#oh and hey if you were wondering what the paneling looked like on my wallpaper re-release it's this

[treefish]

[salty-but-bland]

Can I submit late amasai week things I still have, like, 2 more prompts to do (1 if I skip free day)

Beta @amasaiweek day 4: journey/trail

~*~*more angst but dw it's not as extreme as day 3*~*~

Tw: blood, gunshots

Is this beta au spoilers? Idk but I'm tagging for it because it's the 4th chapter motive

@kagazuly au credit

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Footsteps echoed down the dim hallway. Shuichi's footsteps, to be exact. Careful, fearful steps, like each step could be his last, because it quite literally could be.

He thought about what he knew to try and put the pieces together. Rantaro, Ryoma, and Kokichi all went into the third floor of the school- er, the Sanzu Garden together to find their afternoon locks, and the weapons maker and Kokichi made it back to the dorms. According to them, Rantaro had fallen into a pit trap, and they hadn't been able to find him since. Now, after everyone else had their afternoon challenge completed, Shuichi and Kaito had been chosen to try to find Rantaro.

So far, they'd found nothing but more traps- and one of Rantaro's locks, completed. At least he'd be safe for the night, wherever he was.

Walking along the hallway, Shuichi heard a click from inside the walls, and- a dart flew by him, narrowly missing his cheek.

If I had been just a bit off, he thought, that would've gone right through my eye. And Monokuma said the traps wouldn't kill us. That statement seemed less true by the day.

Luckily, that had been one of the smaller traps, as they ranged from small projectiles being thrown to walls crashing against each other with a person in between. He looked around at the walls of the hallway, searching for signs of human interaction, when something caught his eye.

A red spot on the floor.

Many red spots, actually, making a clear trail down the hall and around a corner.

There were no traps around here that he knew of that could make a hole big enough to cause that much blood loss. They'd all either give you small cuts or kill you in a second. And Rantaro kept first aid supplies on him, so the violinist doubted he'd go that long without stopping the blood.

Still, Kokichi had told him Rantaro's was the only lock on the third floor, and the way he was coming from was closest to the stairway, so…

Whoever came this way did it on purpose. And it wasn't to get their afternoon locks.

Shuichi ran through the hall and followed the red trail around the corner, to where it abruptly stopped over a tile of the floor. There were no traps besides the dart in that hall. Where had this person gotten their injury, then?

He slowed his pace, thinking more logically now. I should go back and get Kaito, that way we'll keep each other in sight in case this trail leads somewhere bad.

But he could be anywhere on this floor by now, and I don't know if that trap'll activate again because it's right at my eye level, and was that liquid in the dart, now that I'm thinking more in detail about it? Could it be a tranquilizer dart, or a poisonous one? And- okay, pull yourself together, Shuichi.

Out of sheer stubbornness, he decided to keep following the trail by himself, and walked slowly along the blood trail until he reached the tile it stopped at.

Hmm.

Maybe whoever was injured had stopped here to treat their wounds a bit if the pain had gotten to be too much. Or they could've turned around and gone back. Kokichi did say he knew Rantaro's lock was the only one on the floor. Maybe he had done some exploring and gotten hurt on accident, or maybe-

His thoughts were cut off by a sudden lack of ground beneath his feet.

Or maybe the injured person had fallen into a pitfall trap right at this very spot.

He screamed in surprise at the fall and heard a voice from above him, far away, and loud footsteps. "SHUICHI?!"

Yeah, he should've told Kaito.

The panels to the trap shut, leaving him to fall in total darkness and silence.

It was both peaceful and stressful, the feeling of not knowing where you'd land or when, nothing but darkness and your own thoughts and the stomach-churning sensation Shuichi found out was easy to get used to, and-

BANG.

A-

A gunshot?

From somewhere below him, there was a gunshot. And now, light began to clear up the darkness, revealing cold metal walls around him. There were more gunshots, louder, more frequent. What kind of place does this lead to?

With a thump, he landed on a thick mattress, oddly out of place in the room he landed in, which was made of blank white concrete walls covered in chipping, moldy wallpaper. He saw no guns nor sparks or bullets flying, but the sound of gunshots was everywhere, exploding in his eardrums so that he had to block his ears if he wanted to concentrate. Cardboard boxes sat in varying stacks and piles in the corners of the room. There were no holes in them, Shuichi saw, so could there just not be- he walked out into the middle of the room. Sure enough, the sound was just coming from a hidden speaker, and there were no real guns.

Now, how to get out of this room?

The cardboard boxes were most likely there for a reason. They could be traps, but they could also serve as a way to escape. He decided to investigate them first.

Picking a random box off a stack in the nearest corner, he noticed something. Something green. And curled into a tight ball, letting out whimpers that could barely be heard over the noise from the speakers.

It was- He was Rantaro. Much, much different than how he acted around the others, but Rantaro nonetheless. What was going on?

"Some rooms will lock you in and whisper your worst fears to you."

This was one of those rooms, wasn't it? Designed for Rantaro, for sure. And it couldn't just be the gunshot noise that triggered him so badly, since he'd talked so much about his feats in war before. The room probably had something to do with his fear. No wonder he was hiding in a fort of small brown boxes.

"Rantaro!"

Nothing. His voice was still quieter than the background noise. 

"RANTARO!!"

The medic seemed paralyzed for a second, then slowly turned his head towards Shuichi.

"You have to snap out of this, Ra-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET DOWN, OR YOU COULD GET SHOT!"

Tears were streaming down his usually confident face as he said this.

"No! You have to listen, Rantaro!" The violinist crouched down next to the stack of boxes.

"None of what you're thinking about is real. There are speakers in the walls, they're making the sound of gunshots. I don't know what this place is, but as far as I know it can't hurt you. You're safe, alright? You're safe."

Rantaro was still hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Everyone's waiting back at the dorms. We've been really worried for you. That's how I ended up here, by falling through the same trap you did."

The shots in the background became softer and softer as Shuichi explained their situation casually, until they eventually faded away into nothingness. Apparently the mastermind was done with this twisted torture.

A door opened at the opposite side of the room.

The curled-up figure had slowed his breathing some, but was still panicking.

"...It. It stopped."

"Huh. It did."

And it took quite a lot of convincing, but, not very long after the noises stopped, the two walked to the door, Rantaro holding the other's hand tightly for security.

"Oh, right! Have you tended to your wound yet? If not, we ought to fix that now before getting back to the others."

"...Wound? What wound?" Rantaro asked, checking his body for any wound he could've forgotten about.

"Well, there was a trail of blood leading to the door here, so I thought it might be your-"

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

If Rantaro really had been taken by surprise and fallen here, he wouldn't have had time to fix himself up until he finished falling, which would mean-

But there wasn't any blood on the mattress or the floor at all.

"I followed the trail too. Thought I could find someone suspicious, since no other locks were on that floor and the trail led away from my lock."

"Uh, wait… then if it wasn't you or Kokichi… whose blood trail was that?"

[cosmica-candy]

Chapter Three: Curiosity Strikes at 12

Another chapter, illustrated by yours truly, and written by @mechamastermind!! this is yet another chapter in our Coraline NSR AU! For the previous chapters check out my blog, and make sure to follow me for future chapters, we are going to write this to the very end!! But for now, Enjoy!!

Chapter three

Whirring, Turning of bumping of the clockwork mouse echoed through the portal, it smacked against the door frame, going to wriggle it's way into the attic. Slowly, inch by inch it buried its giant metal buck teeth further and further into the corner of the trapdoor. Prying and prying the corner off bit by bit like it was chipping away at the food on its plate. A mouse on a mission… Rescue the boy. 

Neo woke up in his bed, expecting one of his dads to be next to him… but no one was there. He walked out into the living room, expecting anyone to greet him and tell him good morning. But no one was there. He did hear the sounds of everyone scurrying around outside, to which he was racing out to see. He saw his fathers both sprinting towards the van with briefcases sloppily tucked with clothes, sleeves dangling out and flailing in the wind. 

Neo managed to catch his father, Neon, rushing by him.

“Daddy?! Daddy what’s goin on!?” 

“D-Does that mean Papa will have some free time finally!?” 

“Oh the most wonderful thing Star Shine! Your brothers got asked to do a local concert!!”

Neo’s eyes lit up, stars seeming to beam from, but his iris as he got on his toes, seeing his moment. 

Nova stood by the van, Sol, Aquos, Stello, and Snow all lined up next to him, as he grabbed them, lifting them up with both hands like a bouncer to a bar throwing out drunks, except he was throwing his boys into the van. 

“Sorry Neo… I’ll be busy working from home to schedule the next tour…” 

That felt like the last straw, but this time no one would see Neo cry, he just stood there balling his fists in anger. Snow and Stellos noticing their youngest brother angry, they were much more attuned to their baby brother’s moods than their father. Stellos managed to run over to Neo before Snow could, as he knelt down next to him, 

“Hey there neo! Gonna miss you little buddy!” 

“...Yeah…”

“...You know… I heard you talking about your new friend last night, Yinu was it?”

“Oh!?” Neo’s eyes suddenly shot up. 

“Remember by our old house… we had that well? And the funny circle of mushrooms around it?” 

“Playing in the fields right?”

“Yeah!” 

“...Uh huh?” 

Stellos patted his brother’s head, before being scooped up by nova, and tossed into the back of the van. Snow then walked over, putting his hand on neo’s head and brushing his hair. 

“Well, if you go playing again in the fields, make sure you and your little friend stay away from the circles, you might fall in, and we might not see you again.”

“Oh… Okay Stelly…” 

“Hey,” Snow said “Don’t have too much fun without us alright little bro?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that hard…” Neo pouted, before snow knelt down and looked him square in the eyes.

“You know how hard daddy and papa work, don’t you?”

“....mhm…”

“And you know why they work right?” 

“They love you Neo… Even if they don’t show it…” 

“....so we can get more juice boxes…”

“That’s right, just like I told you…”

Snow pulled neo up to sit on his knee as he gave his brother a hug.

Neo just whined into his brother's shoulder, still hurting from last night… 

Snow set him back down before rushing to the driver's seat, hopping in and then driving off. 

Nova and Neon stood there waving their oldest boys off, when Nova suddenly got a call, “Work” coming across his screen as he answered it, walking away from his husband. Neo had enough at this point, he ran back inside slamming the front door behind him. Neon turned around to hear the sound of it slamming as he held a hand up to his mouth and softly gasped… he had never heard Neo get so upset…

Neo scurried up the stairs and began sitting on the top most step, looking down at the rest of the house, as he held his hands up to his face and cupped it… whimpering softly into it as he kicked his feet out in frustration and sadness… 

For a second though he becomes silent, as he hears something in the walls… 

Scrt scrt scrt…. 

He looked behind him to see the wall paper pushing out, like a small animal was scratching at a hole in the wall that was covered up by wallpaper. 

Neo got on his hands and knees looking at the poking bit of the wallpaper, fascinated by what it could be… 

Pop!

Neo jumped back a bit as he saw this metallic mouse roll out on sets of wheels under its body… it looked like a toy!! Neo was softly gasping, he had never seen anything like it, and it was cute and fun looking!! 

Suddenly the mouse went from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. As one second it was looking at Neo, the next it was racing down further into the house, before smacking hard into the farthest wall with an audible THUNK!!

Neo ran over worried over his new mousie friend, only to see that it managed to smack the wall so hard, it knocked down the stairs to the attic neo didn’t know about. 

Somehow the mouse was able to jump up each step and wheel itself up into the attic, with neo following close behind, calling out to it

“Hey! Mousie! Wait!”

Neo looked around the attic, seeing many many boxes from the previous owners, and even an old grandfathers clock… it oddly seemed compelling that he take a closer look at it. He saw engraved on the pendulum a large X. It was so ancient looking, it didn’t even have a screen which baffled Neo. He couldn’t understand how anyone read this clock, as it was only a bunch of I’s and V’s and X’s. 

He scanned past the clock and along the floor, to find the mouse burying its face into the corner of a panel on the floor… looking closer and closer… it was trying to pry the panel open, and that’s when Neo realized it was a trap door!! 

But from its position it would just lead back into his room… but there’s no trap door in his ceiling, not from what he saw… 

What could possibly be underneath? 

Neo dug his fingers into the chewed off corner of the trapdoor, getting them right under, as he began to lift up. But the door was quite stuck, and he couldn’t get it open with his baby fingers alone. So he got up on both his feet, planting them firm and strong as he lifted with all his strength, with the might of half a man!! 

The little mouse stood by his feet, clicking with joy as neo felt something snap, and the door went flying open. Neo stumbled as all his weight was suddenly thrown in the air, and he fell down into the trapdoor, the mousey following after him. 

Neo began to fall, and fall, much farther than should have been physically possible. As he fell past what would have been the second floor, and fell past what would have been the first floor, and what would have been the basement. He fell for what seemed like minutes through an ethereal veil lacking a true shape, expanding out indefinitely with waving colors. 

Neo then finally found the other side as he rolled out along the floor. Looking back he saw that he just fell out of the chimney of the mansion, his path making no sense at all. 

His blood ran cold when he suddenly heard the humming… humming of his father, Nova… He was already shaking, still hurt by his father's actions, when he noticed it was coming from the kitchen, a first for nova. 

Neo slowly walked over and approached the door to the kitchen, peering in from the doorway as what he saw shocked him. 

He saw his father, well dressed as always, tall and strong, but just the slightest bit off, something seemed very stiff and metallic about him… Neo couldn’t place what was off until the man turned around and he saw his eye. In place of a pupil, he had two broad strokes crossed through the middle in the shape of an X. Neo gasped and stepped back as he saw the odd eye, alerting this stranger to his location, as this false nova turned and looked at him while holding a mixing bowl, he spoke in his father’s voice. 

“You’re just in time for supper, Dear.” 

Meanwhile, in the mansion, Nova came back in after his call from work, he was excited and happy as could be, he proudly called out 

“Neo!! I got off work for the day! I was thinking we could go look at the fields behind the mansion!” 

But no one answered. 

“Neo? Neo where are you buddy?” 

But no one answered. 

Nova panicked. 

He raced up the stairs looking around for his boy, checking his room first. Nothing. 

While he was searching however, the mice began to move… gears turning as they worked fast, grabbing the drawstring for the ceiling and pulling the stairs to the attic up and out of sight, while pushing up on a window in the hallway that leads out into the garden. 

Then he raced into the kitchen, maybe he was grabbing a snack.

Nothing. 

Finally Nova just started calling and screaming out his name over and over again, fearing his boy has gone, when it all came to a screeching halt when he noticed the now open window, and his heart nearly stopped when he considered the possibility that his sweet star child had run from home.

[artificialqueens]

Feelings On Safety (Part 2) (Branjie)- Ortega

a/n: i actually wrote a part 2 to Your Move??? who is she??? i loved the verse i made for these two a lot so when people wanted more i did not at all mind writing it. thank u all for the amazing response to Your Move and i hope u like this as much as u did the first part!!! i feel like u benefit from reading Your Move first but i guess this could be read standalone too?? idk do what u like (Title from Trip by Ella Mai. i listened to so so much Ella Mai writing all this i’m so in my feelings rn)

Summary: Brooke is not falling for her secretary, despite what Detox is telling her. She only wants to be with her every hour of the day, treat her to nice things, make her laugh and maybe sort of make her her girlfriend. Shit, maybe Detox is right after all.

***

Brooke was fucked. Both physically and mentally.

She hadn’t really known when sleeping with Vanessa had become such a regular thing- after the first time she’d felt awkward, she hadn’t known how to play it, and she hadn’t known how Vanessa had felt about things so instead of asking her like a normal human being, Brooke had avoided her instead. That was until around five days later when Vanessa basically locked them both in her office and demanded to know why she was getting avoided as if she had herpes or something, and Brooke stuttered everything out in a completely flustered and very un-Brooke way. Vanessa had watched with a slightly open mouth and a surprised sense of amusement until Brooke was finished verbalising all that she’d been worrying about, and then she’d crossed around to behind Brooke’s desk, sitting on her lap gently and bringing every searing hot memory to the forefront of Brooke’s head.

“Look,” Vanessa had said matter-of-factly, bringing her hands up to cup Brooke’s jaw so that she had no choice but to lock eyes with her. “Did you like fuckin’ me?”

“Oh God,” Brooke had looked away in embarrassment and laughed. “Vanessa, it’s 9.15.”

“Bitch, just answer the question! Did you like it when I let you pin me to the ground and ride my face? Did you like bending me over your desk and spanking and fingering me?”

“Oh Jesus,” Brooke exhaled. She’d missed hearing Vanessa talk like that, her voice all low and sultry and answering her own question for her. “Fuck yes, I liked it.”

Vanessa had smiled. “Do you want to do it again?”

Brooke remembers darting her eyes from Vanessa’s own quickly down to her red painted lips and back up again. She had nodded once, and Vanessa had leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her lips.

“So that’s all that matters. You liked it, I liked it. We both want round two. We know where we both are now so why are we puttin’ up a front about it?”

And after that Brooke had put her arms around Vanessa and pulled her close, kissing her all needy and desperate, and Brooke hadn’t known what she’d been worrying about at all. That had been the second time, and since then there’d been a third and a fourth and a fifth, until Brooke had very nearly lost count. She knew they’d been at it for about a month, which was probably a long time, but for Brooke it had gone by quicker than anything.

But there was only so much sex you could have with somebody before you started developing feelings, and Brooke knew that. If she was being honest, she’d been feeling things that were more than lust for her for quite a while now, and Brooke didn’t really know what to do. Every time Brooke deadpanned something sarcastic about a client she felt a sense of achievement whenever Vanessa laughed, crinkling up her nose and flashing her bright white teeth. Or after they were finished and they were both lying on the rug exhausted, Brooke remembers the first time that Vanessa rolled over, put her head on Brooke’s chest and threw an arm around her waist, and Brooke’s heart had felt like a bubble that was seconds away from popping. The trouble was, how did she breach that topic with Vanessa?

Brooke decided to start small. It was a Friday, and everyone in the office was in a good mood. The week had seemed long, and everyone was excited to go home. Lots of people were leaving early, so when Vanessa bounded into Brooke’s office at half past four, she was excited.

“I think we could be in luck tonight, Ms. Brooke,” she beamed, Brooke wanting to laugh at the now-unnecessary formality. “This place is gonna be dead by quarter to five, and then it’s gonna be just us!”

Brooke smiled at her from her position at her filing cabinet where she’d been putting cases away, her heart lifting at the little phrase Vanessa had used at the end which made her happier than the other girl would know. Still, part of her was scared for what she was going to propose. “Yeah, I wanted to talk about that, actually-”

“Oh. Okay,” Vanessa’s face dropped, her body language instantly disappointed. She gave a sad smile. “You wanna stop all of this, huh?”

“Oh, fuck no!” Brooke replied instantly, the other girl looking so defeated that Brooke wanted to wrap her up in a hug. She was so pleased when Vanessa perked up again, her expression turning happy and curious all at once. Brooke grew nervous. “I just thought…you know, there’s only so much comfort that my office can actually provide. And my flat has like…soft furnishings and stuff.”

Vanessa burst out in a laugh that ripped through the room. “Soft furnishings, bitch what the fuck?! Just say bed. Or couch. Who d’ya think you’re talking with, the queen of fuckin’ England?”

“Definitely not,” Brooke raised an eyebrow. She let the filing cabinet drawer roll shut as she crossed over to where Vanessa had taken a seat. She was still giggling. “Hey. Stop laughing at me, bitch.”

Vanessa bit her lip, trying to hide her smirk. “Or what? You gon’ shut me up?”

Brooke felt like a spring that was beginning to be slowly wound up. She loved what Vanessa could do to her in just a few words. “That mouth’s going to be busy doing something else if you don’t watch it.”

“Like what, eatin’ that pussy out?”

Brooke threw her head back and gave a soft laugh, her hands playing with the hem of her skirt impatiently. “Fuck, there’s never any nuance with you, is there?”

Vanessa ran her tongue along her teeth and smiled as she shook her head. Brooke sighed needily. “Mm, I can’t wait.”

Vanessa frowned in mock-disapproval, tutting gently. “You’re whinier than I am today, Mami.”

“Fuck, stop it. You know what that does to me,” Brooke moaned. She really desperately wanted Vanessa- the week had been long and she’d been too caught up in her caseload to do anything with her- but she also wanted to have her back to her flat, so she decided to gently ask Vanessa again. “So uh…would you want to come round to mine? You know, just so we have a bed.”

Her heart felt like it was in her mouth as Vanessa smirked quietly back at her. She waited for the inevitable rejection, the narrowed eyes and the questioning why, but none of those came. Instead, the smirk broke into a smile and Vanessa shrugged. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Brooke felt a tidal wave of relief wash over her. It was only a small step forward, but they weren’t going to go from casual sex to in love in the space of one conversation. “Amazing. Give me five minutes to finish up here, then we can go.”

So that was how Brooke ended up driving Vanessa back to her apartment, a nervous flutter in her chest as Vanessa sang softly along to whatever was on the radio. They talked easily with each other about little things, Brooke telling Vanessa about her clients and Vanessa laughing, or gasping in shock, or ranting about how much of a cunt somebody was. Brooke was happy that Vanessa didn’t mind her venting, and she hadn’t realised she was still talking until she had walked out the elevator and reached her own front door.

“Sorry,” she said, self-conscious. “I hadn’t realised I’d been ranting so much.”

Vanessa frowned. “Don’t apologise. It’s important to you.”

Brooke’s heart felt all warm and glowing as they shared a smile, only breaking it when she pushed down on the handle and was met by a deafening series of beeping noises that cut through the moment.

“Fuck, what is that?!” Vanessa yelled, holding her ears comically. Brooke hissed as she dashed inside, stabbing at the security system she’d still not managed to get the hang of yet.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said anxiously, growing frustrated as she pressed button after button with her long talons. “Come on, fuck.”

“Bitch can you hurry it up a little? It ain’t playin’ one of Beethoven’s sympathies, get it movin’!”

Finally, mercifully, Brooke keyed in four numbers and the racket stopped. Registering what Vanessa had said, she turned and smiled at her affectionately. “Symphonies.”

Vanessa looked confused. “What did I say?”

“Sympathies.”

The other girl snorted, shaking her head. “Fuck. Well, are you gonna invite me in?”

The nerves flaring up again, Brooke gestured for her to come inside and watched as Vanessa stepped in, her heels clacking softly against the black marble floor and her eyes wide as they darted about and took everything in. For Brooke it was just where she lived, but she felt suddenly embarrassed at the opulence of everything around her. For Brooke, it had been for convenience’s sake- she hadn’t had the time to sit and work out where to pick up furniture or flooring or wallpaper for her new place so she’d hired an interior designer to do it all for her. It was all marble and dark wood panels and white fluffy throws and rugs, and Vanessa walked down the hallway slowly, as if she was dreaming. She stopped as she came to the living room, and Brooke followed behind her anxiously, wondering if she’d made a mistake bringing Vanessa here.

Brooke watched as Vanessa walked past the two white couches, the tall, dark wood bookcase and the coal fire, and stood at the huge floor-to-ceiling windows with wide eyes, taking everything in. She finally turned around and smiled softly at Brooke.

“Wow. So this is like my Julia Roberts Pretty Woman moment, right?” she laughed gently, visibly overwhelmed.

“Sorry,” Brooke said, without really knowing what she was apologising for. Vanessa cocked her head inquisitively like a little bird, giving a laugh.

“Why? It’s beautiful. Don’t go all coy on me now, Ms. Brooke,” she smiled, shrugging off her pink fake fur coat. For a second she looked awkward as if she didn’t know where to put it, and so Brooke crossed the floor and took it from her gently.

“I like this, by the way,” Brooke said thoughtfully, stroking the material on the outside. It made Vanessa look like a cute little Barbie doll, which she loved. Vanessa smiled shyly.

“It’s probably not…I don’t know…the standard you would buy.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and snorted. “Vanessa, I can’t even remember the last time I bought myself new clothes.”

Vanessa smiled, taking two steps towards Brooke and standing on tiptoe slightly as she leaned into the other woman. “Hmm. I think you look better without any on, anyway.”

Brooke gave a little murmur, draping Vanessa’s coat over the headboard of her couch before turning back to her. “You think that’s when I look best, yeah?”

“No, you look best when you’re naked and on top of me,” Vanessa purred, smiling naughtily before leaning in to kiss Brooke lightly once, twice, then deeply with her hands tangled in Brooke’s hair as Brooke eventually pulled away and led her to her bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest.

The sex had once again been amazing, minute after minute of complete unfiltered lust, and Brooke decided that inviting Vanessa back had been the best decision she’d ever made in her life. As her afterglow hit, she turned and threw her arm over Vanessa who rolled over, smiled, and laced her fingers with hers in a surprisingly intimate gesture that made Brooke’s heart melt.

“That was fun,” Vanessa said, her voice even more gravelly than usual. “You gon’ tell me how a well-educated Harvard grad learns to talk so nasty? Or is that part of the curriculum?”

“Oh, stop it,” Brooke rolled her eyes, reaching back and hitting Vanessa with a pillow in embarrassment. The other girl laughed loudly as she curled herself up into a ball, Brooke thumping her a couple more times before her arm got tired and she threw the pillow away in exhaustion. As her laughter died down, Vanessa gave a sort of contented sigh before she sat up in bed.

“Well, as amazing as that was…I guess I’d better leave now,” she shrugged a little, peering down the side of Brooke’s bed and quickly pulling her underwear on. Confused and a little sleepy, Brooke sat up.

“Oh no, I mean…don’t feel like you have to leave,” she stammered out slightly, wanting to hit herself for how pathetic and needy she sounded. Her worst fears came true as Vanessa smiled at her sadly.

“No, it’s okay, honestly. Thank you for having me round your lovely home,” she said quietly, the humble tone in her voice making Brooke want to scoop her up, take her in her arms and never let go of her. Brooke watched as Vanessa left for a moment and returned with her coat and her heels back on. She awkwardly stuck her head back in the door and gave a little wave.

“Bye, Brooke,” she said quickly, before ducking back out of the doorframe and walking back down the hall, where the front door clicked softly shut behind her.

Brooke. Not with a Ms. attached to it, not a ma’am, not anything else. Just her name on Vanessa’s lips, and even though the day hadn’t ended like Brooke had hoped, this had to be a good sign, surely?

***

On Monday morning, before work, Brooke went to Michael Kors and dropped $425 on a pink, faux fur coat without even so much as batting an eye. In any normal, rational situation, and if the coat had been for her, Brooke would have agonised over the decision for ages- would she get enough wear out of it, was it really worth it, did she have one like it already- but since it was for Vanessa, Brooke made the entire transaction as if she was under a spell. That was kind of how she felt whenever she was with Vanessa, or even thinking about her- enchanted, entranced, and completely and utterly irrational.

As she arrived at work, she had already planned how she was going to pitch things to Vanessa. Of course she’d bought the coat just for her, but that was going to seem fucking weird if she admitted it, especially when she didn’t even know if Vanessa had feelings for her or not yet. So as she walked towards her office and Vanessa’s desk, she slipped the box that the coat came in into an old, battered plastic bag and rehearsed what she would say in her head.

Vanessa spoke first, her eyes lighting up as she saw Brooke. “Hey! Morning, Ms. Brooke. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Did you get home okay on Friday?”

“Mhm. Slept so good afterwards as well,” Vanessa smiled lazily, stretching up to the ceiling. Brooke self-indulgently allowed herself to imagine waking up next to Vanessa on a rainy day and getting to hold her close and make her coffee and bring her breakfast. Fuck, now she was getting delusional. Completely smitten, Brooke put the bag on top of Vanessa’s desk as she spoke.

“Before I forget- remember the other night when we were talking about that coat you have? Well, I was just going through my closet this morning when I remembered, I actually do have one exactly like it,” she said, trying to keep her tone nonchalant and avoid Vanessa’s eyes as she slipped the bag off the box. “It got me thinking- I never actually wear it, and it’s still got all the tags on, so I thought you might get more wear out of it than I do.”

Brooke finally looked at the other girl, who had opened the box and was gazing at what was inside with her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. Brooke watched as Vanessa lifted the coat up to see it and then put it back down, running her fingers over the fur in disbelief. Vanessa picked out the tags against the label and frowned as she looked at them.

“Brooke,” she began, and Brooke’s heart jumped as she heard her name with nothing attached to it again. “This is Michael Kors.”

“Yeah?”

Vanessa frowned at her. “Well like…how much do you want for it? Because I don’t even know if I could stretch to two hundred this month, I got my phone bill coming soon and it’s already, like-”

“Vanessa,” Brooke interrupted, smiling and trying to hide her nerves. “You don’t…you don’t have to…uh. Just take it.”

Vanessa burst out a laugh, then screwed her face up as she looked at Brooke. “Wait. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Brooke was now so nervous that she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nodded. In haste, she added, “I mean, if you don’t like it I can just give it to charity, or sell it on Craigslist or…whatever.”

Vanessa smiled at Brooke as if she was an idiot. “Sell it on Craigslist, oh my fuckin’ God. I mean, no, I love it. If you’re sure I can just…take it?”

Brooke nodded shyly again. Vanessa gave a little exhale, raising her eyebrows. Finally, she looked up at Brooke and smiled. “Thank you so much, Ms. Brooke. I mean it. That’s real sweet of you.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it! As I say, I didn’t get much use out of it anyway,” Brooke smiled back, so happy her gift had been well received. She awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I guess I’d better get to work. But, uh, hey. Do you want to come round again tonight?”

“I can’t tonight, I’m getting my nails did,” Vanessa pouted. “Can we do tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. See you later,” Brooke gave a little wave and disappeared into her office. Sitting at her desk, she smiled as she watched Vanessa take the coat out of the box again, smile, hug it to her chest, and drape it over the back of her chair. Brooke didn’t have long to bask in her satisfaction- she had a firm meeting this morning and she needed to gather what she needed for that, but she couldn’t help looking at Vanessa through the blinds and allowing her heart to swell up, wondering if Vanessa’s was too.

Her contentedness lasted all of about ten minutes when Detox came barging through her office door and practically launched herself into the chair opposite Brooke before she could say “Hey, girl”.

“Okay, spill,” she suddenly said, Brooke’s heart giving a small jump but keeping herself cool.

“On aisle three? What the hell are you talking about, girl?” Brooke shook her head, clicking at something on her laptop and avoiding her friend’s gaze. She could hear Detox’s voice- faux-inquisitive, as if she already had all the answers.

“I just think it’s funny how your secretary is out there with a new coat. Never seen her wear it before. Obviously looks very expensive. Did she, I don’t know…come into some money, or something?”

“Fuck would I know, why are you asking me?” Brooke kept her tone detached, although a sense of dread was beginning to creep up on her. She finally looked at Detox, who had the biggest, largest, shit-eating grin on her face.

“Well, I don’t know, I thought you might know a little bit about it since, when I complimented her on it out there, she told me it was you that gave it to her.”

“Yeah, and what? It was an old coat, I never wear it, I gave it to her because she has one similar,” Brooke brushed her off, getting up to file something away.

“An old coat? How old was it, ten fuckin’ minutes? Because I know,” Brooke turned around to look at her friend, who had narrowed her eyes at her. “that that coat is from the current Michael Kors Spring/Summer collection, which only arrived in stores yesterday.”

Brooke’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. She said nothing as Detox paused, then carried on. “Now, I’m just wondering, Brooke…why would a lawyer buy her secretary a brand new five hundred dollar coat? And I’ve been going over it and over it in my mind and the only possible conclusion I can come to…is that you’re pussy whipped.”

Brooke looked at her friend, blinked, then frowned. “It was $425, actually.”

“You SON OF A BITCH-” Detox screamed, laughing as Brooke rushed across the room to shush her. “You are! You actually are, aren’t you? Oh my FUCKING God, this is the best day of my life. This is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Brooke Lynn Hytes is fucking her secretary. Oh my God.”

“Shut up, Jesus. It’s not a big deal.”

“NOT A BIG DEAL?! Oh my fuck- now, we can’t be talking a one-time thing, B, not if you’re buying her gifts and shit. How long?” Detox asked her excitedly, her eyes sparkling.

“I don’t know, like a month?”

“A FUCKING MONTH!” Detox screeched again, Brooke terrified that she would have the whole floor outside their door in a matter of minutes.

“D, you cannot tell anybody, I swear to God,” Brooke hissed, agonised.

“Why not, bitch? It’s not illegal. You’re not gonna get fired. We all know Frank from accounts has been having an affair with Ariel, jeez. That’s far worse.”

“Yeah, but…” Brooke frowned, trying to verbalise her feelings and realising they made her sound pathetic. She sighed deeply before she spoke. “If this gets around the office, then it’s just going to seem really seedy and weird and..I don’t want Vanessa to get embarrassed and to think she’s some cheap fucking Bratz doll because she’s actually a really fucking beautiful person and I…I really don’t want to fuck things up with her, okay?”

Brooke blushed as Detox laughed and grabbed her hand. “Aww, that is adorable. Fuck, it just gets better. Not only is Brooke Lynn Hytes fucking her secretary, not only is she a fucking Sugar Mommy to her secretary, but she is actually falling in love with her secretary. Jesus fuck, this is going to be the hardest secret to keep since I found out Paul hires hookers every Saturday.”

“I am not her fucking Sugar Mama, I got her one gift. Jesus Christ, D,” Brooke rolled her eyes as she grabbed her briefcase and made for the door. Stopping, she turned around. “Wait, what was that about Paul?”

Lying in bed that night, she felt as if her heart was never going to stop beating as fast as it did whenever she thought about Vanessa. Detox was being a dick- she wasn’t falling in love with her, that was dumb, they barely knew each other- but she desperately wanted to make things work with the girl. Still unable to stop thinking about her, Brooke rolled over in bed (which she hadn’t yet changed the covers of and never really wanted to), grabbed her phone from its charger, then typed a text to Vanessa without even thinking.

B: Hope you had a good day today. Sorry I never got to talk much :( Glad you liked the coat x

Within a few minutes there was a reply, Brooke smiling without even realising at the knowledge that Vanessa was up late too, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was up thinking about her.

V: my day was great thanks for asking!!! dont worry we can talk loads tomorrow night xo im actually wearing the coat right now if u wanna see xo

Brooke bit her lip as she threw one leg over the other and rolled over in bed, hoping this conversation was about to go the way she thought it was going. She texted Vanessa a simple yes and waited impatiently as she rubbed her thighs together, her heart leaping as a photo came almost instantly. As Brooke opened the message, she moaned as the picture filled the screen of Vanessa lying on top of her bed with the coat on but clearly nothing else, her golden hair fanned out on the pillow, and her perfect legs stretched out so that Brooke could see she’d kept her heels on.

B: Fuck, this is how I want you tomorrow night    

V: okay Mami xo

“Jesus,” Brooke breathed, teasing herself with her fingers as she stared at the picture and thought about her reply. Suddenly, another message came through.

V: are u touching yourself right now Brooke xo

There was her fucking name again, typed out and on the screen in front of her, and in that moment it was the sexiest thing she’d ever been sent.

B: You know I am

V: well stop. ur not allowed to until u see me tomorrow xo

Brooke frowned.

B: Is that a joke?

V: i’m not playing, baby xo

“Oh, fuck this,” Brooke hissed, frustrated and defiantly moving her fingers underneath the silk of her pyjamas as she looked up Vanessa’s name in her contacts and phoned her.

The bitch had the audacity to pick up after four rings. “Hi, Mami.”  

“What the hell are you playing at, you fucking tease, sending me that and telling me I’m not allowed to get off to it?” she hissed, her breathing all jagged as she felt how wet she was.

Vanessa’s tone came down the line all playful and mocking. “Is that any way to speak to your baby, Ms. Brooke?”

Brooke felt as if she was slowly melting with every word Vanessa spoke. She felt herself whine down the phone. “No, but it’s not fair. I mean, are you touching yourself?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m touching myself, imaginin’ you all hot and wet and frustrated and not bein’ able to have my tongue on you until tomorrow.” Vanessa’s voice was all breathy down the line, the end of her sentence punctuated by a little gasp that made Brooke buck her hips and moan suddenly. Vanessa’s voice came back down the line, stern. “I can hear you touching yourself, you fuckin’ whore. Tell me how wet you are.”

“Fuck, so wet, Mami,” Brooke gasped, shocking herself a little as she used that name she’d thought Vanessa had just reserved for her. She didn’t really know how Vanessa would react to it. If it was anything like the effect it had on her, then Brooke was about to use it a whole lot more often. She was rewarded with a breathy giggle and a sigh down the line.

“Be a good girl and take your hand out your pants.”

Brooke felt herself let out a pathetic sob as she wrenched her hand away. She didn’t know whether she would kiss Vanessa tomorrow or kill her. “Vanessa you drop this act and let me cum right now or I swear to God I’ll spank you so hard tomorrow you won’t be able to sit right for a month.”

Brooke heard Vanessa laugh down the phone. “Fuck, Mami, you know I like it when you talk to me like that.”

Brooke whined, guiltily trailing her hand back down between her thighs. Vanessa’s voice came sharp down the line.

“Brooke, you keep on touchin’ yourself like that and that picture is the only thing you’re gettin’ from me for the next week, and I’m serious,” Vanessa growled, Brooke rolling over helplessly in bed as she finally understood why Vanessa liked her speaking to her all authoritatively, and not being able to touch herself was pure torture.

“Fuck, you’re such a bitch,” she whined, tearing a hand through her hair as Vanessa laughed.

“Stop whinin’ and tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you so bad, Vanessa,” Brooke breathed, her heart feeling like it was about to give out.

“Tell me how much you’re going to punish me tomorrow for doin’ you like this.”

Brooke’s mind felt it was short-circuiting as she spoke, unsure if anything she was saying was making any sense. “I’m not even going to touch you. You’re going to have to fuck me and eat me out and make me cum hard, and I swear to God, Vanessa, it better be the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my fucking life or you’re getting put in my car and dropped off home, all dripping wet like a bad, dirty little slut, and you’re going to have to deal with what I did to you on your own.”

“Fuck, baby,” Vanessa’s voice was hot and urgent down the line, and with a pang of jealousy Brooke could tell she was close. A small, evil little part of her realised she held a lot of power in this moment. She deliberately yawned slowly and affected tiredness in her voice.

“You know what, actually, it’s getting pretty late…I should probably hang up-”

“Oh fuck, no, no, no-”

“Beg me.”

“Ay, fuck, pretty please Mami, please, please, por favor, Mami, me lo merezco, please-”

As Vanessa descended into desperate, feverish Spanish, Brooke cut off the call with a delicious sense of satisfaction. Returning her phone to its charger and jumping out of bed to take a freezing cold shower before she went to sleep, she decided that those $425 had been worth every penny.

***

The marble floor was freezing under Brooke’s bare feet as she carried two glasses of icy water through to the bedroom. The shock of going from the boiling hot bed into the chill of her flat had sobered Brooke up a little, and previously she’d been drunk on lust and a little bit of something that could be more. When her feet hit the soft cream carpet it was a welcome relief, and she quickly padded back over to the bed to where Vanessa lay staring, unblinking, at the ceiling as if she was under a spell.

“Here,” Brooke said gently, as she slipped under the covers and handed Vanessa one of the glasses. The other girl stirred a little, sitting up and fluffing a couple of pillows as she gratefully took one of the glasses and drank a huge gulp of water.

“Fuck. Don’t think I’ll need to go to the gym tonight after that,” she laughed quietly, moving to place the glass down on Brooke’s bedside table then stopping suddenly, her eyes darting around. Brooke suddenly realised what it was she was looking for and laughed.

“Don’t worry about coasters, just put the damn thing down.”

Doing as she was told, Vanessa put the glass down and then sank back under the covers, the two of them laying there silently for a moment. Brooke wanted so much to reach out and take Vanessa’s hand, but she also didn’t want to move unless the whole moment was a dream. Suddenly, she became aware that Vanessa had said something and was looking at Brooke for a reaction. Her face was calm and serene, and it made Brooke wish she had heard her the first time.

“What?”

Her heart fell as Vanessa looked down sheepishly, a light blush hitting her cheeks. “Nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Brooke could have pushed her for an answer, but something made her decide against it. Instead, she decided to take another leap. “Hey. You want to order food?”

Vanessa perked up and smiled, nodding enthusiastically.

“Can we get a big fuckin’ messy burrito? Aw wait,” she frowned, glancing at the huge marble clock built into the wall. She turned to Brooke and shrugged. “I should probably get goin’, huh.”

Brooke bit her lip. “You could, or…you could just stay here.”

Vanessa turned to Brooke and looked a little disbelieving. “Really?”

Brooke shrugged and nodded, wanting with every fibre of her being to stay chilled out and neutral despite the fact all of her was screaming silently for Vanessa to say yes. Vanessa smiled gently, reaching across the bed and resting her hand on top of Brooke’s. “That would be nice.”

That night, they hardly moved from the bed. They ordered burritos, like Vanessa had wanted, and watched whatever film had been on TV at the time, talking about little details of their lives that neither of them had known about the other before. When it got to midnight, Brooke realised they had said they would go to sleep an hour ago, but neither of them had been able to keep that promise, too intent on staying up and talking or kissing each other with every lull in conversation. When she saw the time, Brooke sighed in the darkness, pulling Vanessa in close to her.

“We should go to sleep, baby,” she yawned, kissing Vanessa’s neck lightly and wishing that time could stand still. Vanessa squirmed a little in Brooke’s arms as she got comfortable and swept her hair over her shoulder.

“Brooke, I meant to ask,” Vanessa murmured sleepily, and Brooke felt the sudden question make her hang by a thread. “Are we, uh…I mean. Are you thinking we should be exclusive or nah?”

Brooke suddenly tensed up, and she felt Vanessa grow tense underneath her as well. Why was she asking that? Did she want to be exclusive? Is that what she was asking? Or was she afraid of it, only asking when the lights were off and when Brooke couldn’t see her face or her reaction? She gave her another option too- or nah, giving herself an easy out. As Brooke frantically thought about it more and more in the seconds that followed Vanessa’s question, she had managed to completely convince herself that Vanessa absolutely hated the idea of a relationship with her and slightly breaking her own heart in the process.

“Brooke?”

Brooke swallowed. “Uh, no, I mean…we don’t have to be, I mean let’s not put a label on it. Go out with whoever you want, you know. That kind of thing doesn’t bother me, I’m not a jealous kind of person.”

She didn’t know if she’d imagined it, but she felt like Vanessa relaxed in her arms. It felt like a stab to the gut.

***

The plus side to Vanessa staying over was that she had to borrow some of Brooke’s work clothes for the next day, and seeing Vanessa in her own navy pant suit had made Brooke want to immediately tear it off her again. They’d talked and laughed on the way into work as they usually did, Brooke trying to ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach that she’d made a terrible mistake not immediately seizing the chance to make her her girlfriend.

The down side to Vanessa staying over and wearing Brooke’s pant suit was that Detox crashed through her office door around fifteen minutes after she arrived at work, excitedly pointing out to where Vanessa sat on the phone, oblivious.

“WHY is your secretary wearing your clothes?” Detox whisper-screamed, launching herself forward to grip Brooke’s arm.

“Oh, fuck off, D, are you really going to make me say it?”

“Fuck yes I am!”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Vanessa is wearing my clothes because she stayed over last night, Detox.”

“Fuck me with a baguette, this is the best day ever and it’s only 9.15,” Detox sighed, crashing down into Brooke’s chair as she watched her busy herself around the office. “So when are you asking her on a proper date?”

“Do you not have a caseload to be working on, or am I the only one around here that gets shit done?” Brooke scowled, not in any way in the mood for talking about her and Vanessa considering she’d just blown the whole thing.

“Excuse me, I finished all my cases last week! My new client doesn’t get here til 10. Jeez, what’s got you so touchy?”

Brooke sighed, slamming a huge lever-arch folder into a bookcase. “Vanessa asked me if we should be exclusive last night and I said no.”

“You absolute fucking grade A idiot,” Detox frowned, fixing Brooke with a look of disapproval. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“I don’t know!” Brooke exhaled loudly, tearing a hand through her hair. “It sounded like she was asking me because she didn’t want to be like that with me. So I panicked. I wanted to reassure her.”

“But fuck what you want, right? Look, Brooke, I haven’t seen you this happy since…well, maybe ever. And I also know that you don’t give up easy. At least, you normally don’t, but right now you’re like a kitten in a sock on a freeway and you’ve just accepted your fate.”

“Okay, what’s your advice, Dr fucking Phil?” Brooke raised an eyebrow at her.

“Exclusivity doesn’t matter at this stage, right? I mean, you’ve not even been on a date. So, that’s what you should do.”

“What, ask her on a date?”

“No, yeet yourself off Brooklyn Bridge in a pair of Heelys, fuck yes ask her on a date!” Detox became impassioned, slamming Brooke’s desk and quickly shutting herself up as her eyes darted to the door. Brooke’s heart stopped as Vanessa came in, smiling apologetically and holding a small sticky note.

“Sorry to interrupt- hi, Ms. Detox,” she said softly. “Mr. Blake phoned to cancel his appointment today, he’s got shingles.”

“Hah! Shingles. Is that what they’re calling a hangover these days,” Detox piped up. Vanessa smiled politely then carried on.

“I also wanted to ask, Ms. Brooke, am I able to leave early next Monday night? Like half an hour or so,” Vanessa asked her, darting her eyes to Detox as if she was wishing she wasn’t there.

“Uh, that’s fine, yeah,” Brooke shrugged, distracted by everything going on in her head. “What for?”

Vanessa looked startled, as if the question had been unexpected. “Oh, uh…just a doctor’s appointment, you know.”

“BULLSHIT!” Detox suddenly exploded, scaring them both. “All the doctor’s surgeries close at 4, so leaving at half 4 wouldn’t get you shit. Half 4 is like, prime nail and hair appointment times. The question is…who are you getting your hair and nails done for, Vanessa?”

Brooke narrowed her eyes at her friend as she watched Vanessa laugh awkwardly and blush. “Detox, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t have to tell you-”

“I’m going on a date, actually,” Vanessa said casually, making Brooke’s whole world stop, freeze and shatter like ice. She was aware Vanessa was looking at her to gauge her reaction, and Brooke was trying her best not to look horrified, but she was aware she probably wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Oh. Cool! No, that’s…that’s fine. And I mean, it’s none of my business anyway, so-”

“That’s such a coincidence actually, because Brooke was just about to ask you something!” Detox smiled at Vanessa, then turned her head to look at Brooke patiently.

Brooke was going to slap the bitch. She fixed a fake smile to her face. “Gee, well, I would, Detox, but there’s a loud, obnoxious, LA whore in my office.”

Finally, mercifully, Detox smiled wickedly and slinked away out of the room, making sure to shut the door before retreating back down the corridor. It left the two of them alone together- Vanessa standing opposite Brooke, still gazing at her with interest.

“So, uh, what was that thing you were gonna ask me?” Vanessa scratched the back of her neck and looked to the floor, as if she was embarrassed.

“Well, uh,” Brooke started, equally as embarrassed but aware that she needed to find something to say. “I was, um. Going to ask you out too.”

Brooke’s heart gave a jump as she saw Vanessa’s face brighten up in surprise. “Oh!”

“Yeah, but, uh, you know, no big deal if you’re already going out with this other girl or guy or…whatever,” Brooke stammered her way through her sentence and watched as Vanessa’s smile grew bigger and bigger.

She laughed softly. “He’s a guy. His name is Nate.”

Brooke had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course it fucking is. Breathing deeply, she shrugged and moved to sit behind her desk. “Cool. Like I say, it doesn’t matter if you’re already going out with him.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, I can go out with you and I can go out with him. And I mean, it’s not as if you get jealous, right?” Vanessa commented offhandedly, a little sparkle in her eye sending a sudden flood of tension through the room, and Brooke wasn’t giving in to whatever Vanessa was doing.

“Exactly, yeah. So, uh, is that…”

Vanessa broke into a smile. “It’s a yes. I would like to go on a date with you.”

Brooke tried and failed to bite back a smile which burst out over her face. “Amazing! I mean, fine, yeah. It’s just casual, really, isn’t it?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Vanessa instantly replied. Fuck, how was she so good with her words when Brooke felt like a melted puddle on the floor?

“Can we say, um…” Brooke pretended to look at the diary which she knew was empty. “Friday night?”

“Friday night is good,” Vanessa smiled, biting her lip.

“Good.”

“Good,” Vanessa replied, smiling and locking eyes with her before looking out to her desk where the phone was ringing. “I should go-”

“Yeah, sure,” Brooke nodded frantically, as Vanessa flashed her one last smile and rushed back out to her seat. Brooke hadn’t quite known what had just happened. There were so many things she was feeling, and they weren’t all positive (who the fuck walks around in this day and fucking age with a name like Nate) but she found her heart soaring as one main thought stuck in her mind.

I asked Vanessa on a date, and she said yes.

***

In the time it had taken for Brooke to push her finger to the buzzer at Vanessa’s flat and for Vanessa to appear at the bottom of her stairwell, a thousand thoughts had already seized the chance to run through Brooke’s mind and taunt her. Her outfit- a silk, emerald-green mid-length dress- was too much, and so was her makeup. Her hair looked ridiculous down, all long and wavy and in the way- she would book a haircut tomorrow. Vanessa had probably changed her mind about the entire night, and she was going to look ridiculous standing outside a slightly run-down apartment block in her evening wear. Why had she brought flowers? Vanessa probably didn’t even like lilies, and these were blue ones at that, Christ, what the fuck had she been thinking? The restaurant she’d chosen was too much. It was too opulent and would be too much for Vanessa and it’d intimidate her and she’d want to go home. Did she even like seafood? Fuck, was she allergic to seafood?! Would she be too polite to say she couldn’t have anything on the menu and end up eating a scallop and sending herself into anaphylactic shock?!

Brooke was near enough having a panic attack by the time the front door opened to reveal Vanessa, and what she was wearing only made Brooke ten times more nervous. She stood, visibly nervous, in tall sparkling gold heels, with a gold and silver dress that was dripping in a fringe of jewels to match. Her long hair was loose and wavy like Brooke’s, but hers managed to look so much better than Brooke’s own. Her makeup was beautiful, but Brooke felt she could have opened the door with a bare face and she’d still have looked perfect.

Brooke spoke first. “Hey. You look gorgeous.”

Vanessa scrunched her face up and laughed. “Comin’ from you. Jesus. I feel like a bag of garbage. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”  

Brooke blushed, and Vanessa seemed to feel a little shy about her outburst as she blushed and looked to the ground. Straightening up, Brooke saw her take a deep breath. “Sorry. Should we, uh-”

“Sure! Oh-” Brooke nervously thrust the bouquet of flowers out in front of her, a bewildered Vanessa taking them in her arms. “These are for you. The colour’s kind of crazy, so you probably won’t like them, but none of the other flowers seemed to suit you, so…”

“The fuck is that meant to mean?” Vanessa laughed, as they reached Brooke’s car and she held the passenger door open for her. “What happened to a red rose or some shit?”

Brooke tilted her head as she tried to explain her reasoning. “Yeah, but they’re so…conventional and classic and very not you. I couldn’t get you any white flowers because that would imply some form of purity,” she raised an eyebrow and Vanessa gave a guilty little sultry laugh. “So I found these. But there isn’t really a flower that can describe you. There isn’t really anything that can describe you.”

Brooke locked eyes with the girl opposite the car to her, who was smiling with her cheeks flushed a little red, and she suddenly realised how intense she’d sounded. Suddenly, Vanessa laughed.

“No, I love them. Thank you. God, why we so nervous about this?” she exclaimed. “I mean most people usually go on a date and then fuck. We got the hard part out the way, this is s’posed to be easy.”

“Right,” Brooke laughed in reply, even though she wanted to tell Vanessa that she was wrong, that the sex was the easy part because they could throw up a front where the only language was touching and kissing and rough and gentle, and if they did speak it was a thousand times easier than anything she’d say tonight because calling the girl she cared so much about a whore and a slut and a bitch when they were under the covers and slick against each other was so much easier than telling her how Brooke actually felt about her.

But Brooke didn’t say all that, of course- she jumped into the car and motioned for Vanessa to join her and the two of them were off on their way to dinner, and Brooke’s nerves weren’t dissipating a single bit.

“So where are you takin’ me? All you said was dress fancy,” Vanessa asked, a little smile to her voice that calmed Brooke down only a little.

“It’s called Le Bernardin. Basically a seafood restaurant, but then I realised while I was waiting on you to come down that I never checked if you liked seafood or not, so if we end up eating McChickens in a car park somewhere then I’ll understand.”

Vanessa gave a little bark of laughter. “No, no don’t worry. I actually love seafood. So is this place like Red Lobster?”

Brooke stifled a laugh- they were about to go and eat from a two hundred and twenty five dollar tasting menu, and Vanessa would have been happy with Red Lobster. “Yeah, a little.”

It was only when Brooke had parked the car, walked with Vanessa into the restaurant, and been sat at their table for a few moments that Vanessa spoke up.

“Brooke,” she said with wide eyes, after having peeked at her menu. “This ain’t like Red Lobster at all, you know.”

Brooke spluttered a laugh, then had to stifle it as the sommelier approached their table. He reeled off all the different wine recommendations, Brooke having to bite the inside of her cheeks as she watched Vanessa’s face grow more and more incredulous with every word he spoke. As he finally reached the end of his spiel and asked Vanessa what she wanted to drink, she cast her eyes to the bar.

“Yeah, uhh, lemme get a French martini,” she said, leaning back in her chair. The sommelier cast a glance to Brooke, who smiled politely.

“Whatever the lady wants,” she smiled, Vanessa smiling back at her cheekily. Brooke ordered a bottle of champagne and watched with mirth as the sommelier walked away shaking his head.

“They got caviar here. Damn, this is a real nice place,” Vanessa said softly, looking at Brooke with concern. “I don’t really know how I’m gonna be able to-”

“Vanessa. I’m paying,” Brooke cut her off, holding her hand up to stop the other girl protesting. “It’s me taking you out on a date. So I’m the one that pays. Have literally whatever you want, I don’t give a fuck.”

Vanessa bit her lip and smiled. “It’s real nice of you to treat me to all this, Ms. Brooke. I won’t complain.”

“Well. You deserve nice things, so,” Brooke shrugged, sensing the shift in atmosphere as she made eye contact with the other girl. Suddenly, she broke it as a waitress appeared with their drinks, Vanessa’s eyes growing wide with delight as her martini appeared in front of her with a wedge of pineapple stuck at the side. They got two glasses of champagne poured, and Brooke held hers up to Vanessa’s.

“What are we toasting to?” she asked, Vanessa tilting her head in thought.

“It is cringey if we say us?”

“It’s not cringey, it’s nice,” Brooke smiled, touching their glasses together lightly. “To us, then.”

“To us,” Vanessa repeated shyly, Brooke amazed at how different she seemed already this evening, how nervous and quiet she was. It was such a change.

They passed much of the evening the same way, talking in dropped tones as if they were whispering. Vanessa ordered a seafood platter and caviar, just so she could say she’d tried it, and Brooke laughed as she took the tiny spoonful she’d been given and scrunched up her face. When her platter arrived, Brooke watched Vanessa look at the heads of the langoustines with interest, before showing her how to take them off. She was currently watching in slight awe as she shucked the oysters surprisingly well.

“It’s like a shot of fish. A fish shot,” Vanessa shrugged, giving Brooke the verdict on the oysters.

“Classy,” Brooke smirked, Vanessa sticking her tongue out at her in response.

“It’s a shame Detox couldn’t have been here. You should have invited her. Then again, she’s prolly outside with a huge cup pressed against the wall,” Vanessa suddenly said from nowhere, Brooke rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry about her the other day. She’s an idiot, but she’s also my friend, so I guess I’m stuck with her,” Brooke pinched the bridge of her nose. Vanessa smiled.

“She’s sweet. So she knows about us then?” she said, clearly feigning disinterest. Brooke panicked.

“Yeah, but I made her promise not to tell anyone.”

Vanessa avoided Brooke’s eyes as she picked apart a clam. “Why, ‘cuz you’re ashamed of me?”

“What? No, Jesus, no. I just don’t want…” Brooke wanted to tell Vanessa everything, but her mouth wouldn’t allow the words to come out. “I don’t want the whole office knowing and chipping in their two cents all the time.”

To her relief, Vanessa didn’t seem offended. “That’s fair. Told my friends about you and that was bad enough.”

Brooke smiled. She liked the thought of Vanessa telling other people about her. “What did they say?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “So there’s Silky and Akeria. Silky basically screamed in my ear for a solid half hour. Bitch is nuts. Akeria was like fuckin’ Oprah tryin’ to get all the details. And I mean all the details.”  

“Like what?”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow and gave Brooke a wink. “You know exactly what.”

Brooke shifted in her seat. “Did you tell her?”

“What the fuck do you think, bitch? She got nothin’ from me. Give a girl some credit,” Vanessa rolled her eyes and jabbed a scallop with her fork.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur of champagne bubbles and hushed conversation, Brooke realising halfway through the evening that she had forgotten she’d taken her car, but it didn’t matter. She could get an Uber home, and as she paid the bill she realised with a pang that she didn’t really want the night to end. As the doorman grabbed their coats, Brooke felt a stab to her heart as Vanessa gave a little satisfied sigh, signalling that the night was over.

“Can’t believe you forgot you brought your car,” Vanessa laughed as Brooke finished up ordering her Uber.

“Are you sure you don’t want dropped off? We can go past your flat-”

“Nah, don’t worry. I can get the subway home, it’s not far. Well, thank you for a lovely time, Ms. Brooke,” she smiled, shrugging on her coat. “This was maybe the classiest first date I’ve ever been on.”

Brooke ran her tongue over her teeth as she got her own coat and opened the door for her, pausing until they were back out on the sidewalk to speak again. The evening was beginning to get dark but the streetlamps weren’t lit just yet, and the warmth from the day still hung heavy in the air. “So do I get to take you on a second?”

Vanessa pursed her lips in consideration, smiling playfully as she began to walk away from her. “I’ll need to think about it. Got a lot of demand, you know. Seeing this Nate on Monday. But this was fun, Ms. Brooke,” she said lightly as she turned around. “See you Monday.”

And as Vanessa began to walk away and Brooke saw her Uber pull up beside her, something inside her snapped and broke from all the tension. It was too much for her any more. Ignoring the car that began to toot its horn at her in frustration, Brooke ran as fast as she could to Vanessa, grabbed her hand and spun her round. The last thing she saw was Vanessa’s shocked face as she took her face in her hands and kissed her, rough and protective and jealous, and Vanessa must have been able to tell because Brooke could feel her smile against her lips as Vanessa brought a hand up to tangle in her hair.

As Brooke broke the kiss, she started speaking and wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to stop. “I was wrong. I was a fucking idiot, actually. I do get jealous. Well, I never thought I did, but I do. I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else, kissing someone else, feeling some type of way about anyone else. And I’m frustrated it’s taken me this long to admit it because, what, I can tell you all the things I want you to do to me when we’re naked but I can’t tell you straight how I feel about you?”

Brooke was scared, frightened, terrified, all of that, but as she looked down she saw Vanessa’s eyes shining in the small amount of light they had on the street, and her smile beaming at her. She seemed so happy and it made Brooke wonder- had Vanessa wanted this all along? “I really fucking like you, Vanessa. That’s why I didn’t want Detox telling anyone about us, because if I fuck this up with you it’ll be the worst mistake I’ve made in my life and everyone would know, and I don’t want people thinking it’s just some fling between the lawyer and her secretary because fuck, I thought that was all it was too but then it just became so much more than that? It started to be about making you happy, and making you laugh, and getting to be close to you and spend time with you, and that scared me so much, you know? And that was why when you asked me if we should be exclusive I said no, because I started overthinking and I didn’t think you wanted that so I just went with it because I thought it’d make you happy, but now I feel like I’ve made a huge fucking mistake and-” Brooke cut herself off as she suddenly gasped for air, pulling Vanessa in close to her and being suddenly so afraid of losing her. She looked into her eyes as she spoke. “Please don’t go on that fucking date on Monday, Vanessa. Please be my girlfriend instead.”

The blood in Brooke’s veins gave a jump as she heard Vanessa gasp with delight as she spoke the word girlfriend, filling Brooke’s heart with so much hope that she felt as if she was on the very edge of a cliff, and if Vanessa said no now she might well go into cardiac arrest. In reply, Vanessa stood on her tiptoes and kissed Brooke gently, stroking her thumb against her cheek in an affectionate gesture that made Brooke want to melt. As Vanessa broke the kiss, she bit her lip and smiled. “God, Brooke, all you had to do was ask. Yes I’ll be your girlfriend. Jesus.”

And Brooke was suddenly so blinded with happiness that she picked up Vanessa, her girlfriend, her fucking girlfriend, and spun her around in the air in the middle of the street, the two of them laughing and giggling like teenagers and Brooke’s heart beating at a deafening pitch in her ears because she said yes, Vanessa was her girlfriend, Vanessa was her girlfriend, and the future was suddenly so bright and exciting and optimistic and full of colour and Brooke could suddenly see the beauty in every single little thing around them, even the fucking bins.

“There was no Nate, by the way,” Vanessa laughed, making Broke stop suddenly and put her down.

“What?”

“There was no Nate. And there was no date. I just wanted to make you jealous.”

“Well, you succeeded,” Brooke laughed, lacing her hand in Vanessa’s.

“I panicked. Said his name was Nate because it rhymed with date.”

Brooke burst out laughing and pressed a kiss to Vanessa’s hair. “You’re so stupid.”

She realised that neither of them had a clue where they were walking. Vanessa seemed to sense the same thing as she suddenly stopped, smiled seductively, and rested her hands on Brooke’s waist. “All night I’ve been thinking that dress would look better on the floor.”

Brooke let out a small whine. There was nobody, not a single person on earth, who could make her feel like Vanessa made her feel, and Brooke wouldn’t trade that for the world. “Come back with me?”

Vanessa leaned in and smiled, pressing her lips against Brooke’s before teasingly breaking away.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[superwolfiestar]

Across Another Dimension Ch.43

Donald walk in the library where everyone else is waiting for the rain to stop. The children were fast asleep on the floor next to the fireplace due from their crazy adventure to find a crystals sharps. Donald sat on the comfy sofa next to Boy Princess Donald as the pink duck pour some warm tea for him and hand it to Donald.

“Thank you.” Donald smile as he took a sip of the tea.

“Where is your Panchito going?” Boy Princess Donald ask.

“I don’t know.” He answer. “Let not focus on that, we need to come up with the idea of how we can free my Jose from the painting.”

Jose then began to speak. “Hey! I remember something.” He said, the gang look at him.

“Really? What did you remember?” Princess Della ask him.

“I remember that Panchito was also trap in the same situation like your friend Jose by King Baron Vom Sheldgoose. Professor Gyro has made a machine to get him out of the painting. I don’t know if Professor Gyro still have that machine but it’s the only thing I could think off. But I don’t know if machine work.” Jose suggests.

“Oh yeah.” Panchito recall, “I remember that, you just randomly won a mansion that you didn’t enter.” He look at Jose.

“Yeah I remember that.” Jose remember.

“When you defeat King Sheldgoose, you brought me to Professor Gyro and he help me get out of the painting that King Sheldgoose put me in!”

While they are chatting about their last in counter by the King. Boy Princess Donald began to stand up and head toward the exited of the library and leave as Donald follow him behind.

The pink duck began to wonder around the part of the mansion, he decided to be adventurous like the girl in the story he read when he was a little duckling and walk up the stairs of the mansion. He was the only one up there, so he was a bit nervous that he would get in trouble for going somewhere he shouldn't have. At the top of the stairs, he saw a hallway full with painting and portraits. He walk down the hallway and admire of the historical paintings.

As he was walking down, he notice a portrait of the beautiful deer woman with blond hair sitting on the beautiful chair, she wore a dress and the fabric is Pink Moire Bengaline. Self piping around the sleeves, neckline and bottom of the top. Bodice is boned and fully lined. Lace up on the back. And includes modesty panel. And a gorgeous off white moire bonnet with lace and flowers. In both of her hands was a beautiful close pink fan, in her beautiful blond hair was a beautiful pink small tiny roses on each side of her hair.

On her neck was a necklace is handmade out of two rows of faux glass pearls in a rose pink tone with a faux opal and rose gold pendant in the center strung with elastic and finished with a silver tone lobster clasp and chain. Her left side of her wrist was a bracelets that are made with a stretchy elastic and tied with a tight knot. Pale rose pearls are accented against a rose gold pendant with a faux opal center. On her middle finger on her right side was a beautiful ring.

“Must be the engagement ring…” He though, he then continue to admire this portrait

On her right was man who’s also a deer, he have brown hair. Boy Princess Donald began to think that man must be the Master that own this Mansion and he wore this style jacket which was widely used from the early 1800’s well into the 1850’s making it ideal for Regency or Dickens events.

Exclusively designed and hand finished for him, This Regency Coat features all the style and sensibility sported by well-dressed men from centuries past. Black velvet appoints the collar and cuffs. Silver metal buttons provide a bright contrasting accent against a backdrop of black brocade. Two pockets outfit the interior, providing room for small furnishings and what-nots. Also features braided trim on the front and two buttons at the top of the rear tails. And lastly, he wore a black pant.

In the background behind, was a appear to be a beautiful vintage red wallpaper, a dark green curtain on the left side of the painting, and the pillar on the right.

Boy Princess Donald saw the bottom and it have the print their name and date that read:

MASTER WILLIAM GRACEY AND HIS FIANCÉE LADY EMILY DE CLAIRE, NOVEMBER 8, 1870.

“Your highness?”

Boy Princess Donald jump as he was spook by the voice. He turn and see Emily the ghost bride standing in front of him. “Emily! Why… you scare me!” He said.

“Forgive me your highness.” Emily began to apologize. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“That’s quite alright Emily,” he reply smile. “You just scare me by surprise.”

“Also, is that you in the portrait?” He pointed to the painting. Emily look up and see the portrait that Boy Princess Donald is pointing at.

Emily let out the sight. “Yes.” She reply, “That’s me and the Master of this Mansion, William Gracey.”

“Emily,” Boy Princess Donald look her.

“Yes?” Emily look down at him.

“Emily… can I ask you a question?” Boy Princess Donald ask her.

“Sure your highness...” said Emily. “Tell me…”

“Well… um…” said Boy Princess with a shaky voice. “I-I wanted to know…”

There was a moment a silent, Boy Princess look away from her and stare at the ground. Emily waited patiently as she let him take his time. Then Boy Princess Donald look back up at her and four words come out of this beak.

“H-how did you died?”

[thebluesideofmyworld]

I Like Me Better (Chapter 10) - A Solangelo Fic

Chapter 10:  Is it alright if I come 'round? Is it too late if I come now?

(Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9) || Read on AO3

Chapter Summary:  The one where Nico came around, and stayed for a little while

Leo was the one who called his name from the counter when Nico’s order was ready. Despite the slight strange disappointment, Nico gave Leo a small smile as he grabbed his drink.

He took a sip from the carton cup as he went back to the chair that he was sitting. He checked his phone. The small digital number at the corner of the screen showed that it was barely 5 minutes after 7. He probably should head back to his apartment.

Then he heard an almost melodious laughter that made him lifted his head up, glancing at the counter. A small part of his mind vaguely wondered why that voice was now something almost terrifyingly familiar.

Will was standing behind the counter with Leo. Leo was telling something that made Will laugh, and hit him with the checkered cloth that he was holding. Leo said something else, before walked away and disappeared behind a door.

Nico watched as Will shook his head, an amused smile gracing his lips as he wiped the surface of the counter. Nico was absently thinking about the way Will’s hair looked like softly glowing in golden color under the orange light when Will turned his head. Their eyes met, and Nico caught off guard.

Nico’s heart skipped a beat.

Will flashed him a small, shy smile, then continued wiping the counter. There was a funny pull in Nico’s chest.

He took another sip as he checked his phone again.

Maybe he could stay for just… a little while. Just a couple of minutes.

Besides, maybe today is his lucky day to win that level in Candy Crush.

***

That couple of minutes turned out to be almost an hour.

It was not like Nico did not want to leave or anything. But every time he thought of leaving, there would be a customer coming in, which meant that Will would greet them. A warm voice that would made Nico turned his head to the counter, as Will talking with the customer with that bright smile. Then suddenly he thought, well… maybe he’d stay for just another 5 minutes.

He lifted his cup to take another sip, then he realized that he almost finished his drink. He absently tapped the cup, thinking maybe it was really the time for him to leave the coffee shop. But maybe… Just maybe he could get another drink? Not coffee. Maybe hot chocolate? Surely they hav-

“Bye, Will!”

Nico’s head snapped to the counter, and he saw Leo waved at Will. Will waved back at Leo and pushed the swinging panel that separated the counter from the customer area of the coffee shop.

“Bye, Leo!” Will said. He no longer wore the light blue apron, but there was a green backpack on his shoulder now.

Nico decided that yes, it was really time for him to leave.

Not that it was because Will was about to go. He had been here for longer than he expected anyway, so really, it-

“Hey, Nico!”

“Oh, hey,” Nico replied, unconsciously grabbing his cup.

Will smiled. “So, you like it?” He asked, gesturing with his chin to the cup that Nico was holding.

Nico nodded. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

Will’s smile got wider. “I know you’re going to like it.”

“So… uh… You’ve finished working?” Nico asked, trying his best to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Will gave him a single nod. “Yeah. My shift today ends at 8.”

Nico quickly glanced at his phone that was lying on the table. It’s almost ten minutes past 8 now.

“Oh, I am also about to go now,” Nico stood up. “Want to walk together?”

Nico blinked when he realized what he just said. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore how the back of his neck was heating up.

“I… I mean,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “We’re heading the same way, right? Uhm, neighbors?”

How on earth he suddenly became someone who was incompetent in making a sensible sentence???

A surprised expression flashed on Will’s eyes.

“Uh…” he said, looking hesitant. “I.. I mean… I’d love to. But I… I need to go to the library now.”

Nico’s brows furrowed down. “To the library? At this hour?”

“It’s not that late yet,” Will said, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “Besides, it’s open until midnight. I still have some time to work on some stuff until they close.”

“Oh,” Nico said. Strangely his stomach felt a bit heavy. “Uhm. Okay.”

“Maybe next time?”

Nico chuckled. “Why are you so sure that I will come here again?”

“Well…” Will said. “You are here now. And I mean… who knows…”

Nico could not decide whether Will was really blushing or it was just the light playing tricks on him Before he could really think about it, Will cleared his throat.

“So… Uhm… Yeah… I… I guess… I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, trying to ignore the weird disappointment in his stomach. “I’ll see you.”

“So,” Will ran a hand over his head. “Uh. Bye, Nico.”

Nico nodded. “Bye, Will.”

Will turned on his heels and made his way to the door. He pushed the door open. But before he walked out, he turned his head to Nico, and smiled at him. Nico didn’t even realize that his lips were tugging up to return the smile as he waved at Will, rather awkwardly.

Then Will disappeared.

Nico bowed his head down, staring at the tip of his black combat boots.

He sighed.  It was really really time to go now. For real. Nico grabbed his cup, and threw it to the bin as he walked out to the door.

***

A few hours later, Nico was lying on his bed, his with his phone on his hand. Nico stared at Will’s profile picture on Facebook. Wearing an orange shirt, Will was smiling so bright. Orange was not Nico’s favorite color but damn, it looked good on Will Solace. And it was almost ridiculous that even through a frozen picture, his smile could still look so warm like that.

Nico chewed his lower lip again, scrolling down the screen. There was not much information about Will that he put up for public. Just that he was a student at University of Delphi (Nico knew that already. Duh). He is in the pre-med program (Nico didn’t know that before). He came from a small town in Tennessee (Oh, so that’s where that slight accent come from). And that’s all. There were some pictures of him with some other people. Nico recognized Leo in one of the pictures. From the background, Nico could see that the picture was taken in The Oracle. Besides Will and Leo, there was also another tall guy with black hair and green eyes, who had his arms resting comfortably around the shoulder of a blond girl.

Nico scrolled back up. He and Will only had one mutual friend, Jason.

Nico’s eyes darted to the small “Add Friend” icon as he chewed his lower lip.

Then he sighed and shook his head. He tapped the home button that brought him back to some pictures and status updates of his friends.

He tapped his screen again until his wallpaper of his phone’s main screen showed up. Nico placed his phone on his nightstand and turned off the light.

***

Author’s Notes:

Chapter title is from the song Coming Over by Dillon Francis, Kygo, James Hersey 

As always, comments and feedbacks are always welcomed :)

I know that the chapters that I post are relatively short. I am just wondering, which one that you guys prefer: longer chapter but more sporadic updates (like maybe every two weeks), or this kind of short chapter (1000-1300 words) but updated regularly (every Friday for sure and maybe on Sunday or Wednesday too)?

 Thank you for reading :D

[thegreatescape]

My experience at the HVFF

This is going to be a very long post about my experience at the HVFF (sorry for my terrible English).

So, when we arrived, on our left, we saw Milo Ventimiglia and we almost fainted in front of him because we didn't expect to see him so close to the entrance lol Infact we were shocked when we saw John Barrowman few seconds later on our right too haha

Then my friends and I went immediately to Robin's stand and when we saw him we all freaked out -damn, he's so good looking and he seems like 28, not 39 :O- So we stood right next to him (not in the queue) and when he saw us he waved and smiled at us (his smile is so bright and cute, I almost melted).

Then I met Em, Julia (@robinllordtaylor) and Jen (@christopherpaulcolfers) and they're absolutely adorable ;-; I'm so happy that I've finally met them -I love you so much girls!

Then we all went to Robin's photo-op and when I saw him I asked him if we could hug and he said 'Of course, sweetie!' and he smiled again. So I picked up my bags and I showed my hand to my friend -because I was literally shaking- and Dickie (Robin's husband) saw me and he laughed -lol I was sooo embarrassed!

Then we went at the Gotham panel but I don't remember everything they said... But when the interviewer talked about the couples and mentioned Nygmobblepot everyone screamed out lout (video here: https://www.instagram.com/p/BUt6B2BDV_P/?taken-by=giulsholfer ) and Robin laughed and changed the subject and talked about Alfred's terrible love life lol

At the end of the panel we went to Robin's stand again and there I witnessed the funniest thing ever: my dear friend Alexa (@rainbowthirteen) asked Robin to sign her 'Nygmpowerbottom' pic (video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsc_JEy1nW8 // gifset: http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161274349417/few-days-ago-i-took-this-video-of-my-friend )

Then it was my turn and it went pretty much like this:

Robin held my hand and said: 

-Hi, nice to meet you! What's your name?

-Hi, I'm Giulia. First of all, sorry for my English.

-Where are you from?

-Venice, Italy.

-Oh, Italy! Well, my Italian is terrible too. The only word I know is 'prego'. (he was so adorable when he said that with his accent hufodsiafshoi) Is it correct, right?

-Yes, it's correct! So... (I gave him my drawing, this one:)

-Do you want me to sign this pic?

-Ehm, no. This is a drawing for you!

-A draw-- what?! OH.MY.GOD!!! I thought it was a picture!! (he called his manager and told her that it was a drawing) Look at the details! Oh my God, it's so impressive! You're so talented.

And his manager: Oh my, it's better than the original!

And Robin: Yeah! Wait... (he looked at her pretending to be offended) thank you!? (and they laughed.)

Robin hold my hand and complimented my drawing again, and I gave him the t-shirt.

-I hope it fits.

-OH MY GOD! It's my cat Finn! Look! She put a picture of my cat and... Oh, wonderful.

-Actually, it's a drawing.

-You drew this too? Oh my God that's amazing! You're so talented omg!

And his manager: She's spoiling you! And him: Definitely!

-It looks like a picture, thank you so much!!

(gifset: http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161254744987/when-i-gave-my-t-shirt-to-robin-with-a-drawing-of )

Then I asked him to give Cory my present for him (a tshirt -yeah, with that terrible guinea pig bc Cory is obsessed with it lmao- and a drawing) 

because he cancelled his participation few weeks before the fanfest so I had my gifts already done and Robin was SO kind to me. Here's the moment: http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161311350147/ill-be-forever-grateful-thank-you-robin

-Come here, let me hug you!

-Love you.

-Love you too.

(gifset: http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161292214277/robin-and-i-after-i-gave-him-a-drawing-of-oswald )

Then we went to Sean's stand and I gave him another drawing ( https://www.instagram.com/p/BOiI9ULgbFF/?taken-by=giulsholfer ) and he complimented me and said something like:

-Oh my God, can I keep it?!

-OF COURSE! (I mean, I thought it was obvious haha)

He was sooo sweet and he hugged me twice ;-; ( https://www.instagram.com/p/BUsdGniDIHZ/?taken-by=giulsholfer )

Drew was right next to him so we decided to go all together and do a group pic. Me and Em had two cutouts of Cory

and when Drew saw them he yelled:

-OH MY GOD! That's so creepy! But beautiful! Wait...

He took his mobile phone and asked us to pose with the cutouts and thEN HE TEXTED CORY IN FRONT OF US!!! HE LITERALLY SENT OUR PIC TO HIM -I'm still screaming-

So he said:

-Okay, I get it that Cory is your favorite BUT who's your second favorite?

And we -laughing-: YOUUUU!

He laughed too and said “You'll have my gratitude forever!”

When we told him that we are all friends and we're from Italy, Great Britain, Germany and Argentina he said: “You should start a girl band called 'The Cory Smith!'

Then we took like 20 pics (he's so sweet and funny istg and he gives the best hugs) and he even put Cory’s face on his lmao

 And at some point a guy run towards us and photobombed us and we were like 'Hey you didn't pay for the pic!' but then we noticed that it was fREAKING BRANDON ROUTH! And my friend screamed: OH MY GOD! SUPERMAN PHOTOBOMBED US!

Then I went to Milo's stand and while we were queueing I was taking a looot of picture till he caught me. I smiled guilty and he laughed and said: Don't worry, take as many pics as you want!

When I arrived in front of him the conversation was this:

"Hi! Nice to meet you! Omg this is an ooooold picture!"

"Well, you're always beautiful."

"Aw, thank you! What's your name?"

"Giulia."

"Italia!"

"Yes! I'm from Venice."

"Bella! How do you spell Giulia?"

-I had a panic attack and I wasn't even able to spell my name lmfao-

"Give me your phone."

"Yeah thank u, bc I'm shaking."

"Aww, no." -he took 3 pics-

"Can I hug you?"

"Sure! Certo! È stato un piacere." (He said it in italian and I melted)

Then he hugged me tight ;-;

The second day we went to Robin's stand in the morning. I talked about my social anxiety and that I was there just to meet him and he said that he has the same phobia and that he was so happy that I was able to face my fears to meet him. 

But the thing that made my heart jumping was the first thing he said to me:

-Oh, hi! I was looking forward to seeing you again!

And he held my hands... he was so sweet I'm still crying. (gifset: http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161314684447/i-was-literally-shaking-when-he-told-me-that )

Then we went to his stand 3 more times and he hugged us every single one and I was like 'I'm so so so sorry, I don't want to bother you!'

And he was like: 'Awww noo! Don't worry! It's a pleasure, come here!”

And we took a pic with Cory’s cutout too lmao

We also saw Dickie again because he was bringing him bottles of water bc it was so hot, and a friend of mine tapped on his shoulder and when he turned around we paralized and waved at him. He smiled and looked genuinely happy and he said: “Hi! How are you?! Are you having fun?!” and omg he's so cute! He has a beautiful smile!

Then we went to the photo-op again and when Robin saw me he said:

-Hi Giulia! Nice to see you again! and he hugged me one more time.

Then we went to Sean (he had his black glasses... we HAD to take a pic with him lmao he's hot, I've to say that :P) 

and while we were taking our pics with him, Drew yelled:

-Seannyyyyyyy??? I'm on someone's wallpaper! Are you on someone's wallpaper?

And Sean pretended to be sad: -No :((

And Drew with an high-pitched voice: Well, I'm on someone's wallpaper!

It was soooo funny! I love them so much!

Before leaving I asked Drew if I could hug him again and he almost lift me off the ground and he said to me and my friends: “Good luck with the girl band!!” (the one that he called 'The Cory Smith' the day before lol)

Then we waved at David and Jessica more than once and they're so cute too! David is so small and Jessica is breathtaking!

It was such a lovely experience and everyone was so nice to me. The cast of Gotham is a treasure and I had the best time with them and my amazing friends!

P.S

When I came home I saw this adorable video posted by Robin ( http://colfernygma.tumblr.com/post/161313103552/justgotham-robin-thanking-fans-at-heroes ) and I cried bc you can see my drawing, my t-shirt, my gift for Cory and Julia's drawing ;-;)

Oh, and Cory liked these two pics: 1) https://www.instagram.com/p/BUpMB-1jsN7/?taken-by=giulsholfer 2) https://www.instagram.com/p/BUpKjSlDKmL/?taken-by=giulsholfer 

I’m still laughing! 

[dramallamadingdang]

Overdue Replies

Holy crap, this is long, OMG. I’m so sorry.

For @pensblr, @bunsblr, @shaonharryandpannisim, @newlibertysims, @fuzzyspork, @littleblondesim, @kayleigh-83, @penig, @damask-wallpaper, @acquiresimoleons, @sim-pudding-faces, @digitalangels, @celebkiriedhel, @unoriginalkirsten, @alicephant, annnnnnnnnnd @landgraab.

pensblr replied to your photoset “More paneling because I wanted some with narrower individual boards. I...”

Thank you! Love the high-res textures. Lately, I have been on a swap-out as many low-res textures as possible kick.

Ohhhhhh, then you are either going to love me or want to murder me in my sleep. Possibly both. :)

But yeah, I decided I wanted all the things high-res for this new Strangetown project. Mostly because I’m going to be photo-editing all the pictures and I want things as nice-looking as possible to start with and not have to worry about pixellation in the background if I’m taking close-ups and stuff. So, that means I have to make a lot of crap since I’m pretty much building a downloads folder from the ground up for it. Build mode first, since I’ll be building lots for the place soon... 

bunsblr replied to your photoset “More paneling because I wanted some with narrower individual boards. I...”

One can never have enough paneling!

That’s my feeling! It’s versatile! You can use it inside as paneling or outside as vertical siding. Both were big mid-century, which is pretty much what I’ll be building so...yeah. One sets of walls, multiple purposes.

shaonharryandpannisim replied to your photoset “More paneling because I wanted some with narrower individual boards. I...”

I had resisted the pull of those sofas. But I can NOT, for the love of Maxis, resist THESE.

Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.

newlibertysims replied to your photo “Napoleon, not being an asshole. For once. He actually got along quite...”

That street needs a Cat Licking sign.

Orrrrr the cat needs to stay out of the road. Then again, cats like roads. Nice and waaaaaaaaarm.... :)

fuzzyspork replied to your photo “Napoleon, not being an asshole. For once. He actually got along quite...”

It's a good thing random cars don't drive past the lots in TS2. XD

They do when you have that fire hydrant that makes car pool vehicles drive by occasionally! I’m not using that in this neighborhood, though. Not yet, anyway. I don’t reckon it has much vehicle traffic, what with there being only three households and all. :)

littleblondesim replied to your photoset “Meanwhile, over at the pool hall, schmoozing with Review Guy has its...”

http://www.wordlab.com/name-generators/ :)

See, I knew someone would point me at one! :) *is lazyass* Thank you!

kayleigh-83 replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

In which my eyes roll so hard they fall out of my head and across the floor...... lmao honestly anon, get a life.

They have a life! IT IS FULL OF CHEAP WHISKEY! ;)

kayleigh-83 replied to your photo “I can’t be the only one who thinks the poses that Sim-kids strike...”

So agree! I kind of wish Sims retained some of it as they age, like maybe more active Sims stayed more "active" sleepers? Would have been extra cute!

It would have been! I mean, some people never grow out of being restless, flailing, bed-hogging sleepers. *side-eyes husband*

kayleigh-83 replied to your photo “Heh. Took a break from hurling invective at the game’s lighting to...”

That's such a creative idea to make Sim paintings out of it! I love hanging art or photography in my Sims homes that are of their own world, it adds a kind of realism I appreciate! Just like we would hang photos or paintings of our own world.

I have always kinda wanted to do the “take in-game pics and turn them into family pictures” thing...but I’ve never actually done it. One, because I just don’t have the patience to do posing. Two, because even if I had the patience I’m utterly bewildered by poseboxes. Like, how on Earth do you keep track of which box has what poses? Especially because most of them “helpfully” give the poses names like “Pose 1.” I’m just all WTF when it comes to them. 

But I can do scenery pics as paintings/photos, yeah! 

fuzzyspork replied to your photo “Heh. Took a break from hurling invective at the game’s lighting to...”

NICE! Also, if you ever want to hate something that used to be fun for you, just do it as your job for a while. XD

Exactly! That’s why I really didn’t want to be a musician when I grew up! I wanted to be an architect! Unfortunately, math and I have that whole hate/hate relationship going on, so no architecture degree for me! And, as it turns out, music is the only bankable talent I have, given that I have no interest in having a “real job” with bosses and stuff because I’d just get my ass fired if I tried to have one. So, here we are! Thankfully, it didn’t kill my lurve. Probably because it’s such a wide-ranging field, so if you hammer on one aspect of it as your job, there are all sorts of other things you can do for fun.

penig replied to your photoset “OK, game-graphics nerds! I haz question! (Yes, @celebkiriedhel, I’m...”

I had to look intensely to see what you were talking about. I do notice that in my game and I think of it as realism. Because you can see the lines between panels and breadths of wallpaper IRL.

Well, yeah, I can see that with wallpaper. It does have seams IRL, at least. But for flat painted walls, where the “gradient thing” is the most noticeable because there’s otherwise no pattern to distract your eye? Yeah, that doesn’t work as well. :) *still busily hurling invective at Maxis and their stupid lighting calculations and going why, why, WHYYYYYYYYY?!*

damask-wallpaper replied to your photoset “Technicolor was a series of processes used in filmmaking mostly...”

What a fun idea! Who doesn't love the technicolor look?

I love, love, love old movies, with a special fondness for B-movies from the 50s/60s done on the cheap with bad Technicolor when Technicolor was no longer cool. So, yeah, I love the look, myself, whether it’s done well or badly. I think it’ll be fun to photoedit pics for retro-Strangetown.

I kinda wonder if it might be possible to get ReShade to make the game itself look like it’s in Technicolor, but I’ve never managed to get ReShade to work with my TS2 install, so I can’t experiment with that. :(

acquiresimoleons replied to your photoset “Since his mama had decided to visit, Steven made a special dinner....”

Yaaay werewolf! (I'm pretty sure that's what's happening anyway lmao)

Yup, he’s a werewolf! :) I’ve always liked the transformation sequence in TS2. It’s so drama-ful. :)

sim-pudding-faces replied to your photo “And then it was time for Baby Aaron to grow up… Ermagerd, he’s cute!...”

Aww.. lil guy is trying to be stud at an early age, eh?

It’s all about the laydeez! Or maybe about the bois! Or maybe both! Dunno what he’ll like yet. But yes, a stud from infancy, he is. ;)

digitalangels replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

I'd love to see how anon's game looks to see what is "stepping it up" in their books but I bet they're too much coward to give their name for us to see. And anyway, isn't half of the point in Sims games customizing it to look how *you* want *your* game to look like or have I been doing it wrong all these years?

Yeah, it’s kind of funny how such people who leave such messages don’t give you any points of reference. “Stepping it up” is meaningless without such things. I mean, how else are we to know if we’re “stepping it up” properly? 

No, really, I think some people are just really offended by non-Maxis-match and/or using older CC and/or shinier hair/skin textures these days. But, I’m uninterested in Maxis-match (for my own game; I like looking at other Maxis-matchers’ pics, though!), and I like a bit of shine because we do not live in a matte/cartoony world, so such folks and me will just never see eye-to-eye when it comes to game aesthetics. And that’s OK by me, but apparently not by them. Or something. I’m still going with “bottle of whiskey + nothing better to do on a Friday night so let’s *hurr hurr* try to make people angry” theory. To each their own!

newlibertysims replied to your photo “GilsCarburg, in moody Technicolor. ;) OK gotta stop fiddling with this...”

Reminds me of lazy, hazy, crazy days of...fall. XD

Fall! Fall is good! I can’t wait to get this whole summer business over with! I need to live in a place where it’s fall year-round. Which pretty much means another planet, but hey! I’m game for that!

newlibertysims replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

Nothing wrong with being 2008 hot. Just ask Jenna Marbles!

*had to look up Jenna Marbles because I’m totally un-hip to the whole “youtube personality” thing* But yeah! Totally! Other than finding my soulmate in 2013, I think this decade totally bites, personally. Actually, now that I think about it, so far this century ain’t so great, IMO. Tonight, we’re gonna party like it’s 1999. ;)

penig replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

I think, from the voice of certain anons you've responded to lately that you've picked up my stalker. She doesn't like taking responsibility for what she says by putting a face on. And she is persistent as heck.

O RLY?! Oh, the fun we will have, then! Bring it on, anon, bring it on!

fuzzyspork replied to your link “Tips For Manipulating The Sourness Of Your Sourdough”

Ah! I needed this too! I always hated the sourdough we used to make because it was way too tangy (hubby loved it though). He works for a German company and one of the managers offered him some of her 100+ year old starter. I'll have to give it a shot.

Oh, yeah, totally. I’d definitely take her up on her offer. Even if it’s not to your taste to start, you can futz with it. You could even split it and develop a tangier starter and a not-so-tangy one, to suit both your tastes. ‘Course, then you’ve got double the upkeep, but it might be worth it...

fuzzyspork replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

TS2 is 13 years old. I have no idea what "step it up to 2017" even means.

Right? I mean, TS2 is almost from the last century and all. Why must we force it into crappy 2017? I think it would make it cry. ;) 

...Unless we’re talking 2017BCE. That would be cool...

celebkiriedhel replied to your photo “Steven does the annoyed potty-training faces, too. Yes, it’s an...”

But what a manly hairy chest!!

Yeah, the GilsCarbo men are hairballs. ;) Well, the three of them so far, anyway. ;)

celebkiriedhel replied to your post “acquiresimoleons replied to your post: ...”

I used to keep mine on top of the fridge - the top of the fridge was warm from the motor. :)

That’s a good spot, too! The fridges in our places are built-ins, though, so you can’t put stuff on top of them. Which actually sort of sucks, but on the other hand the aesthetics of built-ins please me, so....Rock, hard place. ;)

celebkiriedhel replied to your link “Tips For Manipulating The Sourness Of Your Sourdough”

Thanks for this! I used to make my own bread when I was younger, and I miss having a sourdough starter living in my house.

It is rather fun when the oldest thing in your house is a living being. :)

celebkiriedhel replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

LOL. Lets play 'How old the anon is'! My guess is early teens, with an entitlement phase of a toddler.

Yeah, if the “whiskey + lack of social life” theory isn’t correct, then I’m going with Age ~15. (No offense to sane 15-year-olds out there, but some of y’all...)  Of course, being 15 and the “whiskey + lack of social life” theory aren’t necessarily mutually-exclusive, so...

unoriginalkirsten replied to your photo “And then it was time for Baby Aaron to grow up… Ermagerd, he’s cute!...”

That is spectacular baby balancing right there!

Like those folks who can balance spinning basketballs on their fingertips! Of course, balancing a spinning baby is far more impressive...

alicephant replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

Lol how dare you have a game that you find aesthetically pleasing �� anon is a poo head.

Is it just me, or is “poo head” just a way better insult than “shithead?” I mean, the former, when done right, is just so much more condescending. (And not in the Regency-era sense of the word, either. ;) ) But yeah, I agree. :)

landgraab replied to your post “Your game is so ugly. Maybe it's about time to step it up to 2017.”

"I don't like *your* game, so change it!!!"

Pretty much, yeah. Ya gotta wonder how anyone would think that such a demand would actually work, that anyone would just change everything about what they do in the game because some people don’t like their aesthetic. I mean, it’s not like those of us who don’t conform to “popular” trends are somehow unaware that we’re not conforming to popular treads. Especially when our general pattern in life is being deliberate in our refusal to conform to popular trends about anything, not just a silly game. ;)

[cantstopthesignal2005]

kill yr gods

                                                 kill yr gods

              Anton Stewart sat transfixed by the panels of the graphic novel he recently checked out from the school library. The odd, melancholic spell cast by the kitchen-sink realism of the story was broken as his Journalism teacher, Ms. Combs, snapped her fingers.  “Anton. Anton! Excuse me! Hello! Thank you!”   “Yes, ma’am?”   “How are you coming along with your story? Kali needs it by Friday for the paper.” Anton looked over to Kali Wheatley, who sat hunched over with a large iced coffee, feverishly editing papers and adding comments.   “Uh, I’ll have a rough draft tomorrow, Ms. Combs,” he replied.    “Tomorrow? What happened to tonight?”   “I’m going to the concert tonight.”   “A concert? What?”   “The Canceled Alcohol show,” he brusquely informed her, his voice carrying an unmitigated bite to it. “It’s the concert I’m covering for the story. And since I haven’t gone to where the story is yet, I don’t have the story.”  Anton caught a few side-eyed glances and expressions of incredulity.    “Smart ass,” she blithely retorted. “See where that gets you in life. See where it gets you in school, or even in this class.”    Anton shook off his teacher’s cautionary attack with a brief, involuntary shudder. He returned to his poor posture and resumed the story. Comics were an integral part of Anton’s life. As a young child, he found solace in the altruism of the muscle-bound men and women who, burdened with great powers, sought to look after the meek and timid. He aspired to similar feats of greatness, albeit without any supernatural ability. Throughout middle school, Anton would obsessively write the phrase “I Will Grow Wings,” filling the lines of his composition notebooks. This was his mantra to remind himself of his personal endeavor to grow stronger and feel capable, soaring above his feelings of impotence. After discovering the cruelty of unprovoked violence and the ecstasy of masturbation, Anton rabidly tore apart the pages of his superhero comics, marking an estrangement from what he began to feel was the mythos of morons and losers.    Reality bloomed as Anton reached tenth grade, where he was fearful of the impending future and consistently horrified by the mistakes of the past. Without a car or a job, he didn’t have money of his own and would constantly depend on his mother for rides or pocket change, a chip on his shoulder regarding his own lack of agency had spread like a fever. The stories to which Anton gravitated were confrontational and brutal, concerning entropy, alienation, and depravity.  Unable to reconcile his anxieties and a lust for debauchery, Anton would vicariously approximate the insanity and genius of drugs by reading journals about the rough side of an acid trip at the devil’s hour.     The bell rang and Anton somberly ambled down the steps of building three to the courtyard. It was his lunch period and he planned to meet his friend, Peter. Peter was a friend whose binding tie was a similar love of literature and art. They would occasionally skip school and go to their local dollar theater and movie hop. Anton was unnerved as he saw Peter surrounded by people peripheral to their social circle, holding court at a brick wall, waxing poetic about the perils of too much vulnerability and compassion. He was wearing a black shirt with an image of Joe Strummer with bloodied knuckles and a towel carelessly draped around his shoulders. Peter looked over the circle of friends and nodded Anton over.  Characteristically overzealous, he extended his hand to shake Anton’s. “What’s popping, bruh?”    “I’m good. How goes it?”    “Yo, these are . . .  this is Larry. This is Dom. This is . . . oh wait, you know Chaz, right?”    “We’ve met,” Chaz curtly confirmed, gritting his teeth. Anton bristled at what he felt was an unmerited disdain.   “Uh, yeah. Uh, we’ve met,” Anton said, through staccato bursts of nervous laughter.   “What’s good, bro?” Peter asked, flashing his toothy smile, which appeared closer to demented than charming, as he hoped.   “Um. Just . . . just saying hey?”   “Well, you said Hey, kid,” Chaz said, rolling his eyes.   “I’m talking to Peter. If I wanted to talk to you, I would look at you. Chaz. Your fucking parents named you Chaz! What kinda shit is that?”   “You’re a fucking asshole, Anton.”   “Aight, aight, chill, chill.” Peter locked eyes with Anton and with a nod, dismissed him. Anton walked off, shaking with the rage of rejection. He fought the urge to, as he had when he was younger, scream, curse, and beat his fists against the ground into bloody pulps.  He wondered if remaining with his circle of friends was worth it.  He tolerated the occasional hectoring and outburst if only to stave off loneliness; his friends were a means to an end, and whether they knew that was unimportant. Anton was made to feel little, but always assured himself that they were even lesser than him since he never needed them.      The rest of the school day was an interminable slog, the only saving grace being that he would attend his first show later that night. As he approached the exit doors to the bus loop, Anton felt a firm tap on his shoulder. Violently whipping his head back, he saw his friend Alex, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Anton. Buddy. What’s up?”   “What’s up, what’s up?”   “What’s up. We were supposed to go to the diner, right? This is every Tuesday, we had plans, no?”   “Fuck, you’re right, I was just . . . it didn’t feel like a Tuesday.”   “Yeah, alright. So, we’re good to go?”   “Sure are.” The two walked over to the school parking lot, which Alex was grateful to have a spot in. He was the subject of great envy in their orbit for being the first to get a car, a job, and a girlfriend; there had been innuendos of him losing his virginity before his teen years, though no one asked to verify.  Alex’s relatively advanced social acumen inspired overzealous praise and myth making from his friends.     Alex drove at reckless speeds to Lynn’s Diner, a 1950s Americana themed coffee shop. There were black and white images from the days of yore for much of the wallpaper, framed photos of notable figures like Frank Sinatra and Benny Goodman occupying what little wall wasn’t taken by signs that said  “M A L T S,” “S H A K E S,” or “F R I E S.” Alex fiddled with the cylindrical straw container, delighting briefly in watching them umbrella.  The two walked over to a booth in the far corner, the seats cherry red, the table was eggshell white with sporadic bursts of dots making no discernible pattern.  Alex and Anton made it a habit to attend Lynn’s Diner every Tuesday at 3 PM, directly after school.  Tuesdays was when the waitress, Greta, would be working, and they were as much a part of her ritual as she was a part of theirs, having become one of her regular guests, to the point where staff would tease her about it. (“Hey Greta! Your boyfriends are here!”)    Alex and Anton waved off offers of menus, fully aware of what they wanted. Greta walked up to them, her hair a lot shorter than it used to be, dyed a fluorescent orange.  “Hey, loves,” she said, putting her hand on her hip. “Two doubles, no onions, extra cheese, pickle spear on the side, two cherry colas?”    “You practiced that,” Alex smirked.    “You know I did,” she smiled coyly.  “I ever tell you I was in theater?”    “No, but I saw you as Puck when you did Midsummer Night’s Dream with my sister, Shirley.”      “Your hair’s a lot shorter,” Anton abruptly remarked. Alex and Greta cocked their heads back, shocked by the jarring, unprompted comment.    “Uh . . .  yeah,” she said, visibly perturbed.  “Yeah, it is. I uh, I cut it . . .” She self-consciously primped the ends of her hair and shook her head.  “Uh, I’ll . . . I’ll be right back with your orders, love.” Alex shook his head disapprovingly, rolling his eyes.  Leaning in, he whispered, “Probably shouldn’t just like . . . shout something out while two people are talking. You know what I mean?”    “Yeah, but you said . . . you said it’s normal if someone like . . . it’s okay if someone inserts themselves into a conversation.”    “Yeah, but you have to know when to do it.”    “How would I know that?”    “Trial and error. This? Not the right time. Now you know for the future.”  Anton found himself resentful of the way people like Alex could float through life, aware of the right thing to say, when to say it.  He would often conflate their confidence and sociability with arrogance.  “I think I could get her number.”      “Isn’t she in college?”    “And you’ve never wanted to date a college girl?” Alex paused. “Or guy?”    “I mean, yeah. But guy or girl . . . I don’t think it would be, you know, appropriate.” Greta brought out their order on a plastic blue tray, forcing a grin. She dropped the order off and left without her usual parting banter.  Alex observed as Anton anxiously peered over to his watch.  “That’s maybe the third time I’ve seen you check the time since we got here,” Alex said, his mouth full of fries. “What’s going on?”    “Sorry. I have a show to go to tonight,” he explained.     “Who are you seeing?”     “Canceled Alcohol. I bought the tickets from Crates.”    “Crates . . .  Crates . . .  Crates, the record shop, Crates?”    “Yeah. Canceled Alcohol doesn’t really have a website or internet presence. I couldn’t cop them except locally.”    “I’ve heard of them. I know their shows are supposed to be like fucking super intense. I heard someone got knocked into a fucking coma there once.”    “Really?”    “This is what I hear,” he shrugged. Anton began to panic, his mouth drying up, his heart palpitating. He forgot to bring anyone for support to the show, and if he met harm as he was sure he would, there would be no help.    “Do you want to go?” he asked earnestly.  “I’m sorry, I should have asked you earlier. I can buy—”     “Nope,” he replied, unfurling a mischievous smile.    “Why not?”    “I think you should go this one alone. This one. I think, anyway.” The unspoken tension between the two was palpable, and so they completed their meal in silence. Anton became anxious with anticipation, expecting unspoken acts of violence to be visited upon him.  He’d realized that, upon stepping foot into the venue, he surrendered his control to the crowd and to the band; Canceled Alcohol was a band Anton was used to listening to at his own control.   He could turn their volume up, down, or truncate entire verses. The dynamic at the show would be diametrically swapped, his body now having to bend to the sway of the crowd and the ferocity of the band, which he assumed would be mighty; if his ribs were crushed, Anton was certain that the show would proceed without mercy.     Alex drove Anton home, generously playing Canceled Alcohol before ultimately deciding they “weren’t my cup of tea.”  Anton heard a vicious argument between his mother Marina and his brother Juan as he reached the front door. Knees shaking, he braced himself for the unfolding maelstrom.   “You’re a fucking cunt!” Juan yelled. Whipping his head back, he saw his little brother and dismissed him with wave. He returned to the object of his scorn and balled up his fists.  “You don’t have any idea what it’s like!”   “You still have to work, Juan!”    “Fuck you, bitch. I’m trying so fucking hard!”    “Smoking resin out of PVC pipes with your drop out buddies isn’t effort! You don’t do anything! I didn’t raise you like this!”    “You didn’t raise me at all! Abuela did! You lazy fucking bitch!”    “You’re so ugly . . .  you’re fucking . . . you’re just like him.  You’re stupid and you’re lazy. And angry. And you’re angry because you know there’s no place in this world for stupid, lazy people.” Marina shivered and shrieked as Juan tossed a cup of stagnant water at her. She stood, frozen with indignation. “I fucking HATE YOU!” Juan made a beeline for the door, shoving Anton against the wall.  Shriveling inwardly, he bit up the nerve to walk over to console his upset mother. Though Anton’s upbringing had been rife with turmoil, he failed to grasp the dialect of conflict and found himself at a loss for words. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking. “Sorry.” Marina, wearing the humiliation of disrespect by her son, looked over to Anton with a fury scorching her face, her eyes bloodshot, her teeth jutting out from her lower jaw like a diseased dog; Anton went pale, unable to find his mother beneath her anguish. He rubbed his chest softly, hoping to nurse his racing heart back to normalcy.    “I hate you!” she exclaimed. “You’re ruining my life!”  Anton was fatigued from the day behind him, unwilling to contend with the mercurial tempers flaring in his house. While times spent with his mother were not all bad, he was frightened by how swiftly she could vacillate between Victim and Tormentor, just as he towed the line from Caretaker to Whipping Post.    “Mom, I love you,” he said, disgusted at his impish attempt to placate her.      “Yeah, your kind of love I don’t need.”  She walked up their stairs, groaning.  Anton took note that it was an hour and a half until doors.  Despite having negotiated the ride several months prior, he was aware that it would take an immeasurable amount of consoling to get his mother to drive him there now. He’d considered his options briefly before grabbing his ticket and darting out the door to catch the number 48 bus going to Ardenton, a town he knew by reputation (their high school football team often beat his) only. The venue, he read on a worn and faded flyer, was The Empire, 1709 Waterhead Boulevard, Ardenton. (“Real Hole In The Wall Shit,” as crudely promised at the bottom.)  He looked for any signs assuring him that he was on the right path, to no avail. As he shuffled through the streets, scanning the buildings for addresses, he came across a couple adorned in pelts, leather, and chains, and summoned the strength to approach them. As he neared, his eyes began fluttering, much to their bewilderment.     “Excuse me,” he said, gentling his voice. “I was . . .”   “Speak up, youngin,” the older woman said.    “Yes, hi. I was um. I was seeing. I was. I was wondering if you knew where The Empire was?”    “The Empire? Is that a store?” she asked.    Her partner, a much younger woman, chuckled.  “No, babe. It’s a concert place.”    “I don’t know this shit.”    “Sweetie, you’re gonna go up a block and two over.”    “Oh, okay. Thanks . . .  thanks so much.”    “Who’s playing?”    “Uh, Canceled Alcohol?”    “Roughneck shit,” she grinned, nodding approvingly. “First show?”    “Yeah.”    “Fuck shit up, dude.” Her partner admonished her with a playful slap to the back of her hand. “Be careful!” she’d warned him, shaking her head. He politely laughed and walked off.      Anton walked the blocks and clocked the addresses, most of the buildings’ aluminum numbers tarnished or fallen off completely.  He was uncertain of the directions given to him until he noticed a procession of people walking in unison, murmuring amongst each other. Latching onto them, he made it to The Empire, a narrow building with a towering spire piercing the swiftly migrating clouds overhead. The marquee read: Princess Annie & Canceled Alcohol. 7 PM. Sold Out.    A few groggy, disgruntled men wearing shirts bearing the venue’s name set up barriers, prompting Anton to look at his watch; noticing it was a quarter to doors, he grabbed the ticket and felt his heart flutter. His stomach began to churn, his mouth drying, gluing his tongue to the roof. An older, obese man began tearing tickets and allowing people inside, nodding happily at each person. Anton was swiftly approaching the front of the line, and he excitedly handed his ticket and made a beeline for the door before the formidable man’s hand blocked him.  “Hold up,” he said, screwing his face. Anton felt innately that there had been a mistake, that he needed identification or a parental guardian, neither of which he had. “I gotta search you, first.” After a brief pat down, he was ushered inside. The walls were lousy with graffiti, faded stickers, and flyers from past shows. Stale cigarette smoke stuck to the walls as a reminder of past shows, the granite floor was sticky with the residue of spilled lagers. The air was thick and muggy, he struggled to catch a breath, which was exacerbated by the space becoming occupied to the point of congestion. Anton centered himself by navigating a way to the back, where there were life-size banners of Canceled Alcohol’s most recent album, Gag And Bind—a ghastly image of a dominatrix caving a hole into an old man’s head, bloody gray matter spilling onto the white backdrop, his eyes replaced with shimmering gold coins, his tongue hanging slack from his gaping mouth, spittle pouring out. As he looked at the sensational image, he felt immense feelings of guilt and desire, which he couldn’t reconcile. To his left, he saw two slovenly dressed young lovers under the spell of some dangerous pill they couldn’t pronounce, idly peeling paint from the wall, near catatonic.      A tap at his bicep sent him shuddering, spinning around rapidly which elicited a laugh from the two young women who’d tapped him. Dressed in mainly all black, with the exception of some red stripes on their track pants and the white pentagrams on their shirts, one had aqua blue hair which reached just above her hair, the other had bleach blonde hair, the left side of her head shaved entirely. They both donned piercings across their face, the woman with the aqua blue wearing a nose piercing with a chain that reached to her ear. “Hi! Can you take our photos?” He obliged and took a few pictures of them: them holding their hands above their heads, them hugging, them kissing each other, them confrontationally staring into the camera with stoic fierceness. Handing it back, he smiled. “Thanks so much!”      “Was that like, a photo set?”     “We just wanted some photos of like, gay love. We’re a gay couple . . .”   “Right.”    “And we just felt like this was our non-violent protest. This was us, showing we can be gay and feminine and super sweet and hardcore and we can also enjoy the music.  It’s not binary and we felt like it would be cool to show it.”    “It’s for a project she’s making,” her partner explained. “She’s trying to normalize gay love by documenting it in unconventional places. This is her part where she puts us in the middle of it.”    “I always show up in my art,” she said, defensive.  “It’s my art and, intentional or not, I’m gonna be in it in some way or another, I can’t emancipate my expressions from myself, so I might as well implement myself.”    “That’s fucking rad.”    “Are you here for Princess Annie?”    “Uh, no. Just . . .  just Canceled Alcohol.”    “They’re okay, we’re here for Annie, cause you know, they’re a really great part of the gay community in Seattle, so it’s kinda rad that they’re here.”    The lights dimmed and the background music stopped. Everyone did an About Face and directed their gaze to the stage, which was massively unimpressive, being composed primarily of driftwood, electrical tape, and worker’s spit. Feet began to stamp on the ground, and aimless cheering and applause erupted. Princess Annie took the stage and the lead singer demurely waved to everyone as her bandmates readied themselves and took their positions. “Hi,” Annie Sutton, the lead singer, greeted everyone. “We are Princess Annie. And uh, we’re very happy to be here, thanks very much for having us. Um. Do you guys mind if we fuck shit up?” Her facetious request was met with thunderous approval, a mischievous grin unfurling on her face. The bass and drums began rolling out, cymbals being hit with great ferocity and Annie began to roar the lyrics to their song, The Stranger. The words were fully realized as she threw her body into the anguish of the song, her torso contorting, her arms wrathfully throttling the microphone. The orchestral hook allowed for some time to beat the device into her head, a bloody gash opening as she shouted:  

                        If I catch you!                         If I ever fucking catch you!                         Death will be too good!                         But I’ll never be good!                         No, I’ll never be good!                         I’ll never be good again!                         I’ll never be fine again!                             Never go to bed again!                         Never again, not never again,                         Never again, not never again                         Not never-FUUUUUUUUCK     Annie motioned for the crowd to make way for her to descend downwards and she gracefully stepped down. Anton was taken aback at how readily the crowd parted as though it were the red sea. Annie sewed sutures on the wounds she opened every night she sang the song which she knew would keep her honest. They washed her bloody face with love and adulation, crying with empathy, holding her to keep the panic away.  She concluded the song by saying, off mic, “Thank You. Thank You So Much. I Love You So Much.”   Making her way back to the stage, she sat hunched over at the edge, breathing heavily into the microphone. “Hey, our set is gonna be like me, it’s a little short. We only have about five songs left. Then you guys get to see Canceled Alcohol!” She held for applause, which filled the room.  “You guys are gonna love ‘em. We’re so so so so so honored that they brought us out on tour with them, they’re so fucking cool. Really. They’re real roughnecks on stage but total sweethearts in person. They’ve even invited us to join their knitting circle.” Jessica, the drummer, etched a hammy smile on her face and played a rim shot. “This is our 49th state. First time in Florida!”    “I’m sorry!” one person yelled out, which received some chuckles from the audience and an admonishing finger wag from Annie.    “Hey now! We like it here. We like what we’ve seen. Well, we’ve only seen the inside of this venue. But, hey. It’s a nice venue. This uh . . .  this next song is called Stupid Bitch. It’s about white guys. And please, all white guys. Don’t get upset when we play this, it’s never a good look.”      Anton felt at home with the warmth of her generous stage banter. Everyone was experiencing exactly what he was, there was a truth to this moment in time and it was a sweaty, blood drenched woman believing in herself and engaging with four hundred disparate people. He knew he would never be alone if he remained in the comfort of human body odor and weed smoke. They soon left the stage which was to be empty for another forty minutes.  Then, the lights dimmed once again and the crowd showed their love by bleeding their throats dry. The band swaggered on stage, and simultaneously Anton was delighted to be in proximity to such greatness and crestfallen to discover that they were a little short and appeared to be unassuming men, ready to do their job. However, once the front man, Sean, looked out to everyone, his eyes were searing and demented, striking fear. He took the pulpit and delivered his sermon:

                                                Kill God if you feel like it,                         Kill me if you feel like it,                         Just make sure you know why,                         I’ll never be anything other than that which I am,                         I’ll only be a part of the plan,                         My body is a prison,                         Break me out of this prison,                         Take me out of this prison,     The fury of the crowd reached a fever pitched, everyone being pushed to the front and shoving elbows into each other. Everyone edged everyone else out and a swirling vortex of pain erupted, young men in cargo shorts performing spinning kicks, their chests slamming into one another. Anton was reminded what it was like to feel vitality coursing through his veins as he was pushed into a snake pit of antagonism. He recalled placating his mother, contending with supercilious teachers, recoiling from his brother’s wrath, and how tired of it all he was. Something atavistic responded to the busted, bloody lip he suffered. He found his voice in pushing back and visiting violence onto others and receiving it, becoming baptized by pain. He screamed until his lungs felt on the verge of collapse. He knocked his head into someone else’s and gripped the back of their neck, being met in kind with an identical grip.    “I love you!” he yelled, locking horns, knocking into him, shoulder first.    “I love you too!”     The ritual eventually petered out and the show concluded as plainly as it began, the band members departing with a cold casualness. Anton felt beautiful as he walked home drowning in a pool of collected sweat, the wind whipping against him as he shivered waiting on the bus.     Creeping into his room, Anton confronted the new, primal version of himself and noticed a congealed patch of blood on his face. Removing his shirt, he was thrilled to observe the black and blue tattoos he received. The bumps, bruises, and scars served as a reminder of the fight he had to keep in his heart to refrain from timorously occupying the fringes of life. Galvanized to report on the part of the world he just saw, he swiftly grabbed the composition notebook and a pen from the computer desk, his foot anxiously tapping a hole in the ground as his hands, tremulous from adrenaline, wrote:

                          Tonight, I found God in the grooves of a combat boot.