time I had tried to shoplift lingerie from the mall, back at Hackensack, for Heath. This time I’d actually pay for it. That would be a nice enough gift –me, doing my best to put a smile on his face, looking prettier than ever. Still, as much as I would like for him to show me off, it felt appropriate to also get him something that could be actually useful.

“Do guys like wristwatches?” I insisted, even louder, trying to call the other good girls’ attention. “I know where I could get him one. Or maybe one of those beautiful Italian leather shoes I’ve seen on the stores by Madison Avenue, instead. Or a shaving mirror…”

I’ve been curious to know what he looked like without that silly mustache of his for a few months now. A couple times, while he slept next to me, I fantasized about picking a razor from the bathroom and shaving it off. Not that I would ever do it, of course. But it was fun to imagine, especially during that weird in-between time, in which I wanted so badly to stay beside him but I couldn’t sleep and was just lying next to him, staring at him, memorizing every little detail of his handsome face, bored out of my mind.

“He probably has all the wristwatches he could ever want,” I huffed, turning back to my own reflection. “And all the Italian shoes, and all the shaving mirrors—”

“Oh my God –Jerry Hall’s leaving Bryan Ferry for Mick Jagger!” Laurie shouted, waving the magazine around.

They all gasped and flocked around her, trying to catch a peek of the news. I kept grumbling under my breath. They were all just jealous of me. They all saw the gifts that showed up in my locker, they all knew who the ‘C’ that neatly signed the cards was. They all wished they were dating someone as sophisticated and chivalrous as my Cesar.

“What size did you say those shoes were?” Colin asked me at the bar. “’Cause I got this friend who’d be interested in buying them from you.”

“I’m actually thinking about keeping them,” I told him, running my thumb over the edge of the glass. “At least, for the time being.”

Colin shot Jamie an impressed little glance, doing a funny grimace. “And here I was, thinking you’d want to get rid of all those things as soon as humanly possible… All those heavy, voluminous, annoying luxury trifles—”

“Where do you even keep your treasure trove, little mermaid?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I smiled with a quirk of my eyebrows.

Just on the edge of the dance floor I could see Jess, my bitch of a boss, smoking a cigarette, watching over the rest of the goody girls. I needed to get back to work –but I was still unsure whether or not to get the deal done with those silver stilettos Cesar had gifted me, or if to wait for a better offer. Whatever money I got with that deal, I thought, I could spend on an actually nice, expensive gift for him. Something he’d truly love.

“I was, um… I was thinking,” I began saying. “You know, because our anniversary’s coming up—”

“Our anniversary?” Jamie gasped, opening his eyes wide and gripping my hand. “So soon already? My goodness, how time flies…”

I chuckled. “Mine and Cesar ’s anniversary, you silly…  It’s coming this Saturday, and I need to know what I should get him... ‘Cause I want it to be special. Something he doesn’t have yet, something only I could give him. I want him to see just how much he means to me.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re half broke?”

“He’s the man, Val –he’s not only the man, he’s ‘the’ man… Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“I bet he’s got a lovely surprise planned for you…” Ernie said.

“I mean, he... He forgot about my birthday last year,” I said with a little nervous laugh. “So… Maybe, if I don’t take care of it… He won’t, either.”

“What is it you expect from him?” Colin asked me, resting a hand on his golden-clad hips. “A marriage proposal?”

“That wouldn’t be half bad,” I admitted. “But… I don’t know what I’m expecting. I just want us to spend some nice time together—”

“Is he that good in bed?”

The three of them got snickering and giggling like schoolkids. I rolled my eyes and elbowed Ernie, the one standing closest to me. “I’m being serious. This isn’t just about sex.”

“Of course not. It’s about cold hard cash, too.”

“A side of sex’s not bad, though—”

 “One for the other, and with a surprisingly generous man—”

“Lot of girls would kill to be in your tiny shoes,” Colin said, glancing at the other goody girls in the crowd, their grinning faces as they deployed the whole set of fake laughs and praises to earn their tips. “If I were in yours, I’d just be thankful.”

“And you’re so lucky… Imagine getting so many beautiful things from your lover,” Ernie smiled. “You must really be his top girl, Val.”

“Truly, you got him eating out the palm of your hand, darling,” Colin said, letting out a deep sigh. “I simply wish I had that level of success with my own daddies.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, please –you don’t gotta play coy, Miss Val,” Jamie said with a sly grin of his own. “Nobody’s fooling anyone here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I cried. Slowly, the realization hit me. “Jesus, you guys and your dirty thoughts. I’m not a gold-digger.”

“Right. And you just didn’t know that the guy was loaded.”

“He walked right into your trap, there’s no shame in admitting you ensnared him fair and square.”

“But… I haven’t ‘ensnared’ him, or whatever,” I quickly said. “I’m just his girlfriend. It doesn’t mean anything, that he’s got his money. I would’ve liked him anyways.”

Colin burst out laughing, followed immediately by Jamie, and then Ernie laughed a bit too, though he didn’t seem to really know what he was laughing about. “Sure, Val, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I scoffed at him. Of course I would have liked him anyways. Just because the first thing I noticed about him was how glamorous he was, and that our first date was in his big expensive car, didn’t mean that I was with him for the economic perks. Just because I resold most if not all of the gifts he gave me for some extra pocket change didn’t mean that it was the only reason I hung around. After all, I loved him. And he loved me, too. Who cared if we barely did anything together anymore, besides dancing and fucking. Who cared what others thought when they saw me coming out of the backseat of his car. Who cared what the other goody girls thought when they noticed the white roses and the wrapped presents he left in my locker at the changing room for me. Cesar loved me. And I was not a whore.

“Fuck you all. You don’t know me—”

“We know enough, Val.”

“Yes… You’re like a little slut who doesn’t know yet she’s one.”

I elbowed him, harder than I had ever elbowed Bri, hard enough to actually hurt. Problem is, Jamie was much stronger than me. He just laughed as if he had been tickled.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that—!”

“Shut up!” I yelled. “Shut the fuck up!”

Ernie was the only one who stopped laughing, suddenly startled, to stare at me with eyes wide open in dumb surprise. As if it was a surprise that I didn’t like being called a slut. We were nowhere near close enough for any of them to call me whatever shit they wanted –especially not something I knew Cesar would get the wrong idea from, if he ever found out.

“Aw, donʼ make that face, Val,” Ernie said, pulling a strand of hair off my face. “You know they’re just joking…”

“I just worry… He might not love me anymore,” I said, about to pinch the bridge of my nose before remembering just how long it had taken me to get my eyeshadow looking right. “It’s stupid, I know, but… I feel I’m doing everything here, all the damn effort, and he—”

“All the effort?” Colin laughed. “Baby, all you gotta do is look pretty. You picked the wrong line of work.”

“Shush, Colin. Val, is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

I smiled at Ernie, the only good-natured one of the bunch. At least he tried to care for me.

“No, nothing really happened… It’s just a feeling I get. But I don’t know, I might be imagining things.” I was about to down my rum and coke, but thought it over. “He really must be just tired, and busy… I’m just being too desperate.”

“What do you care, how you come across?” Jamie asked me with a frown. “You’re living it up with the boss, least you could do is have some fun with it. And if he doesn’t like that, well, the king can get himself another courtesan.”

“Exactly. Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“You just don’t get it,” I huffed, turning the glass in my hand. “It’s not like that… I really, really love him.”

“She what?”

“She said she loves him.”

“She what ?”

“I do love him. And…” I hesitated. “… He cares for me. Isn’t that the same as love?”

Colin scoffed, plucking a bag of ludes from my tray when he thought I wasn’t looking, or at least that I wouldn’t necessarily complain. I knew what they were thinking. I was just being pathetic, moaning over my long-term boyfriend, who gave me everything, who still thought of me enough to want to give me the world.

“I’m just… I’m tired of waiting for him to prove it to me. Really prove it, I mean,” I thought out loud. “So far, I feel like I’m… Yes, I guess –that I’m really just his… His mistress.”

‘Mistress’ sounded better than ‘personal whore’, but not by much. It still sounded like there was no affection there at all. And I knew that there had to be something else between us, something real, beyond an occasional fuck. You just don’t stay for so long with someone who only wants you in bed. He and I, we had a connection. That was the only way to explain it, back there on the dance floor, when we first realized that we had something going on.

“Cesar must have been right,” I finally said. “I might just be too damn insecure.”

“Here, baby,” Ernie said sympathetically, selecting a cellophane bag from my tray. “Looks like you need it.”

I shot him a look, but he was right. My mood swings had gotten worse than usual, and I didn’t have much of a choice if I wanted to stay sane. Dumping some on the back of my hand, I pushed it into a little pile with my nail, and snorted it down. Then I closed the cellophane bag again. After all, I needed to make some sales.

“Thanks, sweetface,” I said with a sigh, gesturing to the bar for another drink.

There are only two things wrong with blow: the bitterness and the comedown. The comedown can’t be helped. The bitterness can be softened with something with more of a sugary kick, most of the time. Never with alcohol –which only makes it worse: not just the taste, but the comedown’s even more awful if you’re also stone-cold drunk. It could keep me in a wonderful high for an hour or so, but it also messed me up to a point I was so wound up each time I got more than a minimum dose, I got sort of afraid of what I would do. Sometimes, it’s like I can only feel one emotion at a time.

It was not the best quality, but it was still better than the alternative of an aspirin and a tequila shot. Once the dripping bitter flavor was fully washed away with a whole glass of bubbly iced soda, I stayed by the bar and waited, watching the dance floor, for it to kick in. Sure enough, after a few seconds I got the tingly warm feeling in my arms and legs, announcing the high was coming. My face soon was warm too, slightly blushed, and I could feel myself glowing. I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand, and told myself to just enjoy it and don’t think about it too much.

Not that I had much choice, really. The euphoria was irresistible, and it had a special magical pull on my cheeks to force a big grin on my face. Suddenly I was happy, pure and simple, and it didn’t take long for me to start talking to a few clients, laughing and joking with them, as I turned friendlier, flirtier, easier to talk to, the employee of the goddamn month –I looked around, checking if someone else needed my service –to buy something from my little tray –and for a while I was hypnotized by the sheer beauty around me –as if it was the first time I saw it –as everyone looked better than ever, the men and women were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, sweat sparkling on slick skin like rhinestones, glamour-shot by flickers of purple and green light, dancing with slithering, smooth moves, and I closed my eyes, swaying along, because even the music sounded better, louder, clearer, and I danced, too, modestly at first, before really letting loose, and the walls flashed blinding red like a warning, and the women parted their lips in sighs and moans, as they raised their arms to the sky as if chanting incantations, and the men were like ghosts, all shadowed eyes and big gaping mouths and nothing to tell them apart under the bright blue light, and we all glowed, we all almost floated off the smoke on the floor, like walking on clouds, and I felt a necklace of sweat setting on my collarbone, my head becoming warmer, and by then I wasn’t even selling anything anymore I was just enjoying myself and trying my best not to think about him and I shook my head and bumped into the other dancers and someone told me something I didn’t hear, I just kept dancing, and the red lights pierced my eyes and the blue shadows kept surrounding me and moving closer and closer and I felt their skin against mine and I got the first twinge of panic that I tried to shake off but barely managed to, and the swirling sweet and bitter taste that was still nested in the bottom of my throat began bubbling up again in a ball of bile and I turned my head back to force it back down and someone shoved me and a wave of vertigo hit me like an incoming train and the dizziness didn’t get better after a couple minutes because it just turned worse and my racing pulse had become almost like a buzzing in my ears and I couldn’t find my way back to the bar for another coke and I kept on stumbling on other people and failing to grab onto their silky clothes and I got deathly afraid I would fall to the blinking dancefloor and with that I’d be tramped and ground into dust, I could feel my heart in my head and not in the good way, not anymore, and the eyes of the blue shadows turned to glance at me, and then they became stares, and then I was choking a scream, and the music kept blasting and the lights kept flashing in a way that was almost comforting despite everything and I managed to push my way out the dance floor and to the changing room, where I collapsed on a chair and grabbed my throbbing head and wished I had a joint or a rum and coke to wind down a bit.

“Val?” a familiar voice softly called out. “You okay?”

Sally approached me, her short hair dusted with sparkles, her tan skin shifting shades as she got away from the door and closer to the lightbulbs of the changing room mirrors.

“Yeah, I just…” I chuckled, patting the table in search of a forgotten cigarette. “It hit me a bit harder than usual, is all.”

She nodded, with a little smile on the edge of her glossy lips. It was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. I sold goods to a bunch of actresses and models on the regular, but none were half as beautiful as Sally, for my two cents.

“… I heard you’ve got an anniversary coming up.”

“Yes!” I nodded, happy to know that at least someone had actually listened to me. “Yes, this Saturday night… I’ve already made the reservation for our dinner. And I think I know what I’m gonna get for his present, but…”

Sally blinked, lowering her head towards me, gently urging me to go on.

“… I’m… I don’t know if he’s even… I’m just a bit worried, you know?” I muttered, wringing my hands. “’Cause I think that he still loves me, but… But he doesn’t…”

How could I even say it, that he didn’t show it to me anymore? I was probably sounding like a whiny baby. I looked up at her, thinking about that nerdy four-eyed boyfriend of his she had so excitedly introduced us to. Despite his looks, she always had nice things to say about him. She was lucky. She seemed perfectly happy with him.

“I’m sure he does. You two have been together for a while, right?”

I nodded, squeezing my hands between my knees. I still felt my heart racing in my ears, but at least the world wasn’t spinning around me anymore.

“And he’s… He’s like the owner, or something, of this whole place, right?”

I nodded again.

“Maybe he’s just worried that you’re only in for the money… I mean, you’re his employee, in a kind of way—”

“But it’s not like that at all—”

“I know, Val, I know… But does he know?” she asked me. “I think that’s what’s important.”

Cesar had to know. I always told him how much I wanted to see him, how much I loved him, how important he was to me. If I only wanted gifts from him, I wouldn’t be so insistent. Yes, he had to know. But, in any case, it was something that he might need to be reminded of, every once in a while.

Sally patted my hair, which was probably a mess after all that wild dancing I had been doing. “You know what lifts my spirits, when I’m feelin’ down?”

“A bucket of uppers?”

She laughed. Sally had a cute, girlish laugh, sweet enough to be charming, not quite high enough to be annoying. It was difficult to imagine someone like her ever feeling down.

“I like to spend a day at the beauty parlor. You know, have my nails done, my hair washed, the full works,” she said with a wink. “It’s really nice to be pampered every once in a while.”

She fished a little piece of paper from the table, and made a gesture for me to turn around. I did so. She pressed the paper on my sweaty back, found a pencil somewhere, and wrote an address on the back of it, digging the tip so it would leave a mark. I felt it sticking like a rub-on tattoo.

“My friend works here, it’s the best you could ever find in Manhattan. Tell ‘em I sent you. They’ll make sure you’re treated right.”

She handed me the little paper, and asked me if I could read her handwriting all right. I laughed, and, surprising even myself, I gave her a tight hug and a thrilled thank-you.

I arrived a bit earlier than usual to my shift at the Playhouse the next day, making my way to Cesar’s office. There I met up with his secretary, and asked her about his favorite restaurants, the sort of place she knew he would love. After some cajoling, she finally told me that my best option to win him over was to get us a reservation to Hulanicki, an exclusive place he only went with very close friends and the people he liked to impress. Sounded just about perfect. Heading back down to the changing room, I got Jess to allow me to make a social call, and I booked us two a table. And, when that was done with, I even took the time to go back upstairs to his office, and make sure that his secretary would write down and remind him of the date, place and time for the dinner reservation. There, I thought, it wasn’t half bad. Cesar had no excuse for not being able to make an effort and take a minute and do this sort of thing himself.

Next up, the gift. After much thought I had decided I would get him a cigar cutter: the one he had in his office had lost its edge, and I liked the idea of getting him something that he would use so frequently. I smiled to myself, gazing at the display of options at the counter of the shop around the corner, thinking about Cesar thinking about me before having a smoke. The little cigar cutter box was giftwrapped in silver plastic, I paid a little extra for a red bow to be tied around it, and once that was all done with, I shoved it in my bag.

Having taken care of that, I kept in mind that, once I got out the beauty parlor, I would have to pick up my shift at the Playhouse before I got to our reservation at the Hulanicki. I would dress up for once. I picked the only sundress I had, light and pretty, white and polka-dotted, which I had worn for a couple auditions where I had wanted to play the ingenue. It was cheaper than my boyfriend’s gifts, but it was a nice middle ground between what I liked and what he wanted to see me in.

And, of course, since I was confident there would be plenty of time to spend together after dinner, underneath the white polka-dot dress I wore the best lingerie I owned. Black lace push-up bra, stockings, garters –the whole shebang.

I had never been to a beauty parlor before –that was, as a customer. I had tried for jobs there a couple times, unsuccessfully. My mother would pay the place a visit once or twice a year, on her own, for the occasional primping and preening for a wedding or funeral. Most of the time she did her own hair and nails; I learned a good deal of what I knew from watching her. When I attended Heath’s home parties I learned a lot about makeup with the other girls who taught me. Stuff like hair, though, was my mother’s specialty. It couldn’t possibly be easy to turn deep black into bright even red with the same consistency she did.

“What’re you having, sweetheart?” one of the women there, with dark, sleek, straight hair asked me once I stepped in.

“The full works,” I said, following her to a chair. “Hair, nails, makeup…”

“Ooh, you got a special event coming up?”

“A special dinner, tonight,” I grinned. “And I need to look my best.”

The woman nodded and smiled, gestured to the chair for me to sit, and laid a black cape over my shoulders and chest. Once my hands were covered too, I dug my nails on the armrests of the chair, and hoped they wouldn’t notice. I still remembered when I had first tried to bleach my hair, how, even with a botched bathroom job, I still ended up looking like someone else completely. I could only try and dare to imagine how I’d end up looking once I left the place.

First off, they washed my hair: they got all the grime and grease out, shampooed and conditioned it, blow-dried it and brushed it thoroughly. Once it was nice and shiny, it was time for bleaching, to even out the color and retouch my roots. My head was soon covered in aluminum sheets. I giggled at my reflection, looking like a satellite. While the chemicals did their job, the stylist handed me a bunch of magazines and asked me what style I had in mind. Originally I’d just thought of going back to my choppy, uneven cut. It was easy to care for, and I liked the tough look it gave me, a real don’t-fuck-with-me kinda style. But, after leafing through the photos of models, I decided to take a chance and try something more romantic –soft curls, nice and voluminous, barely touching my shoulders. It was viable, since my hair had gotten rather long after such a while without a trim.

“—So he told me that I was being insecure. But I don’t know,” I finished saying with a shrug. “I think it was a logical thing to think… When there’s these long stretches of time between each chance we get to meet, when he’s never around for me to meet up with him, what else am I supposed to think?”

They all nodded, the stylists and their clients. The sun was already setting, filling the salon with a soft yellow light. I glanced at the clock in the wall: I still had a few hours left before the reservation at the Hulanicki.

“But what do you think?” a woman with feathered hair asked me. “Do you really think you’re being insecure, or dramatic, or whatever?”

“I… I think I might be, but… I don’t know. I’m just nervous that, whatever I’m doing, he’s gonna be annoyed by it. Or worse, ashamed of me—”

“Is he really ashamed of you?”

“Well, we don’t spend enough time out together for him to really show it—”

“But when you two are together, do you feel that he’s, y’know, ashamed of having you around?”

I opened my mouth to reply, before I realized I didn’t quite know the answer to that question. Of course, I didn’t want to believe that he was. But it wasn’t a matter of belief. I knew I couldn’t lie to myself about something like that. So I focused, staring at my reflection in the mirror, and went over the memory of his dark brown eyes, and of each time he had looked at me without a smile.

“He… He is,” I finally mumbled, as if finally knowing hadn’t hit me that hard. “I think.”

“And are you ashamed of yourself?”

“No. Yes. I think—”

“It’s not what you think, honey, it’s what you feel,” she said. “What do you feel?”

Shame was not the word… When he glanced at me over my shoulder when I suggested going out, I was angry. When he stared at me across the bedroom while I changed back into my clothes, I was angry. When he glared at me while complaining about my lack of manners, I was angry. By that point I was just really good at keeping my mouth shut, looking down, biting my tongue. Because I knew that, if I said something, then we would fight –and then that would mean I would say something he’d be really ashamed of, and wish he hadn’t picked me up that winter night. Cesar could feel however he wanted. I wouldn’t be ashamed of who I was and what I liked.

“I feel angry .”

“Good. Worst thing you can do in a relationship is to feel like your man’s too good for you.”

“Preach,” the woman with the straight hair sighed, gesturing up to the ceiling, and the other woman nodded along.

“Whatever you do, darling, do it with gusto. Never be ashamed,” the other one said, running the side of the scissor blade through the hair. “If someone tries to get you to do something you’d be ashamed of, either get proud real quick, or get going. Never give ‘em an inch.”

“Exactly,” the straight-haired woman nodded. “Shamelessness’ the way to go. It’s not something you can fake.”

“Most importantly,” she continued. “Never be ashamed of who you are.”

“Funny,” I chuckled. “My father once told me shame was our conscience telling us to rethink our actions.”

She laughed out loud, twirling her silver scissors, making them gleam. “Was your father a Christian, by any chance?”

“Catholic.”

“Figures,” she sighed. “Talk about shame. People who cream themselves at the sight of a bleeding, naked bound man—”

Another one of the women gave her a dismayed slap on the shoulder. I giggled, glad to have finally found someone who I could really talk to, even if I was supposed to pay them at the end and they weren’t really my friends.

While the dye did its job, they plucked my eyebrows and worked my nails. They wiped away the chipped red polish, cleaned and snipped the edges, pushed back my cuticles, filed them till they were all perfectly almond-shaped, and lathered my fingers with cold cream. After some doubts, I chose black nail polish, along with dark lipstick and smokey eyeshadow. A bit of darkness would make the silver dress look even brighter.

One of the women smiled, proud of her work, once she finished with my makeup. She gave me a piece of paper to press between my lips and wipe the excess off, pushed away my curls off my face, and turned me around in the chair. When I looked back at my reflection, it was as if looking at a real movie star.

“You’ve worked a miracle,” I said breathlessly.

“Don’t sell yourself so short,” the woman with the feathered hair laughed. “We can only work with what we have.”

“Thank you so, so, so much,” I told her, holding her hands and giving them a tight squeeze.

“Don’t ruin the manicure, now,” she said with a smile. “Go and have a good one, sweetheart.”

Back at the almost-empty Playhouse, I took out my little treasure trove from the roof of the bathroom stall and examined my options. There were all sorts of pretty jewelry, but if I was gonna go to this high-class, elegant sort of joint, I needed something that would make me fit in. Going with the silver, I chose a long, heavy silver chain necklace, with matching earrings. I almost chose one covered in rhinestones, before realizing that maybe that sort of thing could be seen as too gaudy. Not that I ever cared much about being seen as gaudy, but since I was going to go out with Cesar, I wanted to look like the sort of girl he could respect. No shame, just pride. I promised myself I wouldn’t even give him a chance to be ashamed of me anymore. From then on, not only would he think I was the most beautiful girl in the world: when he thought of me, the first image that would come to mind was of me in that silver dress, with the platinum curls and the dark lips, glowing like an old-timey movie starlet. Looking like we were meant for the other.

Gripping the accessories and the dress in my fists, I slinked back into the changing room. Nobody else had arrived yet. I hadn’t tried the dress on yet. At first glance, I trusted it would fit me nicely: I had been very wrong. It had a train that, while it moved beautifully when I walked, dragged too much behind me. It hung loose on the shoulders and the arms, but even with the pleats it was far too tight on my chest.

The door flung open. I jumped with a gasp. It was only Sally, thankfully, who had come early for once. When she saw me, she smiled, and I almost expected her to laugh –but she just raised her eyebrows at me, glancing up and down, probably admiring Cesar’s glittering gifts.

“Just be honest with me,” I sighed. “How bad is it?”

“I think this dress just doesn’t go with a bra,” she chuckled, leaving her handbag on her vanity. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, kind of,” I admitted, pushing my shoulders back, the fabric barely giving in.

“Here, let me help.”

Sally got off the vanity and walked behind me. For a moment I thought she’d try to fit the pleats of the dress a bit better, or maybe pull out a little sewing kit and tighten the shoulders, at least to make them droop less. To my surprise, I felt the tip of her fingers on my back. I held my breath. She unhooked my bra, and carefully slipped the ends of the fastening under the fabric, fiddling under the dress, sending a shiver up my spine, making my skin crawl with the sudden contact. I quickly threw my shoulders forward, picking the straps and pulling the bra off from under my arms. Sally brushed my curls off my shoulders. I was still holding my breath. Even more ridiculous, I was actually blushing. What on Earth’s wrong with me? , I thought.

“Let’s see, now…”

She moved back in front of me and turned me in front of the mirror. I kept staring at her for a minute longer, before remembering this was all for my anniversary look. My cleavage did look better now without the black bra peeking through. I pulled the hems of the neckline, adjusting it, asking myself whether I felt more comfortable than before or not. I really couldn’t tell. Even if it seemed nicer to look at, the shoulders still drooped limply, unless I pushed them back and kept them tense and stiff for the rest of the night –which I couldn’t really see myself doing.

“It just doesn’t fit right…” I insisted, pressing my shiny black nail against the little mole the makeup couldn’t quite cover. The more I looked at my own reflection, the more faults I found.

“You look so beautiful, Val,” she said gently. “I don’t think anyone will really notice.”

I couldn’t keep the pout on my face when she said that. Girls didn’t often tell me I was pretty –not since Heath’s house parties, at least. I had forgotten how nice it was, for someone who actually knows all the effort that goes into looking that good to comment on it. And Sally was probably one of the few other goody girls I could ever trust with knowing what real pretty was.

“Thank you, Sal.”

She smiled at me, her shiny eyes squinting behind a thick curtain of fake eyelashes, with one of those special types of smiles that aren’t condescending, aren’t threatening –that are just perfect. A movie star type of smile, the one that’d get you to buy something they vouched for.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

And, looking the best I’d looked in my whole life, clawing the bag where I had Cesar’s little gift, I hopped out the Playhouse and into a taxi.

The Hulanicki was this expensive, upscale restaurant, the sort of place you had to dress up to even be allowed through the front door. It had orange-carpeted corridors, cool and smooth marble walls, tall palm trees with leaves that became lost in the darkness of the high ceiling, and a soft warm golden glow on everything. There was a drinks bar, very similar to the one at the Playhouse, except that this one had a back wall made out of several mirror stripes. There were mirrors everywhere, actually: on the walls, peering behind heavy caramel-colored velvet curtains, on the shiny brass surface of the dim lights hanging over the little tables.

I arrived just in time for our reservation. Some people looked up from their dishes when I passed by their tables, but by their expressions they didn’t seem to think I looked out of place. There were a few other couples there, having entrées and sipping wine from their fancy glasses. Soft music played in the background, so low I didn’t really hear it until I sat down at the table and could relax for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

“Would you like the menu, ma’am?” a waiter asked me.

“No, thank you,” I smiled. “I’m waiting for someone.”

The waiter nodded and left. I had a sip of water, drumming my nails against the stem of the glass, turning it and watching how the light refracted and made rainbows on the tablecloth.

A few minutes passed. I laid my hand on top of the little candle on the table, feeling the warmth, moving my palm down onto the flame as close as I could without burning myself.

An hour passed. The waiter asked me if I wanted anything while I waited, so I had a glass of wine, the most expensive one they had, just to feel like I was doing something important. I still finished it quicker than I should have, gulping it down and leaving a dark red ring on the white tablecloth.

Two hours passed. I finally stood up and asked to use their phone, and I called Cesar’s office. His secretary told me he was not there. I called his penthouse. He wasn’t there either. I went back to my table, making my best effort at steadying my breathing and not getting worked up.

Three hours passed. A waiter approached me and asked if I wanted another glass of wine. I tried to smile back and say ‘no, thank you’, but my lips were trembling and I could barely speak. I just shook my head. He left.

And, finally, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer –and slammed my fists on the table –finally realizing that no, he was not gonna come, that I had been waiting there for hours like a dumbass and that I was just making a fool of myself in front of the other customers.

Fuck that. Let them judge.

I cried, as loud as my lungs could allow, out of sheer fury. Anger was always better than tears. I punched the table once more, but that wasn’t enough –I needed noise –I needed movement –so I grabbed the tablecloth –and yanked it –sending the empty wine glass and the four different forks and the water and the bread basket flying all over, crashing wonderfully on the marble walls and marble floor, and the little candle landed on the carpeted floor, and a woman screamed at the sight of fire, and I got up on my feet and stomped away from the disaster as the waiters rushed to fix it, and in the chaos I managed to make my way out of the restaurant before someone could remind me to pay for the overpriced wine and a bunch of stale rolls.

One thing was a scruffy teenage crush, keeping me at arm’s length, never allowing me to dream too big about our future together. Another thing entirely was Cesar –who told me, over and over, just how much he loved me, how important I was to him. This was a real betrayal. This was a goddamn stab in the back.

There was a hot gust of wind, and a low rumbling of an engine. Right in front of the Hulanicki’s entrance I saw this white Eldorado, gorgeous and brand new. A man in a lilac suit got out and stretched his arm to hand the keys to a valet. I snatched them away before they reached the guy. I climbed in the car, slammed the door closed, and drove away before I could even think about it twice.

I turned on the radio and scrambled for a while, trying to find a good station that could have anything to keep my mind off Cesar. The kinda music he hated, no crooners or divos or sappy love ballads. I stopped when I heard something similar to the music of the house parties at Hackensack, and the rock shows at the Bowery. Something familiar, something comforting. I left the dial alone. The drumming grew louder, the guitar became noisier –and the anger I had boiling in me reached the breaking point.

And I screamed.

“ Well, you got the hands of a man and the face of a little boy blue… And when you stand you’re so grand there’s a case just for looking at you— ”

Good enough , I thought, my throat still aching from the strain, feeling the rumbling on the steering wheel. I punched the dashboard, thrashing my head, forcing myself not to cry, biting my lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. I passed a manhole –the whole car shook –and my bag fell heavy against my thigh. Half open as it was, a corner of the wrapped cigar cutter peeked out.

I grabbed his present and chucked it out the window.

“ Come like a lightning flash, a lightning flash— ”

Trying to find a cigarette, my fingers found a little emergency cellophane bag I had saved in my bag. And this was an emergency if I had ever seen one.

Faster –as fast as the engine would give. I zoomed past honking cars, raced past the busy center through familiar streets and towards Cesar’s place. With any luck, I would find him getting out of his car, and I’d step on it and crash into him and crush him completely, a head-on collision that would tenderize his flesh and shatter his bones and make his head burst against the pavement like a kid’s water balloon—

The sirens were tailing me already. It had lasted so little… But I should have known –it was the East Side –where most cops were, where it would be easier to get caught. I glanced at the car following me in the rearview mirror. But I wouldn’t brake. Let’s see them try to catch me. I grinned at my own reflection, and took a deep breath, bracing myself, tensing my arms. My mascara was running, my lipstick was smudged and had stained my teeth, my hair was wild and the previously picture-perfect curls now bounced and sprung in all directions, as if I had received a sudden electric jolt. I was already a mess; a little more destruction wouldn’t make any difference.

I stepped on the accelerator. I needed to push the machine as fast as it could go, and then some. I needed to feel something new. I needed to smash the fucking sound barrier. I needed to set the engine on fire.

And before I could realize it –I was heading right towards a storefront’s glass window –and I tried to swerve –turning the wheel under my clammy hands –but the Eldorado turned too late –too sudden –and it spun to the side –I flinched and covered my head with my arms –the windshield cracked –there was a loud metallic burst –and a million little shards of glass sputtered like champagne bubbles. I shut my eyes, barely remembering to keep my mouth closed for once. My body shook and slammed against the car door. My head hit the roof. A drop of blood ran down my brow. I managed to draw in a gasp of breath. It felt like I had split my skull wide open.

The loud metallic noises stopped. Everything I could hear was the radio, still playing, though just barely. The stereo had suffered some damage, too. Such a pity. Such a beautiful car.

“Ma’am?” I heard a faraway voice calling to me. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

I guess I was lucky I was wearing the seatbelt. I climbed out, slowly getting to feel the scrapes and cuts on my arms and legs. Many small ones, which I guess are better than a few large ones, than a few lethal ones. A bunch of little red dots, but barely so, nothing to worry about. It was as if the blood wasn’t even mine. Truly, I didn’t feel much pain at all –just a nasty headache, a heavy faintness, and a tiny swirling ball of bile at the bottom of my throat. I almost tripped when someone tried to help me away from the car, but I managed to keep my balance on the one heel that was still clinging to my foot.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m… I’m Alright.”

The sirens became louder. I recoiled at the flashing red and blue lights. And from there, it was like it always was. The cop sat me in the back of his car, drove us off to the station in a bumpy ride across the city, and asked me if I had been under the influence of any substances. I didn’t answer this time. I didn’t even joke around. All I wanted was Cesar.

“My call…”

The cop sighed, but allowed it. I walked up to the phone, dialed the number, and waited. Silence on the wire. The beeping of the machine seemed to mock me. I called again. Silence. And again. Silence. Minutes passed, and nobody answered.

“Alright, miss. Cell four’s free for you.”

I could barely react to the guy grabbing my arm and pulling me away. It just made no sense. Cesar never left me hanging like that.

“Wait –wait, please… I want to make one last call,” I said, finally snapping back to reality. “Please. Just one more.”

The cop shot the officer a look. He nodded. I hurried back to the telephone, and dialed a new number.

“ Hello? ” The voice sounded just familiar enough for me to recognize, but different enough for me to get me to realize what I was actually doing. “ Hello? Who is it? ”

It had been five years. Of course Bri’s voice would have changed a bit after all that time. I tried to listen for someone else in the background, like my mother washing the dishes before bed, or my father watching the late news. But there didn’t seem to be anyone there, apart from her.

“ Hello? ”

I don’t know what I was even thinking. I definitely wasn’t gonna tell my little sister I was calling from the police station. She’d tell my mother, the little snitch, and she would lose it, if her reaction to when I showed up in our neighborhood followed by a cop car was any indication. What would they even do? Pay the bail? Come all the way from Hackensack to pick me up? I hung up, closing my eyes. I should have tried to call Cesar once more. That’d be less of a waste of time than thinking I could get any help from my family.

“Alright, now, miss. Cell four.”

I’d have put up a fight if I wasn’t feeling so beat. Just like the last time I had been caught, a mugshot was taken, my fingerprints stamped, my full fake name and age registered, and when I was finally feeling a little more put-together, as if I was just waking up from a sudden sleep, I was shoved into the cell.

Sleep would have been nice, at least to kill some time and keep my mind away from the place. I was too fired up to even close my eyes. It was boiling hot in there. The sweat got in my eyes, slipped over the edge of my lips, tasting salty and smelling sweet. The buzzing of the fluorescent lightbulb over my head was driving me crazy. I picked at the scabs on my arms and the rips on my stockings, trying to think about what my options were, my mind too chaotic to fully focus on anything in particular. Dozing off for a while became too hard, with the light and the noise, so I took off my one broken heel and paced around the concrete cell like a caged animal, counting seconds, losing count and starting again. Apart from the buzzing of the lightbulb, the echoing steps of a cop down the hallway, rhythmic and regular like the ticking of a clock, helped me count the seconds better. When I got bored of that I ran my fingernails over the steel bars, from left to right and right to left, ruining the manicure but at least sorta entertained by the clinking noise. My feet had turned numb from pacing. If I had been allowed to keep my jewelry, I would have fidgeted with it, and it might have calmed me down some. Last time I had two cellmates, at least, to keep me distracted. I was alone that night.

Next morning, forcing my eyes open through the sticky mascara, the door was slammed open, I got up, and was let go. I had only been detained, they told me, for my own safety. The cops do love saying that, ‘for your own safety’. There would be a fine, though, they said. They didn’t give me back the jewelry, no matter how much I yelled and swore and tried to intimidate them. Instead of earning me another overnight stay at the cell, I put on the shoe and walked all the way back to Hell’s Kitchen, stumbled up the stairs to the third floor of the Broslin, and locked myself up in the tiny shared bathroom. Too late I remembered the little cracked mirror someone had stuck over the sink with bubblegum. The image it gave back to me was a real mess.

I still had remains of scabs I hadn’t managed to scratch off. I felt wounded and rough and scraped and ruined. A car crash of a person. A goddamn pity, all that hard work at the beauty parlor. My old self just had to come through. Like I could only be myself if I had some blood on me.

Nobody can say that I wasn’t owed an explanation. Part of me hoped that Cesar had had an accident or something, like I did: a damn good enough excuse for him not showing up.

When I went to work the next day, earlier than ever and determined to catch him this time, I saw Cesar climbing out the black car, parked in front of the Playhouse’s entrance. I smiled, fixing my hair, glad, on some level, to know everything was fine. And then, he stretched his hand back to the backseat, and a dainty hand took his. Out came a tall red-haired woman, dressed in an elegant satin blouse, a long skirt with a slit on the side, and expensive-looking lace-up heels. She was soon followed by a cute little boy, who held his mother’s hand just as tightly as Cesar held hers. I couldn’t see her face, standing as she was with her back to me, but by the gentle tone of her voice, it sounded like she was smiling. Cesar smiled back at her, leaned forward and closed his eyes and kissed her somewhere, hard to say whether on the cheek, on the top of her head, on her lips. My heart got caught somewhere in my throat, making it hard to breathe. For a moment I was back at that party at Heath’s house, with him smooching some other girl, while I stood on the sidelines and witnessed the crime scene. The victim of their infidelity. Indeed, commitment was hard to come by.

“Hi, sweetface.”

I startled him –and I could only laugh at his expression. If he had been surprised… But I repeated to myself that it was perfectly possible that the redheaded woman was just a friend of his. A model, an actress or something, just a good friend. Yeah, right. That’s what they said, right? They’re just good friends. Still, accusing without strong enough evidence was a gamble.

“Hi, Val…”

“You say I don’t take my job seriously…” I chuckled, looking at him over my sunglasses. “Well, here I am, arriving early for once.”

He gave me a nervous little smile. Would he be that nervous, if the woman had really been just a friend?, I wondered. The doorman opened the door for Cesar, he went in first, and I followed him through the hallway and behind a curtain to the backstage corridors to his office.

“You think I’m looking old?” he asked, patting the front of his hairline. I’ve always thought he looked pretty good for being more than twice my age.

“Who was that woman, sweetface?”

He finally turned around to look at me. “Excuse me?”

“That woman at the entrance,” I said coldly, pushing down all my anger. “With the boy.”

“Oh. That was just Patricia.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

We arrived at the top of the stairs, to his office. He unlocked the door, took off his jacket, and took his time to answer.

“She’s my ex-wife.”

I could feel the blood draining from my face. “Wait –you’re married?”

“Divorced,” he corrected me.

“And you have a son!?”

“Why are you so surprised?” he said, as if I was being unreasonable. “What do you care, what happened before we met?”

I told myself he was right, that it was stupid to be so worked up over something so done and over with like an ex-wife. It wasn’t that what bothered me. It was the fact I didn’t know anything about it till now. No matter that it was a silly little thing, the fact remained: who had broken up with who, and why? Was it that they were just not compatible, or did something serious happen? Was there anything about Cesar I needed to know?

“When did you divorce her?” I asked him, even though I really didn’t want to know.

“Three years ago,” he replied. “Before I met you, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It does,” I sighed. Still –he had been married before. I don’t know why that possibility never crossed my mind. He even had a child. “Do you still…? Do you still meet with her, often?”

“With my ex-wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yes,” he shrugged. “Sometimes. When I visit my son.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

He stared at me for a moment. “She’s… She’s very smart.”

“You didn’t answer me,” I insisted. “Do you have a picture of her?”

“No, not anymore.”

I wanted to ask him if he still loved her. I didn’t dare. I knew he would try to change the subject. And avoiding talking about her would be like a confirmation.

“It’s as if I didn’t even know you,” I said quietly.

Cesar sighed, running a finger over his mustache. “That’s rich of you to say. You never tell me anything about you, either.”

“Because you never ask.” Because he wasn’t even interested.

We both remained quiet. I sat on his desk, looking around myself, searching for any images of Patricia and her – their child. The only photographs he had there were glamor pics of a bunch of celebrities that he was friends with, signed by them, framed in gold and resting on expensive furniture pieces, among heavy curtains and the collection of stuffed exotic birds. I looked away from their glass eyes and white smiles to focus on the bigger picture, the largest artwork in the place, hanging above our heads. No matter what, each time I got a chance to visit Cesar’s office, I needed to take a moment to gaze at that painting. It showed a stunning blank-faced woman, smooth and white as if carved out of a candle’s wax, with golden flowing hair, standing gracefully on a seashell, floating over the water. There were other figures in the painting, but they didn’t matter much. I think Cesar thought the same: the light over the frame fell squarely over her, leaving the two others in the shadows. In this instance, I realized that what I had thought were bubbles blown by the same wind that swept her hair were actually little white roses. I wondered if that Patricia bitch looked like the woman in the painting. Maybe that was the type he liked. The type I should try harder to be like.

“Have you ever been to Cuba?” he suddenly asked.

“No…”

"Well, neither have I. But my parents, they used to own so much land back there… They were lucky to have had most of their money in American banks, when the uprisings came. And ever since I was a boy, they told me to be thankful for every single penny. To never take anything for granted,” he sighed, buttoning his shirt. “Life’s not cheap.”

“You got that right,” I said with a little chuckle.

“Anyways… I was thinking, I could get us a nice place in Puerto Rico. Similar enough to Cuba, or so I’ve heard. It’s sunny, it’s warm, it’s much nicer than grimy New York… Granted, it doesn’t have the luxuries Manhattan has as of yet, but maybe we can begin bringing some of that magic there.”

Moving somewhere together. I stopped breathing for a moment. Was he planning a life together already? He sounded completely serious.

“Don’t you think so, darling?”

I didn’t know shit about Puerto Rico. I just cared about one thing.

“Would you be staying in Puerto Rico with me?”

Cesar turned around to face me, and gave me a sorry little glance. “I’d… I’d have to come back to New York from time to time, of course. Business things. To solve some matters.”

And then he smiled his Clark Gable smile, and leaned over towards me. He knew how to win me over.

“But I’d come home to you. Wouldn’t that be nice, Val?” he smiled, stroking my cheek. “You’d love it there. It’s sunny and warm all year long... We could have some kids, too. A boy for me, a girl for you.”

I smiled back. His hand was so, so soft. “That does sound nice…” But I was finally having an honest heart-to-heart with him. And as much as I wanted to hear more about his future dreams, I wasn’t that stupid –and I knew he was just avoiding the question. “I don’t want to live in a big empty house in Puerto Rico, all alone.”

“You’d have maids, of course—”

“I want to be with you, Cesar,” I insisted. “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

“It’s not that… I want to be with you, my dear, the problem is that to keep this sort of lifestyle up, you… You gotta keep working. I’m not a Wall Street guy that can make the money magically multiply itself.”

“Then become one!” I said with a shrug. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Cesar gazed at me, with a frown and narrowed eyes. “You’re truly ungrateful, Val.”

“Listen, I don’t really care if you’re rich or not… All I want is to be with you.”

“You liar. You damn liar.”

His words felt like swallowing a mouthful of bleach. “I mean it—”

“No, you don’t!” he cried. I remembered how Heath would never raise his voice at me. That was how little he had cared about me. At least Cesar cared enough to want me to listen up. “Good Lord, Val –do you think I’m an idiot? Why would you stay with me so long, if it weren’t for everything I gave you?”

I chuckled. “Because I love you! Isn’t it obvious?”

“You said you don’t even know me.”

“But I want to.”

Where I myself was concerned, there was not much to know. I was a boring little person, really, especially compared to the exciting clients of the Playhouse, and all the big names he rubbed elbows with. That had been the real beauty of New York. There, nobody knew me, and whatever lie I could weave was as good as the truth. It was all about fresh starts. I could say goodbye to Tiffany forever. Live the rest of my days as Val, Cesar’s lovely new bride. That would be the real dream come true. I could reinvent myself completely. Hell, I could even learn to like opera. I could learn to be someone that made Cesar happy.

But first, I needed to be honest. As soon as I got that over with, the sooner my new life could start. For starters, I needed to tell him my real name. He knew me as Val, but I needed to come clean to him –no more secrets, nothing hidden between us anymore. Hopefully that would make him come fully clean too.

“My real name is Tiffany,” I began saying, slowly, for him to understand, without any room for doubt. “And I’m from Hackensack, New Jersey. And I came here to New York when I was around fourteen. I’ve done some things that I’d rather not say, and there’s some things that happened to me that I’d rather not talk about either –but apart from that, I can be completely honest with you, if you just—”

“Spare me the soap opera, Val. Everyone’s got their own sob story… And I’m not interested in whatever your specific brand of damage is.”

So much for trying to speak honestly. “You just don’t give a shit, huh?”

“This is all because of the anniversary dinner, isn’t it?”

I scoffed.

“I’m sorry, alright?” he sighed, not sounding very sorry at all. “I didn’t know this was so important to you.”

I turned around to stare at him. “... Sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Can you get over it now, please?”

I kept quiet for a second –and then I laughed louder, higher, opening my eyes wider and wider.

“Oh, you’re sorry! You’re sorry! You’re sorry, yes, you’re so sorry! I can see exactly how damn fucking sorry you are—!”

“Stop these hysterics, for God’s sake!” he yelled, and grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me around. I shoved him away from me. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you behave like a normal person? Good lord!”

“Just tell me, what did I do wrong?” I demanded. “What did I do for you to just keep on giving less and less of a shit about me? And don’t you say it’s because you’re too busy, because I don’t believe it!”

Cesar glared at me. “If you’re not satisfied with the truth, that is not my problem, Val.” Leaning back on his chair, he ran his hand through his hair. “I work so hard for this... You know that.”

“Oh, yes, of course…” I said with a painful grin and a tilt of the head. “You’re the one who keeps the lights on, after all.”

“And you, you don’t work hard for anything. You’re pretty, you’re young… Life comes easy to you. You don’t know what real struggles are. That’s why your life is so full of nothing.”

I kept quiet. Avoiding his gaze, I fidgeted with the little chrome ball clicker toy on his desk. I knew it annoyed him, but the clicking was better than silence. I don’t even know why he had it in the first place –it must have been a gift from his mother. Surrounded by the extravagant decorations of the office, the ivory cigar lighter and the walnut list finder, it looked especially out of place.

“Why don’t you get an actual job?” he asked me. “Do something useful, for once.”

“Yes, bet that would beat laying around in a damn mansion, waiting for you to fuck me,” I hissed as I stared back at him, almost spitting the words out to him.

I waited for him to reply to that, see how he’d try and argue against the truth. Instead, his eyes went down from my shoulder to my hand, growing wider and more unnerved.

“Val… What happened to your arms?” he asked. My face softened. The horror in his voice was pretty comforting. It meant he worried. 

I frowned and looked away, hugging myself, but being careful to turn in such a way that the light of his desk lamp would show exactly what had happened. His chair screeched on the wooden floor when he pushed it back. His fingers traced the small red scabs that I still had, in little clusters, all along the side of my arms. I closed my eyes, and let out a little resigned sigh.

“… I had an accident.”

He got off the chair. “Don’t tell me—”

“Guess it was bound to happen, sooner or later.”

I was hoping he’d sigh, too, and kiss my scars, or pet my hair and click his tongue and tell me I needed to be more careful. Instead, he walked away.

“Whose car was it? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” he said, covering his eyes with one hand. “Good Lord, you’re truly a crazy, desperate little thing.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Cesar stared at me for a moment. And, in that moment, he might have believed me, just before deciding that he liked the idea of me trying to self-destruct for his own sake much more.

“I didn’t. I didn’t!”

It stung, the way he glanced at me, before he went on rubbing his temples. Pure, undiluted disgust. What I should have done was to tell him to fuck off, that I was being honest and that if he still loved me he would know when I teased and when I was telling the truth. Instead, I became nervous. I turned cowardly, and doubled down on being a crazy desperate little thing.

“I’m sorry. Alright?” I said, on the edge of a plea. “It’s just that… Cesar, darling, when you didn’t show up yesterday, I was so mad. And I needed something to take my mind off it, anything, and I saw this Eldorado, and I thought…” But I knew Cesar didn’t care for what I thought. “And I thought… That you might not love me anymore. Cesar, please, just tell me you still love me. However you wanna say it, just say it, please. You don’t know how much I need it.”

I shut my eyes, cursing myself, for being such a damn baby. Despite my anger, though, I hoped there would be a reward for my humiliation. A hand cupping my cheek, a little kiss on my head, a reassurance of any kind. I stayed still, waiting for it. It never came.

“Come on, Val, for goodness’ sake. You’re all take and no give,” he said tiredly. “All you want is to drain me and bleed me dry. You’re insatiable.”

Things were looking hopeless. Cesar sounded as cold as ice, far away from me, as if he had never even loved me in the first place. I refused to believe that it was the truth. I knew he loved me, I had all these memories to prove it. I had earned it. All I needed was for him to know how much I loved him.

“I know that the man’s supposed to be the one to make the proposal…” I said with a weak smile. “But if you asked me to marry you, Cesar, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

A last-ditch effort. But it wasn’t a lie. After all, if I married him, if we were tied to each other, eventually we might fall in love again. But then I thought of his ex-wife. Would she have thought the same, before their divorce? My mind went to my parents, arguing late into the night, and then to Janey, rocking her baby in her arms, telling me about Heath sleeping around with other girls. All the other girls that came before me, sitting in a line, like the goody girls in the changing room, one beside the other, fixing their makeup, waiting for their turn. All of us disposable. It was just a temporary thing. I would be another one for the collection. After all, what made me different? What made me special?

“What?”

I stopped the little chrome ball before it clicked again. Despite everything, I loved Cesar. I truly did. That was what made me special. But hadn’t his wife thought the same, the day of their wedding?

“I do love you,” I muttered. “If I didn’t love you, do you think I would want to marry you?”

He burst out laughing, a long, exaggerated, bitter laugh. 

“I’m tired of being your goddamn meal ticket, Val. I… I tried, but Lord –at least you could be honest with me!”

“But—”

“Get out of here,” he said, lighting a new cigar. “You make me sick.”

“Cesar, please—!”

His hand gripped my wrist before I could finish my thought. He dragged me out the office, dropped me right by the door, and slammed it behind me. I turned around and knocked and called his name. He didn’t answer. I told myself I was just making a fool of myself, crying out and calling him and throwing a fit. I brought my fists to my sides, and told myself that I was just making things worse. The secretary was right there, I realized. I shot her a glare. She lazily turned her attention back to her book, as if this was a common occurrence she was bored by.

I went down the stairs back to the ground floor of the Playhouse. I got out of the place, wandered off into the streets, and walked all the way past the rowdy corner junkies and the tired whores on Eighth Avenue and back to the Broslin. For once, I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t tired, I didn’t want anything, just to get away from it all. I only wanted to go home. But I wouldn’t find it with Cesar, not anymore. It truly felt like whatever he and I had between us had definitely rotted away, and I was just dragging the remains, smiling at it and kissing its festering cheek and sitting it upright when it slumped and pretending everything was alright. As if I was living in goddamn dreamland.

For so long I had thought I had earned his love fair and square. But, at the end of the day, I might just be unlovable.

Flicking off bits of chipped black nail polish, I waited for the light to cross the street. The noisy crowd passed me by, gently pushing me like a running stream. The answer came to me just as the red light changed. There were only two options now I had to decide whether to break up with him, or to give it time. If I let too much time pass, I knew he would be the one to end the relationship. After all, I was the one who always wore my heart on my sleeve, presented it on a silver platter for others to break… Well, not anymore. Even if I might still love Cesar, breaking up with him was my best shot to at least have a say in how to break my own heart.

And, despite this, it still made me furious to realize how I was, at least a little bit, still in love with him. If he suddenly turned back into the old Cesar, the one who had seen me and picked me up from the streets, like a fairytale princess, and taken me to his enchanted palace, then I would forgive and forget everything in the blink of an eye. I was so fucking weak. Realizing this led me to consider killing him, like I had done with Heath. That way I’d test it and see if it really managed to hurt me; to tell myself that this was not really love, that this was just a silly teenage crush. But I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t kill again. I couldn’t risk it. And besides, one thing was Heath –a deadbeat mechanic from the suburbs –and another thing entirely was Cesar –millionaire, sophisticated, well-connected, the sort of guy whose death would make the evening news. The sort of death that could spark an investigation.

Death was not an option. Breaking up... I could pick that one, and there would be no casualties. I’d be devastated, yes, but I’d get over it. I had gotten over Heath, after all. I had gotten over Jack, who hadn’t even been my boyfriend in the first place. I sniffed and wiped my nose, walking faster. It was just sensible. We wouldn’t go anywhere together, not unless one of us changed in some way. And I wouldn’t. I did everything I had to: I was loving, and devoted, and even tried being understanding and patient. It had gotten me nowhere. And I would stay nowhere, if I stayed with him. It was comfortable, still, I guess. I was used to this sort of life by now. But if I wanted something else, something more, I needed to stop being so complacent. It would take guts. And I could be gutsy. I could be strong, if I tried. So what if I ripped my own heart out and tore it apart and stomped on the pieces to show Cesar just what he had lost. Broken hearts are momentary pain, I repeated to myself. The loneliness I was feeling, waking up by his side, was not worth it. I could fix my own heart, stitch it back together into something pretty and presentable, in time for my next crush. Next time would be better. I would be smarter, with thicker skin. I would learn from this and come out wiser. If I kept that in mind, maybe it would hurt less.

My mother used to say that actions speak louder than words. Cesar told me he loved me. But he rarely showed it anymore. I rarely felt loved.

Maybe that was what had happened to her and to my father. A couple months of pure bliss, a wedding to remember, and a couple of months later they became strangers again. Wasn’t it fucked up? How could something as important as love wouldn’t last forever?

Still –I had to try. What else could I do?

“Don’t tell me that Cesar isn’t here,” I told his secretary before she could open her mouth. “Petey downstairs said he’d just arrived.”

“He left his coat in,” she said plainly. “But then he went back down. Unless you want to keep me company, your best bet is finding him somewhere around the dance floor.”

I was just about to walk the stairs back down to the dance floor, when a doubt popped into my mind. “How did you know about the Hulanicki?” I asked her. “Does he order a lot of lunches from there?”

“He took me there,” she said, her eyes fixed on the page. “Back when I was his sweetheart.”

“When was that?”

She finally glanced at me. “Before you.”

“When he was married?”

She didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t need to. She just passed the page.

Cesar had cheated on his wife. Was that it? Was that the reason he felt so detached lately, that he was really just cheating on me? The mere idea made my blood boil, of course, but there was also a sense of relief. If the problem was him, then that meant it wasn’t that I was unlovable: it was just that he was the wrong one for me. Then again, I hadn’t found any solid real proof of his cheating. It could very well had been that I was just imagining things. After all, he had cheated on his wife, and that didn’t necessarily mean he’d cheat on every single partner from then on. Right? That didn’t mean he’d cheat on me. Right?

He wouldn’t have told me about moving to Puerto Rico with him, about having two kids, a boy for him and a girl for me, if he hadn't had any thoughts of a future with me, after all.

Because Cesar’s committed, I thought as the music got louder, trying to argue myself out of breaking up with him. And his commitment, that was more than what I could say of most other men. Might be the only time I’d find that in a man, too. And yet, when I tried to think about my future with him… Well, he wasn’t there. I saw myself in a big, beautiful sunny villa, surrounded by swaying palm trees, full of hundreds and hundreds of blossoming white roses. Sitting in a wide living room, among the roses, on my own, leafing through a magazine. Picking up the phone to call him, getting an ‘I’ll be home late today, darling’. Eating alone. Swimming alone in the backyard pool. Wasting away the hours, watching TV and drinking white wine and popping pills and candy. And, when Cesar got home, what would we do? He didn’t watch TV, and he didn’t like the music, the movies, or anything I liked. When we had kids, I could already imagine our discussions with him disagreeing over how I raised them. It was scary, how easy it was to imagine him becoming less and less in love with me. I made an effort to focus on the perks of staying with him (financial stability, a big bedroom all for myself, good hearty breakfasts, a huge closet full of gorgeous dresses, an army of maids fit for a queen), but none of these things seemed all that nice after thinking about them for more than a few seconds.

I was used to being alone. I wanted that to change. More than anything, I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

As committed as Cesar was, so far he wasn’t any help making me feel less alone. Especially if I went along with his plans, keeping me away in a platinum cage outside the States. Hell, I didn’t even know Spanish.

Even worse, I thought about whether I could do any better; yeah, any better than Cesar, a successful, handsome, caring gentleman. Of course I couldn’t do better. If I eventually became a star (and despite how much I tried to believe in it, there was no guarantee of that, for sure), I’d have to travel to movie sets, to premieres, to interviews. I couldn’t do that if I was in Puerto Rico. And I would have even less of a chance to see Cesar. And, after all that, with the distance, he’d end up cheating on me. I was so certain of it, suddenly I got furious, as if it had happened already. There had to be something wrong with us, if I could imagine it so damn clearly. Maybe Cesar still loved me –but he didn’t like me at all.

There was still a job I had to clock in to. Cesar wasn’t immediately visible on the dance floor, so I had to assume he was somewhere on the booths, talking with his friends and business associates. Not that it mattered much. My mind was made. I would get a better job, a well-paying one, not one keeping me hand to mouth. I would get a better job, and a place of my own. I would find myself someone good for me, someone who liked me. Someone I could be myself with.

I told myself all of this like a mantra, a promise to myself, to distract myself from the decision of breaking up with Cesar –who had given me so much, who had loved me so dearly.

I made a plan in my mind, a sort of script. I could not show any weakness. All my words had to be delivered firmly and without a shadow of a doubt. Much like at the auditions, really, except this wasn’t gonna be pretend.

My reflection stared back in the changing room mirror. I had made up my mind. Now, I had to trust I would stick to my choice when the moment of truth arrived.

The other goody girls had already changed into their uniforms, styling their hair, doing their makeup, sharing the latest news. It figured I should do the same. I rolled out a tube of red lipstick, and applied it slowly, carefully. I covered it with lip gloss. I took out my palette and brushed my eyelids with pink dust, and drew a thick black line over the edge of my eyelashes, before applying the mascara. And, once my cheeks were rosy and glittery and I was looking pretty again, I stared at my reflection and forced a smile, grinning wide, in the exact way that Cesar disliked.

And then I started crying again.

 “What’s the matter, Val? Stabbed yourself in the eye with the wand again?”

I wiped the warm tears from under my eyes before I messed up the eyeliner. “No, I’m… I’m going to break up with Cesar—”

“Why? Did his wife find out about you two?” Eileen asked.

“What?”

“You dumbass. He’s divorced,” Suzy said. “It’s all above board.” 

“Then why did you split?”

“We haven’t yet,” I mumbled. “I’m leaving him—”

“You got someone better?”

I shook my head and sniffed. “No… And I don’t think… I ever will.”

“Then why the hell are you splitting?”

“I just… I don’t think he loves me.”

“So what?” Suzy said with a shrug. “As long as he keeps you on the payroll…”

“I just wish I knew why he got cold on me…” I sobbed. “He used to want to spend all his time with me. We used to have fun.”

“Men get bored eventually, Val. You’re not the first—”

“And won’t be the last.”

“But still… He missed our anniversary. I had reminded him of it. I don’t know how he didn’t realize how important this was to me. How much he mattered to me,” I said, swallowing my tears, shutting my eyes and focusing all my strength into gulping down the sadness. “I don’t know why he got so angry at me, when I said I would marry him.”

“Marriage?”

“Oof—”

“He got angry?” Eileen asked. “And you really don’t know why?”

“Let me put it in a way you’ll understand: you wouldn't marry a man just for being rich…” Suzy said in a high mocking voice, gesturing with a nail file. “But, my goodness, doesn't it help?”

I stepped back. “I’m not a gold-digger.”

“Right. And you just didn’t know that the guy was loaded.”

“Please, girls, I think we should go a bit softer on Val,” Nancy said gently. “I mean… You can't bang the guy and cash his checks and at least not try to believe you love him.”

The other goody girls laughed. I blinked and scanned their colorful faces, trying to find someone, anyone, who could back me up. Something to keep me grounded.

“What’s so difficult to understand? You just gotta sell your ass,” Suzy said, pulling down her lower eyelid to brush her eyelashes with the greasy black wand. “You’re basically already selling it to King Cesar, up in his ivory tower.”

“Everyone here does it,” Nancy added with a shrug. “It’s just what you do to get a little bit ahead. You know, nobody’s gonna judge you for it.”

I frowned at her. My anger was already simmering. “You don’t know that.”

Eileen chuckled. “Those without sin cast the first stone, yadda yadda—”

“That’s not me,” I snapped. “I’m not a damn slut.”

There was a sudden silence. The heavy thumping of the music that was already starting sounded like faraway thunder, announcing a coming storm.

Suzy turned around, and shot me a glare. “What, you think you’re so much better than us?”

I did. But I didn’t want to say so.

“You really do, huh?” she insisted, getting off her chair, walking up to me with her arms crossed. “If you’re too good for this, then why are you here? Why aren’t you living the high life, instead of slumming it with the rest of us?”

“You think I want this?”

Suzy scoffed. “I think you’re just lying to yourself, baby.”

That was it. I gave her leg a hard kick. She opened her eyes wide, in pure outraged shock, and pushed me off the chair. I stood up –and without hesitating for a second –I shoved her to the floor, straddled her waist, grabbed her by the hair, and knocked her head against the concrete. She screamed. The other girls started yelling, moving back, forming a circle around us. Suzy snarled and reached out to grab my own hair –but I bit her hand –she screeched –and I punched her, first her big mouth that would never shut up, and then her nose that was constantly bleeding and now finally had a good reason for it, and I was almost about to grab her by the neck and start to choke her out… Realizing what I was about to do, someone, maybe Nancy, tried to stop me and grab my arm –but I elbowed myself free. I was just getting started—

“What’s happening here?” Sally cried, coming in the changing room, plucking hair pins from between her teeth. “Jesus Christ –what’s going on, Val?”

As soon as I heard her voice I turned around –and Suzy pushed me off her –and I fell square on my butt on the floor. Nancy and Eileen helped Suzy back to her feet. She pushed them away too, and rushed to look at herself in the mirror.  She let out a furious roar.

“You little fucking beast—!”

“Please! Girls!” Sally begged, standing in between us, for our own safety, I had to assume. “There has to be another way to settle this that doesn’t involve punching each other to death!”

“She started it!” I cried.

“You threw the first punch!”

“What was I supposed to do, just smile and take it!?”

“Please! Let’s just talk about what happened, okay?” Sally insisted. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Suzy’s just looking for a fight,” I said quickly. “She’s been jealous I’m with Cesar ever since I got here—”

“And Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou here,” Suzy said, voice trembling with rage, as she wiped the blood off her upper lip. “Has convinced herself she’s really head over heels for the boss.”

“Oh… Well,” Sally said, facing me, turning the hair pins in her hand. “We all know that. And besides, you’re still young. You’ll learn.”

“What?”

Sally sighed, and took a tissue out of her handbag to hand to Suzy, who dabbed at the dripping blood of her nose with it.

“Listen, Val, I commend your optimism,” she said gently, making her way past me to her side of the vanity. “But life’s not as pretty as you think.”

“Men aren’t with girls for their personality—”

“Whoever says they are is trying to sell you something—”

“And love is something you keep for your parents and your future kids.”

“Why do you all think you even know me?” I yelled. “Just because I refuse to be a whore like the rest of you—!”

A few girls started yelling at me, but I didn’t hear them. I focused on Sally, hoping she would back me up. She stared back at me, looking me in the eye. There wasn’t any support there. I immediately felt ashamed.

“Sal, I –I didn’t mean you—”

“Didn’t you?” she said coldly, turning around and brushing her hair. “It’s not like I haven’t accepted a couple gifts now and again for a little favor.”

I blinked, unsure I had heard quite right. “Wait… Really?”

“Enough talk, girls!” Jess shouted as she entered the changing room, clapping to get our attention. “Those goodies are not gonna be sold on their own!”

“Wait, Sal –what do you mean, a little favor—?”

“A handjob for ten, a blowjob for twenty,” Sally replied, scattering the hair pins onto the vanity. “What d’you think, Val? Think you could do better than that?”

“But—”

“My, I didn’t know you were so concerned with purity,” she chuckled bitterly, and retouched her pink lipstick. “Bet your parents are so proud of you right now.”

I stood beside her, watching in disbelief. Sally huffed, stood up and pushed me aside, leaving for the bathroom before I could even follow her out the changing room. Instead, I was stuck facing Jess, who had my goody tray and a sermon ready at hand. Suzy was standing by her side with a smug smirk.

“Miss Val, tell me: are you happy with your job here?”

I braced myself for the cut to my paycheck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Then I suggest you avoid starting catfights with your coworkers. You’ll see that it is a very quick way to get sacked.”

I grit my teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Suzy shot me a glare, rubbing the back of her head. Bet she was pissed that a little bruise hadn't been good enough a reason to get me fired straight away.

“I suggest you go back to work, and focus on doing a good job,” Jess said. “You’ve not been at the top of your game lately, Miss Val.”

I gave them both a little smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

I yanked the tray from her hands, elbowed Suzy out of my way, and got back to the dance floor. Trying to bash her head in had been a bit of an impulsive thing to do, but it made me feel a little better. It wasn’t that what bothered me, really. I was more concerned with Sally’s glare. She had been the only one among the goody girls I had grown to consider as something of a friend. Something told me we weren’t gonna be friends anymore, after that.

My nails danced over the cellophane bags. I barely had enough money for a drink, Jess was surely keeping a close eye on me now after my little stunt at the changing room, and all I wanted was something to take the edge off. But I told myself I needed to stay lucid and focused to confront Cesar that night. I spent the first hour or so doing my job, getting some sales, so I could make sure Jess wouldn’t be on my back. After she left for her break, I got away from the dance floor and wandered around the booths, trying to catch a glimpse of his smart fitted suit and well-groomed mustache.

Finding him was easy. Flanked by a few of his friends, having the most fun I’ve seen him having in a while, Cesar laughed, throwing his head back, and dropped the ashes of his cigar in his empty glass, over the melting ice cubes.

“... But you know, when one dates eighteen-year-olds, one pays the price—”

“And what price would that be?” I asked him.

Once I showed up he just glanced at me, as if he had been expecting me to appear by his side all along.

“And I’m nineteen,” I muttered between teeth. “Though I guess you don’t care much about that, one way or another.”

Cesar sighed, put his cigar between his teeth, and tucked a couple bills under the glass. I eyed it carefully, knowing that it would get all wet and wrinkled by the time one of the busboys came to collect it.

“Come on, darling, let’s dance—”

“I’m not here to dance, ‘darling’,” I hissed back at him. “I’m here to work. Doing something useful, for once, you know?”

He stretched his lips to the sides. Not really a smile nor a grimace: just a sort of half acknowledgement that he had heard me. “How’s the scars?”

The tip of his fingers stroked my arm as he looked down. I closed my eyes. It didn’t hurt, not even a little bit.

“… Kinda stings.”

Cesar clicked his tongue. His face was so close to mine that I could almost hear his soft breathing, even under the loud music. “Val, Val…”

When I opened my eyes again, I was inches away from resting my head on his shoulder, his arm resting on my hip, as he always did when he guided me to the dance floor. Even while angry, my body just leaned towards him, craving his touch.

“You and your little antics,” he almost chuckled. “You’re lucky you’re such a lovely little thing.”

Otherwise, someone might just get tired of it really quick.

“You did me a favor right there,” Cesar said against my ear, his lips grazing my curls. “I was getting tired of the bunch.”

He turned me around, taking my hand and giving me a little spin. That was, sadly, just enough to break my pout. I barely managed to bring it back just in time for him to pull my hand to lay his shoulder, lovingly stroking the thin scars on my knuckles with his thumb. Then I was weak again. I looked back up at his face, hoping not to see what I was expecting.

“You know, Val,” he said with a smile and a sigh, cupping my cheek in his warm familiar hand. “Seeing your face can really turn my day around.”

There was love in Cesar’s brown, glittering eyes. It was undeniable, as real as the warmth of his body, as the sweat running down my back. I stared down at the shimmering colors of the cellophane bags hanging from my neck, as if that way I could tell myself I simply had no feelings left for him. As if his compliments weren’t as effective as they always were.

“We’re done, Cesar,” I blurted quietly before I could change my mind.

He frowned. “What?”

I could still lie and save this, I automatically told myself. This didn’t have to end. This could still be fixed. A little more time, and a little more faith, and then there’d never be a single moment of doubt that he loved me. But then, the hand that was holding mine started to squeeze hard enough to hurt.

“I said we’re done, Cesar,” I repeated, raising my voice.

He let out a little chuckle. “Please, Val, you’re acting like a child—”

“That’s just the sort of thing I’m done with, Cesar,” I said, trying to pull away, my hand slipping from his grip. “I’m tired of you dismissing me, like I’m some stupid little baby you can boss around… Let’s just get this over with.”

“I miss one dinner, and you act like it’s the end of the world!”

“It’s not just the dinner!” I cried. “It’s the dinner –and my birthday –and you not picking me up from the station –and you never being there –and how you never want us to do anything together besides going dancing and fucking and having me listen to all your boring shit –and you know what, I’m sick of it!”

He took a deep breath and grabbed my wrist. “Val, listen to me. Listen.”

“Let go—”

“Remember Puerto Rico?” he insisted, pulling me closer to him. “Yes, you do. Remember what I said. We could be happy there, don’t you think?”

“Cesar—”

“You said that if I proposed, you’d accept in a heartbeat. I remember that,” he said, his voice syrupy-sweet, so different to the way he was grabbing me. “So?”

That got me to listen. I blinked, frozen in place.

“Would you marry me, Val?”

I turned and glanced around me, completely lost, unable to even ask myself if I had heard him correctly –I had –or if he was joking –he wasn’t. Cesar was being perfectly earnest. What’s more, he was convinced I would say yes. Because I would have said yes. Cesar knew perfectly well how much I dreamed of a beautiful wedding, of a picture-perfect life with someone who loved me. And yet –did he? Did he, truly, when he popped the question just as I was trying to break up with him, in a crowded nightclub, surrounded by people dancing, while on the clock? A part of me said that his declaration, in the spur of the moment, could be seen as romantic. Another part of me, the one that actually had some sense left, said he was bullshitting me. I had no way of knowing whether he really meant it, or if, after three months of being together, he’d divorce me like he did with his ex-wife.

So much for commitment. Looking back up into his eyes, though, and seeing how certain he was I would say yes, I realized something else. I was still pretty young, but this might just be the only time in my life someone would ever love me enough to want to marry me. If I didn’t say yes, and I did break up with Cesar, it wouldn’t be like when I broke up with Heath: I would keep thinking about what would have happened, if I had made a different choice. Regret might just eat me alive. That old line of reasoning came back: maybe if I just waited this one out, married him and gave him a year or two more, Cesar would love me again, like he used to.

But maybe I was just fooling myself.

We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. If saying no to a loveless marriage meant I would be alone for the rest of my life…

“I said we’re done, Cesar,” I said, for the last time, as coldly as I could. “I don’t want to see you again.”

I finally managed to pull my arm away from him. He was too stunned to stop me. I turned around, and thought of going into the changing room and taking a break, before realizing I was already crying again and wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by gossiping girls.

“Val!”

Wiping the tears off my eyes, still walking away, I looked over my shoulder. Cesar was trying to make his way to me through the crowd. I hurried towards the bathrooms.

“Val!”

I finally reached the women’s restrooms, skipped the line and locked myself in. I left the tray on the floor, sat on the toilet, and bawled like a baby.

“Val! Val!” I heard him knocking on the door.

“Go away!”

He kept yelling for a couple minutes more. I stayed quiet, biting down so hard I got a pain in my jaw. Cesar cursed me, called me names, but I remained silent. Then he apologized, and begged me to come out, and said he would make it all better. That almost got me. But I waited a bit longer. And, with a grumble and the click of his ivory lighter, I heard his echoing steps leaving the bathroom. Only when I couldn’t hear him anymore I could breathe freely again.

It was done. I had broken up with him, and was alone, really alone, once more.

Still crying, feeling the tension of the anger and the sheer despair hurting my neck and my arms and my hips, I closed my hand in a fist and banged it against the wall. I threw a fit, hitting and kicking the walls that were closing in on me, making me feel even smaller, even more powerless. I just about stopped short of screaming. I didn’t want to, but I kept thinking of the villa and all the white roses, the pool in the backyard, the palm trees against the blue sky, and Cesar’s soft hands running over my back, the tickle of his mustache on my knee, the quiet restrained sound of his laugh… All the things I lost. We might just have been able to make it. Be happy together. I could have gotten used to feeling lonely. For him, I might have tried.

But it was too late. The choice was made. I didn’t take the chance. There would be no prize. Just the bland empty comfort of safety.

After a while I finally managed to calm down a bit. I told myself I wouldn’t do what I did when Heath cheated on me. I had taken the initiative, after all. I’ve made a choice and it was all my doing. Regrets or not, I was in control. But then, after the shift was over and I got back to the Broslin, my palms stinging from the bruises, and finally realized just how truly exhausted I was for once, I started sobbing and I kept on sobbing, all night through, cursing at myself for being so weak. As if it would help anything, I went over every single fight we had, every moment I had felt unloved, and I repeated to myself that I was right. And I really was. But that didn’t change in any way how I felt.

I know I should have killed Cesar right away. That would have really made me feel better. For a long time I really wondered if it just might have been worth getting locked up in prison for.

Next day I didn’t go to his office and ask if he was there. I went to work, as if nothing had happened. I sold some goodies, had a drink, stayed silent in the changing room, noticing but not commenting on Sally’s sideways glance. Jamie, Ernie and Colin asked me about details of my breakup with Cesar, and I told them to fuck off. From there on, it was all the usual motions. I was waiting for the inevitable moment in which Jess would come up to me and tell me that Cesar said I was fired. It never came. Next day I came back to work, and Jess said nothing to me, and Cesar was nowhere to be found on the dance floor. I wondered if he was avoiding me, or if this was just like he always was, fickle with his public appearances. Playing hard to get. And during all this time I stayed available, ready with a smile and a sales pitch, selling the little cellophane bags, and looking around in case my now-ex decided to show up and apologize and ask me for another chance. I went back and forth on whether or not I would agree for us to try again.

Cesar never approached me with a new offer, though, so it was, like so often it was with me, another fantasy. I enjoyed these delusions too much, smiling to myself, thinking of how he’d say he was so sorry, and that this time it would be better, and he would embrace and kiss me and prove that what we needed was just a little shock to the system, to prove the relationship was alive and well after all. For a whole week, I kept feeding the little fantasy, staying around a bit late after sunrise, while the cleaning lady broomed away the shimmering confetti, waiting for him to come down the stairs, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. My fairytale prince.

And then the week passed, and it was back to reality, and another week passed, and I hadn’t seen Cesar, not even heard of him. If I wasn’t so proud and convinced he had to be the one to make the first step, I would have gone up the stairs to his office and demanded to meet with him. I didn’t. I had broken up with him, after all. And sure as hell I wasn’t gonna beg for him to take me back.

I downed a glass of rum and coke at the Playhouse bar. Why I drank rum and coke back then, I can’t tell for sure. I didn’t even like it that much. I just liked the syrupy aftertaste of the soda, but nothing about rum felt good anymore. 

“Hey, baby—!” Jamie startled me, showing up by my side, without his usual posse to my surprise.

I groaned. “God, what is it now?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Val, it’s nothing half as grisly as last time…” he said chipperly. “I got a little job for you.”

 Last time I did Jamie a favor I had to get rid of the body of Max Morlacchi, a fashion designer who had OD’d downstairs. Half of Jamie’s bonus, for making sure nobody connected his death to his night out at the Playhouse. It had been a risky job, but at least I’d gotten to have a ride in his Blackhawk. Such a pity, when I had to let it fall along with its owner into the river.

“Elliot and his pals have the VIP room for tonight,” Jamie explained. “And they’re needing a waitress.”

“Jamie, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I’ve already asked Kit and Ollie to do it, and they’re not gonna budge...”

“And why do you think I will?”

“Listen, you know I can’t be in the same room as Elliot,” Jamie said. “He’s gonna get absolutely wasted, and try something on me, and his fiancée will freak out, and he’ll say I was the one making the moves—”

“That’s not my problem.”

Jamie gave me a pout and brought his hands together as if in a prayer. “Please, Val. Have a shred of sympathy for a poor working man...”

I let out a deep sigh. Tips had been few and far between lately, and I could always use some of that bonus Jamie offered in exchange for my help. He noticed me considering it, and smiled: to him, it was as if I had already said yes.

“But –Jamie, listen, I’m not a waitress –I’m a goody girl—”

“You’re whatever people tell you to be. And now, you’re a waitress. And a goody girl,” he added, his hands on my shoulders, gripping in a way I knew he hoped was comforting but only came out as forceful. “Besides, they might need some extra stuff to make it through the night.”

“ I’m gonna need some extra stuff.”

“Jess’ll understand if a couple goodies go missing.”

I sighed. “How much is there for me?”

“Look, I’m feeling generous. I can give you half my bonus, if you take care of it the whole night.”

“Seventy-five percent,” I demanded. “And we’re talking.”

“I’m not feeling that generous!”

“Then you’ll have to find someone else.”

In the end Jamie handed me the key to one of the rooms in the basement, and with that he turned around, put on his happy face, and went back to the squeaky group of golden-wrapped dancers with open arms. I turned the key in my hand, feeling its warm weight.

Behind a smoked-glass door, beyond a narrow staircase, there was a dark hallway with seven doors covered by a heavy curtain, all leading to a different room. I had been told a few stories about it by the rest of the crew at the Playhouse: the secrecy of the VIP rooms meant the customers felt particularly eased into doing stuff they wouldn’t even do upstairs. They were all super exclusive, and of which most regulars of the nightclub didn’t even know about. Each room was themed around a certain color (the blue one had been where Morlacchi had died, and the only one I had been in so far), but the true crown jewel was the one at the very end of the hallway, the one which my key would open. It was a dark room, with all-black furniture, that was barely lit by the light of chandeliers reflecting on the mirrors that covered the walls, the ceiling, the floor. I glanced around me, back into the eyes of the Tiffanys multiplied around me, feeling as if I had been thrown back at the audition I had had at the beginning of summer. There were more of me looking down from the roof, and one with the soles of her shoes glued to mine, and for a moment I was amused by the head-spinning effect of being everywhere at the same time.

The wonder was short-lived. The place was crawling with stylish people in garish revealing outfits, just a little bit more out-there than those of the regulars upstairs at the dancefloor. There weren't a lot of guests, but just like me they were multiplied by the mirrors facing each other all around us, which made the room look infinite. Still, despite the funhouse effect, it didn’t change the fact that it was a bunch of stuck-up fuckers I would have to babysit for the rest of the night. And, by the quick glance a couple of women shot me, they were just as happy to see me as I was to see them.

“Oh…” said Elliot, the man in snakeskin boots, his arms wrapped around a woman barely covered in white feathers, as he glanced at me up and down. “I thought Marty would be serving us tonight.”

“Marty’s occupied at the moment.”

“What about Kit?” the feathered woman (I think her name was Maxine) asked with a frown. Now the rest of the guests were turning to me, expecting answers. “Kit’s always free for us…”

“He’s… He’s engaged in other matters, as well.”

Ronnie lit a thick cigar, raising his eyebrows. A woman at the back, Jordan, let out the deepest sigh. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Apart from the rhythmic thumping from upstairs, there was a bunch of loudspeakers blaring disco music. But there was silence. I felt everyone, even the reflections, staring at me.

Someone put a Gloria Gaynor song, and not even one of her good ones. They didn’t really need any music, just a beat to dance to, something to fill the silence.

“Hey, Miss Sourpuss,” Ronnie said between teeth, grabbing my hips and pulling me against him. “It’s a party, haven’t you noticed? Would it kill you to lighten up?”

He was getting far too handsy already for my taste. “I’m not here for that, mister.”

“Then what’re you here for?”

“To… To serve you—”

“Well, I know a way you can do that—”

Enough was enough. I shoved him aside, with such bad luck that he tripped and fell head-first on a little vinyl side table, spilling an ashtray and a few champagne glasses.

“You bitch!” Ronnie yelled. He touched his nape, and when he brought out his hand it was just a little bit stained with red.

“What the fuck!?”

“Who do you think you are!?”

I wanted to run away. But if I did, then it would be official –I would be sacked… And as far as I knew, no waiter nor goody girl nor busboy had ever been officially sacked from the place –and I didn’t want to be the first. After a long night of partying, surely the guests would forget all about it anyways…

So I stayed quiet on the sidelines, with my back against the mirrored corner, becoming as small as I could, while Maxine and Jordan went to help the man back up to his feet. Soon enough they forgot I was even there, and were drinking and dancing as if nothing had happened. I kept staring at the back of Ronnie’s head, at the trickling line of blood going down his neck and staining his white shirt…

About half an hour into the party the drugs began to kick in, and everyone soon began moving more loosely, making less of an effort to look cool. A couple of them snapped their fingers at me, calling me for their supply, and I delivered. After that, things became messy. People tripped and mumbled in attempts at singing, women screamed in amusement when their partners grabbed at them, men kicked each other in their clumsy dance steps. I finally grinned. It was amusing, especially since the place was relatively small (at least compared to the dance floor upstairs) and everyone was clearly making their best effort to take as much room as they could, to be the center of attention. Me, I watched in silence, smoking by myself. A few other guests were also resting and smoking quietly on the sticky black sofa, some of them choosing to engage in some heavy petting. Soon enough they would all end up shedding their clothes, I thought, and going all out. That was what the VIP room was for, apparently. Orgies for the rich, the ones who wouldn’t want to mix with the riffraff.

“ I said, darling, be mine... It won't take us very long, ” Gaynor sang. “ Darling, be mine... We could have a love so strong... ”

“Hey, you!” Maxine called me with a hand gesture, her bangles somehow clanking loud enough to be heard over the music. “Gimme a light.”

 I did as I was told. Her hand was shaking, though, shaking bad enough and holding the cigarette tight enough that her fingers got too close to the flame. Maxine let out a shriek and dropped the cigarette.

“You burned me, you little fuck!” she yelled.

I grit my teeth, said nothing, looked down and bent to pick the cigarette. Next thing I knew Maxine pressed her platform shoe against my butt and pushed me. The tray I had been holding pretty unsteadily finally fell to the mirrored floor, and coke and ludes and a bunch of little cellophane bags and boxes spread to the guests’ feet.

“Look what you did, now!” said another woman, maybe Carole.

“What a damn waste.”

“God, I thought the service would be better—”

“Must be a new girl, y’know—”

“Where are you from, darling?” Mimi asked me, swinging a glass of champagne in her hand. For a moment I thought I could see something similar to sympathy in her eyes. “The Heights? Bronx?”

I felt rather dizzy, and having all those people towering over me, their faces shadowed, confused me too much to think my reply over. “… Jersey.”

Why did I say that? I still don’t know. But they all burst out in a loud explosion of laughter.

“Oh, that explains everything!”

“You’re a long way from home, Dorothy!”

“Hey –ice,” Carole ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing at her drink. “Make it quick, would you?”

I stood up and stumbled to the large piece of ice that was already melting fast, dripping over the overflowing aluminum box it came in. Grabbing the icepick, I broke it as small as I could, shoved the chunks into the bucket, and went towards Carole and offered it to her. She gave me a glance.

“So? What’re you waiting for, Jersey? Put some ice in it.”

I had forgotten the tongs by the aluminum box. Taking a deep breath, I dipped my hand in the bucket to pick up the ice myself—

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” Carole yelled. “Don’t use your hands! I have no idea where they’ve been!”

At this I could only laugh. These people were fucking like the world was ending, snorting enough coke to fill a sandbox, and she was worried about where my hands had been? Maybe it was the dizziness, the way that I was already losing the little patience I had left, or maybe the fact that it was just a very funny thing indeed. But Carole didn’t seem to find it funny at all.

“Stop it! Stop laughing!” she insisted, and smacked my temple. “God –you’re insane!”

The smack wasn’t hard. What stinged, though, was the shame. No, not the shame... The anger. I looked up at her for once, at her face. The sweat had smeared her sparkly purple eyeshadow, and she had twisted her pretty features into something out of the Looney Toons. I thought about the line of blood going down Ronnie’s neck, the man in the white shirt, and focused my sight in the wrinkled space in between Carole’s furrowed eyebrows. All these people were so beautiful, so lucky, so rich, and still they found reasons to bitch and complain.

I didn’t have to think too much about it after that.

I raised the icepick over my head –and with one quick swoop I pierced right between her eyes. She barely gasped. I had managed to shove it deep, so I pulled it out with some effort –a thin stream of blood trickled down out of the wound –and did it again, this time stabbing her eye. And again. And again. And by the fifth time Carole’s partner, Gavin, who had been pawing at her all this time, realized what was going on and let out a scream. I kept stabbing her forehead with the icepick until the hole in it was big enough to stick your whole finger in it. Then I looked up at Gavin, who had managed to call a few other people’s attention –not many of them, though –since most were still too busy partying the night away. I stood up and, before anyone could say anything, I stabbed him –this time in the neck, shutting him up for good. And then—

Well, then I went all out. I went for hearts and stomachs next, of everyone and anyone who stood next to me and hadn’t had a taste yet. When half of the people at the party were already lying on the mirrored floor, in a pool of their own blood, there were still guests dancing and making out. I took a small breather, sinking on the black sofa, picking up one of the champagne bottles and guzzling down what was left in it. The kills soon had me in a state of sheer euphoria, my hands trembling, adrenaline pumping wildly. My weariness was mixing in with my thrill, the heaviness in my limbs along with the lightness in my head, making quite the sensory cocktail. The thumping bass in the music echoed and boomed under my feet, I could feel my heartbeat throbbing on my skin, there was a light giddiness buzzing behind my eyes. I considered taking a break, just to bask in the bliss of the fresh kills… But then I realized, if I stopped, then whoever was left alive would know it had been me.

And, besides, the night was still young.

I picked myself up from the sofa, turning the bloodied icepick in my hand, pushing my hair back and off my sweaty face. Just for good measure, I sucked on two of my fingers, pressed them against the coke someone had left nicely lined on a little mirror over the vinyl side table, and rubbed it on my gums like it was powdered sugar. It was the really good stuff, the sort of pure blow they would only bring out for a special occasion.

And –shaking the exhaustion off –with a sudden rush of energy going through me –like an electric shock –I went on, taking my time now to fully savor it. I stabbed Ronnie in the back, pushing the icepick in as deep as I could, the tip of the metal scraping against his bones. I grinned –it was unlike anything I had done before –it was as if I could feel things so much differently than usual –as if my senses were heightened. When I pulled it out, the stain was spreading in his white shirt like a blooming flower. It would have been pretty to watch as it soaked completely, but I didn’t have the time for it. Stuff to do, sights to see. I went to the next person, Elliot, whom I recalled Jamie hating so much –going for the throat again –now going deep enough so the other end of the icepick could come out of the other side of her neck. It made a nice rather squishy meaty sound, like when preparing lamb skewers. There were four or five people left, all of them now aware, to a certain degree, of what was happening. Unfortunately for them they were all against the opposite wall to the door, and apart from a couple screams and pleas, they were too shocked or high to know how to react. I mean –I couldn’t blame them, now, could I?

I pushed two women to the side and bashed one of their heads against the wall, shattering it in a spiderweb-like pattern. Broken mirrors meant seven years of bad luck, but I don’t know –I was feeling pretty lucky then. I stabbed both of them, their hot blood splattering me, and something about it –can’t say what, exactly –felt particularly wonderful. I wiped my forehead with my elbow, smearing it all over my face. I caught a glance of myself in the mirrors in front of me, my thrilled eyes, my wide grin, blood dripping off me like I had been caught in the rain. It was the happiest I had seen myself in quite a while.

A man who had been cornered (Kenny, or maybe Tony?) was trying to crawl away. I sank my icepick in his leg –he squealed like a pig –and I quickly got up back to my feet and pushed the loudspeaker on top of him, smashing him flat. I had never seen that happen before either, and it was quite a funny sight, like a cake being dropped and all its filling spilling out. But then I noticed movement on the mirrors on the walls, and saw the last person alive –Maxine, the one who had kicked me and made me drop the tray, the woman in platform shoes –screaming her head off and running out the door.

I ran after her, wielding the icepick, panting, drawing quick sharp breaths between teeth. She tried to run up the stairs, but she was clearly too tipsy to keep her balance. Her shoes were too bulky to go up quickly enough, and soon enough she tripped and fell down the steps, breaking her nose, rolling towards me –and as soon as she landed at my feet –I made sure she wouldn’t get up again.

The party upstairs went on. Nobody heard the screams.

My heart was beating so fast. I took a moment to catch my breath again. I hadn’t had that much excitement in years.

Once I calmed down a bit, I went back to the VIP room. I picked up one of the last bottles of champagne and found Ronnie’s forgotten cigar, a few inches away from the growing pool of blood. I picked it up, raised it to my lips, and took a deep drag, closing my eyes. A little treat to myself, since Ronnie wouldn’t have any use for it anymore. Then, I made my way out of the party, upstairs, through the dancefloor and back out onto the bright streets of Manhattan.

The late-night subway was hot and dirty and rickety like always, and I was still tired and hungry; but now my blood was pumping, and I had a big smile on my face. The grimy windows still managed to reflect back to me the image of my wide-open eyes, bright red smeared over my pink eyeshadow –a deeper, richer tone, not gentle and pretty anymore. I was riding the high of the last rush of adrenaline, and as I closed my hand, I could perfectly remember the feeling of sinking the icepick into soft flesh. I sighed. It was ecstasy. It was exhilarating. It was pure pleasure. It didn’t matter then that I was back to being on my own. 

I sold the rest of my gifts, and with the money I went to the diner around the corner, and treated myself to a huge, hearty lunch. Then I bought a big red pleather suitcase, packed up, and that same afternoon I left New York. Even though I thought it very unlikely that anyone back at work would ever report me to the police, it still felt like the right thing to do… Of course, I lost my job. Or at least I think I did; I didn’t return the next day, just in case. I didn’t see Cesar again. But if I had to leave the Playhouse at some point (and our last chat had made it clear that it would be sooner than later), despite the anonymity, this was the best way I could ever do that –in a blaze of gore and glory.

[twenty-qs]

Why are people so stupid about adaptations. There are good, bad, and mediocre adaptations. Bad adaptations do not mean “but this isn’t how I imagined it!” Bad adaptations mean you missed the point of the original, AND ALSO it’s a boring story. The ending of the Soul Eater anime was total garbage. The point of the original Soul Eater is that Maka conquers the isolating fear of ‘madness’ by confiding in others and uniting together (in the form of super cool shounen battle powers). That’s the whole concept of weapon-meister teams and soul resonance! The whole show is built around the idea that we are better together!!! But in the TV version, Maka conquers the supernatural embodiment of fear by…being…afraid? And secretly being a weapon all along? So she never needed anyone else’s help, as it turns out, and she wins the day by screaming a lot and then?? throwing a punch????

This ending commits the cardinal sin. Not by diverging from the manga, no. By being A BAD FUCKING STORY.

It’s totally fine in my opinion to change things. I find it interesting. Plus, maybe you’ll get a different demographic hooked onto the series, and now you have a whole new generation of fans of the original. It’ll be a sad day when the American TV industry turns into the anime industry equivalent of copying every popular manga panel by panel. Animators don’t want to spend their lives making someone else’s manga panels look pretty in motion. They want to tell their own stories too—why else did Soul Eater and the first anime version of Fullmetal Alchemist happen, after all? It certainly wasn’t to make money. It’s because the animation team wanted to HAVE FUN. Same with creatives in TV and film—that’s why they call them CREATIVES, not adaptives.

I don’t fault Studio Bones for going buck wild. I’d want to do the same thing, too, if I had the resources they did. They just happened to be bad at turning existing IP into original content, that’s all.

Adaptations that are also original are HARD. It’s a different beast from either creating totally original stories, or sticking to the script. Studio Bones has actually created several really good original anime, and is famously excellent at faithful adaptations, so it’s food for thought that they flopped so hard when they tried doing the middle path.

But despite the risks, I do want to promote people who try to take existing stories and make something new out of them. Because sometimes, even when you change things, you get a GOOD STORY. And a good story that’s a fresh spin on something is infinitely more interesting than just a good VERSION of the same old story. For instance, I have zero interest in watching the first season of the Last of Us. Absolutely nill. I’ve gone through that emotional wringer once via the game, I’m not doing it again. Same with the Jujutsu Kaisen movie. I was really hoping they’d add some original content in the adaptation, but no. Nothing. Just the same dialogue, plot points, fight scenes. Maybe a few cameos from upcoming manga arcs. I watched it in theaters with a friend, and couldn’t help but wonder why I bothered spending money on the thing. In contrast, I LOVED the 2022 Batman movie. Never seen a Batman so pathetic, and yet still telling a brilliant story about breaking cycles of revenge and violence. I eat that shit up with a spoon. And of course just look at the Umbrella Academy.

You know what a soulless cash grab really is? It’s sticking to the script.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you really don’t want to get upset at jungkook, but you are.

> fluff, angst / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: uh lots of crying? T_T

note: my brain isn’t working very well right now but i was hoping writing could help me get back on track </3

+ forgot to say there’s a quick reference from this drabble ^^

—

“baby, are you crying?”

“i’m just-” you pause. your tears leak freely from your eyes, and you sniffle loudly against your will. “annoyed. i’m really so fucking annoyed at you right now, so please go away.”

jungkook leans his forehead against the door, fighting the urge to give his head a good smack for being so stupid. but he can’t do that when you’re sitting on the other side as well. you’d probably think that he’s throwing a tantrum, and . . . he doesn’t even want to imagine what would happen after that.

“but you’re crying.” he protests weakly, sounding rather pained. and he is, but he did this to myself.

“just leave me alone before i get mad.”

you don’t sound threatening. and that makes it scarier to jungkook, how you still have some patience left in you after what he did. no, after what he did not do. so as much as it pains him to leave you to your own devices in such emotional state, he thinks it’s best not to test your patience any further than he has done today.

“okay.” he responds softly, swallowing down the stubborn lump growing in his throat. “just, you- you know i really am sorry, right? i was the worst boyfriend today. i’m so, so, so sorry . . . i’m sorry. i’ll make it up to you. i promise . . . i’ll be in the living room if you need me or- um, when you decide to come out. you don’t have to forgive me, just eat dinner. please.”

“i’m not hungry. only cook for yourself.” your voice quivers and cracks. and as odd as it sounds, the padding of your hands and knees across the wooden floor of your bedroom is a sound he can recognize within a heartbeat.

he nods reluctantly, not realizing at all that you can’t see him. with a heavy heart, he forces himself to get up from the floor. and he just stands there for a minute or two or three, looking at the doorknob. he’s not even sure if you locked it or not. you went straight to the bedroom and slammed the door on his face and he just assumed. either the click of the doorknob never came or he spaced out in shock and guilt when it did.

when you texted jungkook in the morning saying that you were excited to see him tonight, with that smiling emoji decorated with hearts you adore so much, he assumed you were referring to him coming home from work. you do that often— sweetly declaring that you already miss him after being apart for only a few hours. and so, he replied saying he feels the same, but it was wrong. it was wrong of him to assume. he took a shower after dance practice, went for a nap on the soft couch in his studio, told his namjoon-hyung he was definitely free to record demos when he woke up to him knocking on the door. you patiently waited at the movie theater for three hours, for a person who never even once thought of coming.

you knew what you signed up for when you decided that you want a relationship with jungkook. he does everything in his power to spend as much time with you as possible, and in turn, you do the waiting while still doing your own thing. there’s always been that strong assurance holding you together, that’s why despite feeling disappointed, you knew he had a reasonable explanation as to why he wasn’t able to show up for your movie theater date.

you were getting ready to leave the mall when the final screening was already halfway finished, as well as the snacks you bought for two. until you caught sight of your boyfriend in all black jogging to you. you greeted his frantic face with a sad, yet playful, look on your face, jutting out your lower lip. you told him that it’s okay, atleast you came to pick me up and cuddled up to his side all the way to the parking lot.

but then he started explaining himself in the car— about how he totally forgot that your date was today; and of course, of course, he left his phone on the couch so he didn’t see your calls and texts until he came back in his studio after the recording. that was when he realized that he messed up, and he sprinted to his car immediately before he could miss you leaving.

jungkook, for the life of him, is not capable of lying to you. so you feel silly, soaking your pillow with tears and screaming at him in your head you should’ve lied to me and said something important came up because it’s better to feel less important than forgotten. it’s been two months since you had a date outside the house because of your busy schedules. unfortunately, it just happened to slip away from your routine at some point. maybe that’s why he forgot. you can understand that. you can see yourself making the same mistake, especially when there’s too many things in your brain to list and to organize. but the thing is . . . you miss going to the movie theater so much, and no explanation will relieve the fact that you just feel so upset.

on the other hand, jungkook only cries a little in the shower of the guest bedroom. he feels so shitty for being an irresponsible boyfriend and leaving you there all alone for hours without even realizing. but wallowing in self-deprication won’t make anyone feel better, so he heads straight to the kitchen to cook galbitang. the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach, they say. besides, the weather is starting to get cold. he wants something warm to fill your stomach.

yes, he clearly remembers you telling him that you’re not hungry, but he’s sure you will be in about two hours. the food should be ready by then. you only had popcorn and slushie at the mall, and he knows you well enough to accurately predict when you’re going to look for real food later on. courtesy of the countless late nights you told him you were too full for dinner then woke him up two to three hours later to say i want food now. with those innocent fluttering of your eyelashes and nonchalant expression painting your face. how could he ever dare to deny you?

he is already in the middle of waiting another hour of boiling the meat under reduced heat when he hears your familiar wailing from the bedroom. the sound activates the red giant alarms in his head. he drops his phone on the dining table, and his agile feet takes him to you in record time.

“what’s wrong? are you hurt?!” it takes a few seconds for his big eyes to focus on your figure sitting on the middle of the bed, clutching the bunched up comforter to your chest as tears drip down your chin and jawline. there is a nearly empty box of tissues on your side of the bed, surrounded by a bunch of crumpled tissues from the past hour or so.

you’re no longer wearing the outfit you spent thirty minutes of your afternoon deciding on. instead, you are enveloped by your blue fluffy matching pajamas designed with pink swirly clouds. he vividly remembers folding up this pair neatly the night before, along with the other clothes you wore for the past week. over the years, it has become one of the many indications that the year is closing in on an end. as he mentioned, it’s beginning to get colder these days. however, you don’t feel like cranking up the temperature in the house just yet, so instead, it starts appearing in the hamper weekly because it’s the warmest and comfiest pair of pajamas that you own.

impulsive buys are always a hit or miss. this one- it’s definitely a hit. the friendly ghost of your past self’s voice echoes in his head.

you shake your head furiously. quick pause to make room for an epiphany. then you change your mind and begin nodding with your face buried in your hands, tense shoulders shaking under his gaze.

“by me?” his knees give away, and he ends up sitting on the foot of the bed. he feels like his entire body is on fire and yours is the cure, but you are distant and unreachable.

he takes the blame for both his problems, so he sits tight on his spot and endures the consequences.

you whimper, roughly blowing your nose into fresh tissues. you explode into an incoherent sobbing fit. “no. yes. no. i-i don’t know. but i’m soooo annoyed right now, and i can’t stop crying because of it. so now i’m even more annoyed!”

you swallow thickly, scrunching your nose after. “and my nose hurts.” stings almost. stupid snot. stupid nose. stupid, stupid tears.

a fresh batch of tears flood your eyes, and it’s beyond unbearable for jungkook to just watch and be useless. “will you get more annoyed if i stay?”

you merely give him a lazy shrug.

his frown deepens, almost resembling a sad face emoticon. “and if i hug you?”

another shrug, accompanied by the slurred words- “you can try. once.”

he drags himself across the covers to reach you. he encloses you between his thighs, gently pulling you in for an embrace. the fire color changes from blue to orange, and he hopes to put it out once and for all.

“i’m annoyed.”

his heart drops to his stomach. oh, it stings.

he squeaks sadly. “why?”

“you smell like the kitchen. it’s making me feel better.” you sniffle as your tears pour like rain, and he feels them soak through his shirt until it sticks uncomfortably on his skin. “but i should be annoyed. how could you forget me?”

it adds fuel to the fire, and it’s excruciating, but he hugs you tighter and buries his face in your hair.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he apologizes for the umpteenth time. “i won’t make any more excuses. i was an idiot.”

“but i want you to!” you whine, struggling free from his hold out of frustration. “how could you remember our i-love-you-sary but not the date we planned three days ago?!”

“it just . . . happened.” he scratches his head in shame, not knowing what to say. those two occasions are in no way comparable. “i guess i’ve just been tired lately? i fell asleep right after practice. then rapmon-hyung kept knocking on the studio and i agreed to record still half-asleep.”

that doesn’t really . . . okay, atleast he tried.

you grimace as you harshly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to release all the built up frustration in your body using your smallest body movements. “but you already forgot even before practice? when you texted me back?”

he moves your hand away from your eyes, holding down your wrist so you don’t make them redder than they already are. he looks deep into your eyes this time, to show you how sincerely apologetic and disappointed he is as well. it hurts him to see you this upset. he knows that you trust him to witness you feel the ugliest o emotions, but he wonders if this outburst came about because you hit your limit. was him forgetting your date the last straw? is there something else going on in your mind you’re not telling him?

“that’s why i said i wouldn’t make excuses, baby. i’m sorry. all i can do now is make it up to you, so i hope you let me.”

you stay silent as you reassess the situation. it was an honest mistake, and there is nothing he can do to reverse it. the embarrassment settles in, for crying like a child infront of your boyfriend. you tried to be calm and collected, you really did. but emotions can be triggered so unexpectedly, like poking an approachable-looking bear can get you mauled. except you don’t bare your teeth, you cry and send a flood.

you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, inching closer to jungkook because you miss his skin against yours.

“i’ll forgive you in one condition.”

and you watch his face light up like he just discovered a new planet, his slumped shoulders back to his proper posture. he holds your hands in his excitedly, squeezing them. “anything. anything that you want, i’ll make it happen.”

however, you’re not really one to ask for much.

“add our dates to your calendar from now on. or set alarms. whatever works.”

“i’ll do both.” he nods eagerly. he should’ve been doing that from the start, anyway. he wants to beat himself up for being too lazy to organize his time. “i promise this won’t happen again. ever. i’ll make my friday night free. we can even watch two movies to make up for it. or watch the same movie all over again.”

“if it does, you’re sleeping on the doorstep.” you sniffle with a frown, hitting his arm after.

he offers you a cheeky smile, testing the waters. “on the street, even.”

you roll your eyes, letting the faintest of smiles grace your lips the same. “mkay. you just dug your own grave.”

“i’ll lie down in it willingly.”

“for your pride?”

he squints his eyes and shakes his head in disagreement. “for you.”

and then he hugs you once more, leaning his weight on you until you collapse backwards on the bed. his knees sink in the mattress to hold himself up, and your legs wrap around his waist, your thighs fitting his curves like puzzle pieces.

you feel his heart beating hard inside his ribcage, until he inches away to hover over you.

two pairs of glossy eyes meet.

jungkook repents in the softest form of intimate affection. he presses his lips on your forehead, scatters tender kisses all over your face, wet kisses down to your jaw (your tears or his saliva, you’re not quite sure), all the way to the expanse of your neck. you cup the back of his head, gripping his fluffy hair but never pulling.

“i’m sorry again, baby. i still feel like shit.” he confesses quietly, nuzzling his face on your neck. “still annoyed at me?”

“mhmm, not as bad. you’re lucky i love you.”

he cranes his head to the side to look up at you, corners of his eyes wrinkling as he flashes your favorite bunny smile. “i am. the luckiest.”

you and jungkook remain unmoving from that position until he gradually slips under the spell of drowsiness and most of all, your scent. the fabric softener he uses, the green tea perfume you rub on your neck using your wrist (it seems that it has applied for permanent residence on your skin), and you. just you. soothing, soul-cleansing. almost paradise. he feels like he’s floating on a cloud— he imagines it as the pink swirly one from your pajamas.

he doesn’t even realize that he has surrendered his whole weight on top of you, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up just because . . . your bones are getting crushed. and your legs are getting numb. nope. not as important as his rest.

that is before you squeeze him closer and give his temple a kiss, and you get a whiff of the kitchen from him again. uh-oh. please, no. you really hate the sound of the smoke alarm.

“baby boy?”

“hmm?”

“did you finish cooking before you came?”

a moment of silence.

a choke on a gasp.

you, almost getting smacked by his head.

“oh shit!”

he rolls off the bed in the blink of an eye, almost like a trained ninja. which you don’t dare to say out loud because you know he’s going to fucking naruto run his way to the kitchen.

you see him infront of the stove when you arrive after painfully waking up your legs. he greets you with a thumbs-up and a smile so big his facial muscles are shaking. “we’re safe. right on time! it’s perfectly boiled!”

you giggle at his theatrics, pulling out a chair from the dining table. you hug your legs close to your chest so you can rest your chin over your knees as you watch your boyfriend work hard in the kitchen. for his precious, precious galbitang to be served for his lover.

straining. chopping. seasoning. chopping. boiling. more boiling.

“you still cooked for me, right?” you question with a pout, the grumbling of your stomach becoming too painful to prioritize your ego above all.

“come on. of course i did, baby.” he places the bowl of rice infront of your chair, which you originally assumed to be his. he gives the top of your head a quick kiss, finding you so endearing when you get all pouty. “you’re so cute.”

the side dishes continue to take up the space of the table, and the main dish follows suit. once jungkook is settled infront of you, you both start filling your tummies.

“why are you only drinking the soup?” he asks a few minutes later, watching you carefully scoop up another spoonful of the tasty liquid.

“i’m cold.” you respond before putting the spoon in your mouth again. addicting, because the soup warms your stomach and eases the pain of your throat. it’s what you perfectly need.

the legs of a chair scratch against the tiled flooring. you stare at your boyfriend in confusion when he stands up holding his bowl and utensils. he journeys around the table to sit down next to you, abandoning his food on the table to provide you his natural warmth by cuddling up to your side.

“i’m keeping you warm so you can have your rice now.”

“oh my god, i love you.” you mutter with a chuckle, instantly melting in his arms because you do feel so much warmer.

oh.

hearing you say that you love him so easily and casually, this isn’t the first time. and so, jungkook thinks— what is this feeling? relief? is it irrational of him to think that he could’ve lost you tonight because you’ve gotten sick and tired of having to wait around?

“eat up, my love.”

a spoon poking his lips snaps him out of his intrusive thoughts, and he welcomes it appreciatively.

“can hear the gears inside your head moving.”

FUCK.

“you know i love you most in the world, right?”

his groan borders into a whine, and he drowns himself in your scent once more to seek comfort. “god, i’m gonna marry you someday. just you see.”

“good. i just hope you don’t forget our wedding day.”

you abruptly stop giggling when he lifts up his head and frowns at you sadly.

you offer him a guilty smile. “aww, i’m joking. still fresh?”

“aren’t you supposed to be the one sadder?”

“exactly. i’m trying to cope here, jungkook!”

—

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[forever-rogue]

your meddling steve fic got me thinking and what if it’s like a very similar concept where steve is trying to help you and eddie realize you like each other by being all extra touchy with you to make him jealous except he’s absolutely wrong. Eddie and you don’t like each other romantically but you do like steve!

AN | They’re fools, but they’re in love - but they don’t realize it, just yet.

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a smile on your face before you even felt him drape his arm around your shoulders. You’d felt his presence as soon as he walked into the coffee shop, always so in tune with him that it was ridiculous at times. You turned to look at Steve and he placed a chaste kiss on your temple, “I have a plan, babe.”

You turned to him with a confused expression, grabbing the coffees you had ordered for the two of you. He gratefully took the cup you offered him and took a long sip, “Steve….you and plans don’t go together. I mean, at least not well.”

“Quite frankly, my dear, I’m offended,” he let go of you and clutched at his heart, leading you over to the table you regularly occupied.

“Steve. You’ve been my best friend for almost sixteen years,” you reminded him, “when’s the last time a plan according to you has gone well? Plans are my forte.”

“Well, this is going to work!”

“Do you wanna clue me in to what this grand idea is?”

“I will not be doing that,” his grin was megawatt and you couldn’t help but sigh dramatically, “just have to know - how much do you trust me?”

“You know I trust you with my life,” you gently nudged his foot with yours under the table, the two of you grinning like fools at each other. That pretty smile still managed to make butterflies explode in your stomach, despite the years that you’d known him. In fact, you were pretty sure that you fell in love with him a little more every day still, “there’s no one I trust more.”

“Good,” he let out a relieved little breath, “me too. But for now you just have to trust me, and watch it all unfold. It’ll be like magic.”

“Alright Harrington,” you grabbed your cup and pretended to clink it against his, “you’re on. I expect to be fully dazzled.”

“Oh, you will be,” he insisted, pretty bambi eyes glittering mischievously, “don’t worry.”

Your heart felt like it was almost bursting with excitement and nerves. Was Steve finally going to tell you that he felt the same about you as you did him? Would he profess his undying love for you and finally kiss? You could only - dream - of that moment. 

You would just have to wait and see.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bi-weekly movie and dinner night out with the grownups. You loved your younger little brood of children, but sometimes it was nice to go out with just the older lot. This found you, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan picking the most obscure movie to see in the theater, followed by a healthy, heaping serving of greasy dinner food. What could be better than that?

The movie had just finished, and to be honest, you’d missed about half of it. It was some gory flick that wasn’t quite up your alley and, needless to say, you’d hidden your face in your hands and Steve’s shoulder most of the time. 

As the six of you were leaving the theater, Steve reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, stepping in front of Eddie and Robin as you all walked down the street to the dinner. It wasn’t odd for Steve to hold your hand, even like this - you both were incredibly affectionate and touchy people. But still…it made electric shivers run up your spine and butterflies explode in your tummy. Something about tonight made things feel different. 

You couldn’t help but turn back to smile at Eddie and Robin, the duo smirking happily as they gave you the thumbs. They were, on top of being too smart for their own sometimes, incredibly perceptive, and it hadn’t taken either of them, the chaotic duo that they were, to clock in on the fact that you were absolutely in love with Steve. And that he was just as in love with you…even if he didn’t realize that just yet.

But this, this outward affection and display of gentle reverence had to mean something, right? And although Steve hadn’t explicitly mentioned anything, maybe he was finally coming around, finally realizing what the two of you had. You felt like a shy girl, trailing after her crush like a little puppy, nothing but stars in your eyes. Oh yes, you were a sucker for your pretty boy best friend.

But that whole evening turned out to be and feel different. Like everything was slowly falling into place. 

“You look so pretty,” he kissed your cheek before all of you shuffled into the booth and ordered your usuals. Your face flushed with warmth as you dipped your teeth and stared at the floor, “I realize I didn’t tell you earlier, sweetheart. And I just had to.”

“Thanks,” your voice was soft and small as you looked across and found Eddie beaming back at you. You put your hand on top of his, admiring how much smaller yours looked against his before giving it a gentle squeeze, “you’re really pretty too, Stevie.”

Even at the table exchanged knowing little looks that silently said finally. 

Finally the two of you had some sense and realized it was almost meant to be the two of you. You looked over at Steve and found him watching you with the gentlest of expressions on his face. Had he always looked at you like that?

He had. You’d just never noticed before, too busy looking at him just as sweetly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Robin’s birthday came on a beautiful Saturday. Naturally, Steve had planned a huge party to surprise, along with your help. The way her face lit up when she realized it was not a party but a party for her had made it all worth it. Her face when she realized that Vickie was there was priceless….anything to help her shoot her shot was what Steve had declared. You couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally seal the deal with you; despite his increased affections as of late, he still hadn’t officially made a move. All you could do was wait, you supposed. 

You were chatting with Eddie and the birthday girl herself when Steve decided to join you guys. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Hey sweetheart," he practically cooed at you, causing your heart to skip a few beats. Eddie and Robin looked at each other and took long swigs of the beer in their red plastic cups. It was almost disgusting how in love the two of you were, "missed you. You look so pretty tonight."

"Steve," you couldn't help the giggle that naturally bubbled up, reaching up to touch his cheek, "you just saw me!"

"And it's been too long," he sighed dramatically before placing a few kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, "hate being away from you."

"Okay lovebirds," Eddie shook his head in amusement before motioning for Robin to follow him, "we'll leave you two alone to do whatever it is you're doing and we're gonna smoke."

You watched them head upstairs and once they were gone and out of sight, Steve dropped his arms from around you. The loss of his warm touch felt a little harsh. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, wishing the racing thoughts in your mind would calm down for one second, "hey - can we go outside and talk?"

"Of course," he readily agreed, "good idea."

He held the way to the backyard, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy. Once outside and away from the loud party, things felt a little calmer. You looked at him, the pretty boy that had your heart for so long, unable to stop from smiling.

"Steve-"

"Babe, it's all going according to plan," he clapped his hands together, his whole face lighting up. Your brows knitted together in confusion as you just looked at him. He gently touched your cheek, his smile never faltering.

"P-plan? What plan?"

"My brilliant plan to get you and Eddie together," he sounded confused as to what you were confused about. Your entire face fell as your mouth opened in surprise. Needless to say, this was absolutely not what you had been expecting.

"Steve?" you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes as you blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling over and running down your cheeks.

"My plan," he reiterated, wondering why you were having such a reaction. He was kind of thinking that you would be…happy, "you know, being all touchy and feely with you. So he would get jealous…which he did. It seemed like it to me anyway."

"Me and Eddie," you repeated, completely stunned and heartbroken. This whole time….Steve hadn't really felt that way about you. It was all some weird plan to get you with him. You felt like such a fool; you felt so stupid and pathetic. After all, why would Steve Harrington be in love with you? None of it was real and it had all been a beautiful lie. You wiped away the tears that had rolled your cheeks before attempting to brush past him.

"Babe-" but you were already back inside, making your way through the house so you could leave and go back to your own. You really wanted to be anywhere but here. It felt like your heart had just been ripped out and crushed into a thousand tiny pieces. 

Steve was so upset to see you upset. His heart constricted in his cheek as he went back inside. Maybe the man in question, Eddie, would be able to clear the air.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It didn't take long for Steve to find the two of them in his bedroom, looking more serious than he had expected. He didn't smell any weed and quickly realized the two of them were sober.

"Hey, I need to-"

"What happened to her?" Eddie cut Steve off before he could even get his sentence out. He swallowed thickly, "she was crying and almost ran out. What the fuck did you do, Harrington?"

"I…I thought I was doing the right thing," he rubbed a hand over his tired face, groaning at himself, "the plan…"

"Care to elaborate, dingus?"

"I was trying to get her with you," he turned to Eddie, who stared at him with wide eyes, "I thought I could make you jealous and finally get you to confess your feelings to her."

"My feelings?" Eddie repeated, looking at Robin in confusion, "what feelings? My…friend feelings?"

"Friend - no, you're in love with her," he insisted and the two of them snorted in amusement, "aren't you?"

"No," Eddie shook his head, "you are. And she's in love with you."

"So…she doesn't like you?" his voice cracked as he slowly came to the conclusion that he had made a big, horrible mistake. Eddie and Robin both shook their heads as Steve groaned, “and you don’t like her?”

"I mean, I like her duh, but only as a friend. Nope, Stevie…she's in love with you," he insisted and realization hit him like a train. Oh. Oh, “it’s so disgustingly obvious. From both of you.”

"I think you have somewhere to be," Robin cooked her head towards the door, "do go and apologize and get your girl."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were still crying, but your tears had long run out. Instead it was just dry sobs that wracked your body as you curled up in bed. You felt so fucking dumb, and honestly so shitty. This whole time you thought Steve’s affections were real, and that you were both finally on the same page…turns out it was nothing but a game to him, a game in which he pawned you off to someone else. 

You heard the frantic knocking at the front door, but decided to ignore it. It was late and you were in absolutely no mood to be dealing with anyone. You pulled the blanket over your head and continued your little pity party - which was well deserved, thank you very much. 

But just as suddenly as the knocking had come, there was tapping at your window. You groaned as you tossed the blanket off your body, ready to yell at whoever was interrupting you. It was probably Eddie or Robin - the two of them had seen you practically run out of Steve’s. 

To your surprise, it was the very same man that had just broken your heart at the window. You frowned and shook your head, “go away. You’re the last person I want to talk to right now.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that,” you already felt your eyes burning again, fresh tears unfortunately brought back, “please. Just go.”

“I have to talk to you,” he insisted, “it’s important. Please - let me explain.”

“Explain what!?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “how I’m an idiot? How you didn’t mean to fool me into thinking that maybe you could possibly feel the way I do? No thanks.”

“Let me explain,” you could see that he had glossy eyes as well, and that tears had already run down his cheeks. Fuck. Why did he have to do that? You hung your head and sighed, “please, I’m begging you.”

Wordlessly, you closed the little bit of distance that was between the two of you and opened the window so he could climb inside. He landed ungracefully on your floor, breathing heavily as he gathered himself.

“Talk,” you insisted as you sat back on your bed and looked at him. He inhaled deeply before nodding, trying to gather up the courage to spill out his entire heart to you.

“I fucked up,” were the first words that tumbled out of his mouth and you just raised an eyebrow at him, “and I am so, so sorry for that.”

“You…Steve…I…” you stopped yourself, shaking your head before motioning for him to go.

“My plan, this stupid, dumb plan…I thought it was perfect,” he confessed softly, “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for what?”

“For you,” he breathed nervously, “it was supposed to be better for you. I thought that you - you and Eddie - really liked each other. I thought if I put on the affection a little bit he’d get the hint - he’d get jealous and finally ask you out.”

“Steve,” you wanted to be angry, but the boy had such a heart of gold that you found it impossible. He really did have the best intentions even if it all backfired, “I never liked Eddie that way. And he’s not interested in me. I don’t know why you’d ever think that.”

“I guess…I just thought that it would…maybe this is selfish too but,” he was waving his hands around as he did when he got nervous, “I thought it would help me get over you.”

“Well, it really didn’t work,” the fact that he’d basically just confessed his true feelings for you went over your head in the moment, “it just really ended up hurting me, Steve. I thought that you might actually feel the same about me as I do about you. Instead, it just makes me look like a fool."

"Sweetheart-"

"That whole time I thought it was real. I thought that maybe…maybe I was special to you," a few tears of anger and sadness rolled toy cheeks, "that maybe you loved me."

"Please, just let me-"

"Instead it turned out all wrong," your voice cracked, "and I'm afraid that we're never going to be the same. 'Cause now you know I'm in love with you. And you don't feel the same."

"But I-"

"Maybe I should have told you a long time ago but-"

"I'm in love with you." 

"And I - wait," his words finally settled in your bones as you realized what he said. You turned to Steve and looked at him, eyes wide and nervous as your heart beat wildly in your chest, "what did you say?"

"I said I was in love with you," his voice almost cracked as your face softened.

"Stevie?"

"I'm in love with you, honey," he repeated as you stood up and moved closer to him, "I have been for a long time. I, ugh, I didn't know you felt the same. Otherwise I would have…said this a long time ago."

"So let me get this straight," you held up your mind as your mind tried to process everything, "I love you and didn't think you loved me…and you love me and didn't think I loved you? So you tried to get over me by getting me together with Eddie?"

“I thought that maybe seeing you with someone else would finally get to me and I’d finally get into my head that you aren’t mine…you weren’t meant to be mine,” he avoided your eyes and looked at the carpet, studying it intently, “that you loved someone else.”

“Steve Harrington,” you put a hand under his chin and turned his face towards you, “you are a good, kind hearted person that always wants the best for others. But you are so blind sometimes. Steve, I’ve been yours…I’ve always been yours.”

He wrapped his long, slender fingers around your wrist, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as he looked at you intently, “do you mean it? Truly?”

“Yes,” you nodded, offering the pretty boy a teary eyed smile, “I realized just how much I’ve loved you that day you gave me your ice cream after I dropped mine. It was your favorite flavor and I remember how much you’d been looking forward to it. But you didn’t hesitate.”

“Honey,” he let out a small laugh, one filled with years of love longing, “we were ten. I remember that afternoon. But that was so long ago.”

“I know,” you nodded gently and Steve felt like his face was about to break in half with happiness. Every dream he’d ever had was suddenly coming true. 

You slowly pulled your hand back, but Steve’s hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into his frame. Everything about him was overwhelming and all consuming; the warmth from his body, his smell, the soft sounds that escaped his lips. He was completely yours and he’d never even realized; until this moment…until he’d almost lost you. 

He looked at you for just a moment before he leaned in and crashed his lips onto yours, kissing with a soft, but fervent passion. His kiss was saccharine but contained so much pent up love and adoration. He wanted to bathe you in it, wanted to make sure you’d never question his love again. Steve would have gone through hell a million times over before anything happened to you, before the smile left your face.

You practically melted into him, letting him kiss you until you were dizzied and drying for a breath of air. You looked at him with a happy anticipation, ready for him to take you back in his arms and kiss you until the end of days, “I love you, Steve. So much.”

“I love you,” he whispered before moving to kiss you again, “forever and endlessly.”