#you are all so fucking enamoured by this white blond bitch

[murderbot]

i am going to be so fucking real it annoys me so bad when people say gabriel ultrakill is considered an object or a tool "just like" the robots / v1. because he is absolutely fucking not.

he's not only a non-human angel, he's an archangel & a supreme angel - angels that were never originally human are already considered higher in heaven's esteem than those lowly former-mortals who get consigned to do grunt work, and gabriel is explicitly stated to be one of the MOST respected archangels. he's specifically also really popular and well-loved among angels as a whole.

these are all things that elevate him way above a station that's already sitting him pretty high - he's not just better than a human, he's better than other non-mortals. he's like just about at the top of heaven's hierarchy.

meanwhile machines are considered even worse than humans, god's experiment that the angels disdain. as gabriel says to v1, it is "not even mortal". machines don't even get a place in the afterlife, as far as we know!

they're literally on completely opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of how they're regarded. gabriel is considered a person and a very high-ranking kind of person - everything he's done at the will of the council, he made the choice to do. he wasn't made to serve the damn council! he decided to commit all those war crimes himself of his own will! he was the damn commander for quelling the insurrections! he was an enforcer of this damn fucked system, not a victim of it

v1, on the other hand, is "less than nothing".

[artificialqueens]

Different People (Different Arguments), 2/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: a big thank u and loads of love to everyone who’s reading so far!!

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

Last chapter: Brooke helped Bianca set up Darienne’s resignation and the new Secretary of State Jacqueline Cox arrived.

In this chapter: Brooke and the rest of the advisors accompany Jackie to a series of press interviews in a bid to make her a household name. But it’s not all smooth sailing when they’re blindsided by a rogue interview and a sensationalist, right-wing newspaper article.

Trigger warning: d slur

***

Brooke thought that old saying was pretty much spot on- a week was a long time in politics. More fittingly, a week seemed like a year in politics when nobody was talking about you at all, which was exactly the case for Jackie Cox. The expenses scandal had taken up most of the headlines for the past seven days as it had emerged that Darienne apparently hadn’t been the only one that had been doctoring them. There had been a lot of reshuffling within the party as a result of the various resignations that had ensued and Bianca had been close to a massive coronary for the whole week trying to make order out of chaos.

The worst thing about the whole situation was having to watch Nicky Doll on the BBC lunchtime news, sat in front of Chi-Chi Devayne and shaking her head solemnly as she gave their whole party a damning verdict, saying how out of touch with the electorate they were and how much they lacked empathy for the British public. It still made Brooke’s blood boil; the fact that Nicky could accuse them of being out of touch when she grew up on acres of land, was privately educated her whole life and had basically been awarded the job in the Shadow Cabinet by her father and his Etonian schoolboy clique. The irony was almost painful.

Still, a week had been and gone and Jackie hadn’t quite made the splash that Bianca had been hoping for. She’d been given about the equivalent of a column inch across the tabloids and a couple of mentions on TV as part of the reshuffle, but apart from that they might as well have appointed an stuffed aubergine as Darienne’s replacement and the media wouldn’t have given two fucks. Jackie, for her part, seemed suitably disappointed. It was definitely interesting having her in the department, Brooke thought. She was an improvement on Darienne; efficient, motivating, determined. Productivity in the department seemed to have risen by quite an amount and for the first time in months Brooke could actually see Adore’s desk, the clutter and unfinished work almost gone. Jan had certainly started to throw herself into her work a lot more in the past week, which was intriguing for someone who had wanted to quit the job before Jackie arrived. Vanessa, if anything, was just on edge. She was constantly paranoid that Darienne was going to bomb threat Dosac as a result of their betrayal. Much as it made Brooke laugh, she hated seeing Vanessa genuinely worried and had to remind her almost daily that if Darienne could barely be bothered walking across the office to the water cooler then she probably wouldn’t go to the effort of creating an elaborate Guy Fawkes-esque attack on the department. Brooke’s stomach had flipped when Vanessa was finally reassured and flashed her a little shy smile, but that was probably just the result of something she’d eaten.

Definitely not anything to do with Vanessa.

Although not everything about Jackie’s arrival was positive. Jackie was incredibly strict on the way she wanted things done around the department and was never shy of calling meetings with her three advisors and Nina to clarify protocol or to smack them all over their heads with her latest thought process. For Brooke it reminded her of how annoying she found Jackie, but the other girls in the department seemed incredibly enamoured with her. Scarlet liked her makeup, Adore loved her humour. Vanessa was impressed with how organised and on top of things she was, Yvie admired her knowledge of a variety of different languages. Jaida liked her fashion sense, Nina appreciated how friendly she was to everyone that worked there. Jan seemed to hang off every word she said, nodding enthusiastically at any suggestion Jackie came up with, giggling like a fucking child at any joke she made. It was weird, Brooke thought. Admittedly Jan greeted most things in life with an excitable enthusiasm to match her bullet-train pace of speaking and her energetic movements, and whenever she was around Jackie she was the same but with a hint of something different to it all. She was always so alert, the first to speak up in meetings and give a pro to any con of an idea of Jackie’s. Brooke supposed that must have been the effect Jackie had on people. Well, people who weren’t her.

When Jackie bounced into the department on Monday morning behind Vanessa, she was wearing a black pair of suit trousers, a cream shirt and a matching black suit jacket, and carrying two full trays of Starbucks coffee.

“Good morning, ladies!” she sang, her bright smile dissonant with the grey drizzle outside and the fact that it wasn’t even 9am. “Thought we could all use some coffee this morning, a bit of caffeine to cure those Monday blues! Jaida, I’ve got a skinny latte for you!”

Impressed, Jaida jumped up out of her chair and took the coffee from Jackie with a grateful smile and a polite thank you.

“Yvie, I knew you liked your cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, and Scarlet without,” Jackie continued, handing out coffee cups like Santa in a shopping mall’s sub-par grotto. “Adore, I got you a hot chocolate, Nina, I couldn’t remember whether or not you liked green tea or camomile so I got you raspberry and apple, is that okay?”

As Nina’s face lit up and reassured her that raspberry and apple was fine, Brooke found herself rolling her eyes. If Jackie wanted to get them all onside with drinks which essentially served as props for the Instagram photos of little white teenagers then she could be Brooke’s guest, but she wasn’t about to start buddying up to her anytime soon. She watched as she handed Vanessa a caramel latte, something inside her burning fiercely as she saw Vanessa flash her angelic smile Jackie’s way. The Minister then moved on to Jan’s desk, her cheerful demeanour suddenly becoming a little repressed, as if she was holding back out of embarrassment or fear or something else that wouldn’t make any sense at all. Brooke and Vanessa seemed to be the only ones watching as Jan looked up at Jackie from under her lashes.

“Hi,” Jackie began, smiling almost tentatively at the other girl. Jan tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears and returned the smile.

“Morning, Jackie,” she replied brightly, her voice seeming a little nervous too.

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate,” Jackie held out the cup nervously as Jan’s face lit up. “I remembered you saying the other day that you liked mint and chocolate together so…I thought you might like it.”

Brooke screwed her face up. That had been a conversation that had taken place last Friday, where Brooke had insisted the entire concept of pairing chocolate with what was essentially just a leaf was insane, and Jan passionately defended the gross combination. It was a silly debate, the kind that could probably be overheard in an infant school playground, and the week had worn them down so their level of intellectualism hadn’t exactly been high. They’d been in the car on the way to Prime Minister’s Questions and from what Brooke could remember Jackie hadn’t even taken part in the conversation. So how could she remember that?

“I did say that,” Jan beamed excitedly, looking up at Jackie with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much! That’s really sweet.”

Jackie gave an awkward little salute which made Jan giggle, and then moved swiftly on to Brooke’s desk.

“You always liked black coffee at Uni, so…I’m hoping that hasn’t changed,” she shrugged, smiling hesitantly as she rested the cup on Brooke’s desk. Brooke regarded it for a second then turned to face Jackie.

“You shouldn’t buy coffee from tax-dodging companies. It reflects badly on the party,” she said bluntly, feeling a sense of schadenfreude as Jackie’s smile faltered somewhat. That’ll teach her to make Vanessa so goddamned happy.

Wait, where the fuck had that come from?

Feeling a little guilty and coming to the conclusion that she could really use some coffee, Brooke shot Jackie the tiniest smile before adding, “Thanks, though. I guess.”

Satisfied, Jackie turned and walked quickly into her office with her own coffee. Brooke exhaled deeply as she relaxed a little in her chair. She was being a bitch, she knew that, but in her eyes Jackie still had to prove herself to her. Buying them all coffee and staying out of the public eye was hardly going to cut it.

Brooke hadn’t even noticed Vanessa wheeling her way towards her on her swivel chair until she was right at her side.

“Morning, Ms Crocodile,” she smirked playfully, nudging Brooke with her shoulder. Brooke narrowed her eyes at her in response.

“Ms Crocodile?” she sighed, too tired to even try to play along.

“‘Cause you’re so snappy,” Vanessa giggled at her own joke, her caffeine-induced cheerfulness completely unwavering. Brooke tilted her head and fixed her friend with an unimpressed glare. Nonplussed, Vanessa bopped her on the nose with her finger. “Is someone a lil’ jealous of our new Minister friend?”

“Jealous, please,” Brooke scoffed. “In all the time you’ve known me have I ever been jealous of anyone?”

“Yes,” Vanessa said simply. Brooke rolled her eyes.

“I have not!”

“Have too, bitch.”

Brooke sighed, desperate to move the conversation out of the back-and-forth bickering that it had turned into. “Shut up. How was your weekend, anyway?”

“Oh, not bad. Me, Scarlet an’ Yvie went for lunch with Silk an’ Kiki on Saturday at that new Italian that opened up in Soho. Service was shit but the food was incredible so we’re for sure goin’ back. You should’ve come with us!”

Brooke grimaced. “You know how I feel about anyone who works for Nicky Doll, V.”

“Aw, c’mon, Brooke Lynn. Silk an’ Akeria work for the civil service, not Nicky,” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I mean, look at those girls and tell me honestly if there’s anyone sat at those desks that’s party loyal.”

Brooke cast her eyes over to the comms team. Scarlet and Yvie had fashioned the assorted litter on their desks into a mini game of table football, Nina was reading some form of gossip magazine. At first glance it looked as if Adore was actually doing work until Brooke realised the phone she was talking into was definitely not a work phone, the huge fluffy pink phone case giving her away. Jaida was painting her nails red.

Knowing that Vanessa had her defeated, Brooke cast her gaze to the keyboard surreptitiously. “Things might be different at Nicky’s end, though.”

“Brooke, Kiki told us that last week Nicky and her advisors went to the treasury and the entire comms team played jousting with their wheely chairs across the office until they got back.”

“Even Asia?”

“The whole thing had been her idea! C’mon, we’re goin’ for drinks tonight after work. Please come? Please?” Vanessa pleaded with a pout, taking Brooke’s hand and in turn sending an electric charge straight to her heart. “I always miss you when you ain’t with us.”

Well. This changed the whole situation. Vanessa missed her, and so clearly if Brooke came out tonight that would make her happy. All Brooke really wanted was to make Vanessa happy. No- that sounded weird, like she had a crush on her or something- all it was was that Brooke just loved seeing Vanessa smile and the prospect of having that smile directed at her was worth spending time with the opposition. Taking a long sip of her coffee, Brooke was amused by the way Vanessa’s face was frozen in suspense.

“Okay, I’ll come tonight. But!” Brooke held a hand up, attempting to silence the excited Vanessa who was jumping up and down in her chair like an energetic puppy. “- I’m not staying too long, and you’re buying me a drink.”

“Sweet!” Vanessa beamed, giving Brooke’s hand one last squeeze and letting it go. Beginning to wheel her chair back to her own desk, she threw her head back and groaned. “Man, I can’t wait for this day to be over now!”

Trying to recover from her interaction with the human cocker spaniel herself, she turned her attention to the comms team.

“Do you guys not have some actual work to be getting on with?”

“Look around you, Brooke. This place is like dark ages Russia,” Yvie stretched out in her chair lazily, distracted from her game. “There’s no phones ringing. Nobody gives a shit about Dosac at the moment, they’re still too busy going over the finer details of everyone’s expenses and why Coco Montrese claimed for a duck house.”

Brooke had to give the media that; Coco’s duck house did seem to win the award for most ridiculous claim made, and the very fact that it had cost £850 was front page-worthy in itself. Sighing, she stood up from her desk and started to walk towards Jackie’s office.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she reassured the girls, who were no longer paying attention and had resumed their game of table football. Knocking on Jackie’s glass door, she could see her lounging in her chair, her feet up on the table as she scrolled at her laptop, bored.

“Come in!”

Brooke opened the door and made her way inside. Not bothering to sit, she opted instead to lean against the wall. “Do you want to give those girls out there something to work on instead of just coffee?”

Jackie gave her a disgruntled glare, swinging her heels down off the desk and onto the floor with a heavy clunk.

“They’re not working on anything because there isn’t anything to work on. I can’t get anything I want off ground until the media actually acknowledge my existence. I mean, am I a real person? Am I a ghost?”

“Well you’re not transparent. But then again I don’t actually know what a ghost looks like, so that doesn’t totally rule you out. They do take on human form sometimes, don’t they?”

“Brooke, I’m serious!” Jackie snapped at her, Brooke biting back a laugh and apologising. “I mean, what do you have to do to get on TV these days? Soil myself? Eat a used tampon? I don’t know what the minimum requirements are anymore.”

“Please don’t do either of those things.”

“You know what I mean. I mean, where’s Bianca been? I’ve not seen her since my first day.”

“She’s been too busy drinking the blood of those old Ministers she had to fire and reshuffling the entire party like some horrific human card deck. You’ll see her again, don’t worry. She probably has a plan for this whole radio silence the media have decided to pull on you,” Brooke found herself reassuring Jackie, who was slumped forward with her head in her hands looking disappointed. Obviously comforted somewhat, she sat up straight in her chair and smiled at Brooke.

“Thanks, Brooke Lynn. I guess I could start preparing for that incapacity benefits debate on Friday?” she shrugged, pulling her laptop in front of her decisively.

“That’s the spirit,” Brooke gave the air an anaemic punch as she strolled out of the office again. Sitting back in her chair and sighing, she hoped that Bianca would show up before the day was out.  

***

Bianca did have a plan.

She turned up to the office at around nine-thirty, around half an hour after Brooke had spoken to Jackie, and greeted everyone with milder insults than normal which made Brooke think that she was in a good mood. As she called for Nina, Brooke, Vanessa and Jan to come to the office, something told Brooke that the day was about to get a lot more high-octane.

Bianca liked Jackie from what Brooke saw of their first meeting. She supposed “liked” was the wrong word- “highly tolerated”, or just simply “didn’t want to strangle her” would be more appropriate. Brooke thought it was probably because Jackie had that way of being pleasant enough without coming across as an ass-kisser or a bullshitter, two things that Bianca despised.  

“Right, the Loose Women panel,” she began, casting her hand across the girls in the room. “I’ve noticed that Jackie is getting about as much attention as Jedward’s third album. Nina I know you’re not quite up to speed with popular culture so in layman’s terms, that’s fuck all attention.”

Nina bristled with offence as the other girls laughed. “I’m not a damn fossil, thank you very much.”

“Anyway, all that is going to change today,” Bianca turned to face Jackie, looking her directly in the eye. “I’ve got you three interviews with major newspapers.”

“What, nothing on TV?” Jackie cried, frustrated. Brooke saw Vanessa visibly stiffen out of the corner of her eye in preparation for the oncoming hellfire Bianca was about to unleash.

“Oh I’m sorry, Marilyn Monroe! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a cabinet minister, not a fucking film star,” Bianca spat, her eyes glinting as she put Jackie in her place. “I’ve been busting my fucking ovaries to get this massive expenses fuck-up sorted and you want to argue the toss between having your face plastered over the papers or beamed into people’s living rooms? Calm the hell down. You have a fucking bundle to learn, let me tell you.”

Vanessa immediately hopped in, eager to dispel the tension that Bianca had created in the room. “Do we know who the interviews are with, Bianca?”

“We’ve got a print piece with The Independent. Laila McQueen is doing that one, she’s still young and will probably do the interview hungover so you should be alright. The second is for a supplement in The Times and it’s got an accompanying photoshoot. I think Fame is in charge of all that.”

Jackie laughed derisively, raising a single eyebrow in disbelief. “Fame?”

“Yes, Fame! That’s the bitch’s fucking name, and also what you’ll be avoiding for the rest of your career if you try to take the piss one more time!” Bianca folded her arms in defiance. Calming slightly and returning to her point, she continued. “Your last one of the day is with The Daily Mail.”

Brooke involuntarily sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. The Daily Mail had the potential to be a danger depending on who was conducting the interview.

“Do we know who we’ve got for that one?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t yet but it’s definitely not Gia Gunn. She’s away in Spain covering Yara Sofia’s wedding or some other tat,” Bianca curled her top lip, clearly unimpressed with the current standard of journalism.  

“Thank God. I don’t think I could sit listening to her speak through her nasal passages for a whole half hour,” Jan massaged her temples, already looking exhausted.

“Anyway, that’s an online interview so at least you’ll reach a larger audience. Your interview with McQueen is at 10.30, after that you’ll have a car to transport you and fucking Little Mix here to the next two. Are you clear on what the line is for everything?” Bianca asked, training one nail on Jackie’s face like a sniper.

“Yes,” Jackie said immediately.

“You’re still pushing what we spoke about last week?”

“Respond more compassionately to the refugee crisis, cut the banker’s bonuses and stop the war on benefit claimants,” Jackie fired off passionately, reminding Brooke of every single uni debate she’d ever taken part in.

Maybe she was going to be a force for good for this party after all.

“Jesus, nobody could accuse you of being wishy-washy,” Bianca raised her eyebrows, the closest thing to impressed Brooke had seen her in weeks. “Okay, go out into the world and make your mark! Make sure it’s not a skid mark. I’ll be back to check in at 4.”

With that, Bianca was carried away by her Jimmy Choos before Brooke could even wave her goodbye. Heaving a huge exhale, Jackie sat up in her chair and drummed her nails on the desk in what was either excitement or nervousness.  

“Look at you, Miss Cox! A photoshoot already for the next big thing in politics? You must’ve done somethin’ right,” Vanessa beamed at her, relaxing against the filing cabinet she had been standing beside. Jackie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“She’s right, this is a big deal, Jackie! You’re going to be Jan-tabulous,” Jan grinned, Brooke barely containing the way her eyes rolled at the awful pun.

Jackie’s cheeks became a little flushed as she gave Jan a hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Jan looked to the floor momentarily, tucking an unruly section of hair behind one ear as her own cheeks began to go a little pink. “Of course you will! Believe in yourself, I believe in you! I mean…we. We all do.”

The room was suddenly silent as Jackie unsuccessfully tried to hold back a massive smile, Jan still blushing and looking at the floor timidly. Looking to Nina incredulously, Brooke decided to swiftly move them all on from whatever the fuck this was.

“Told you Bianca would have a plan, didn’t I?” she raised her eyebrows smugly, stretching out in her chair like a cat.

“You did indeed, Brooke Lynn,” Jackie indulged her, smirking a little.

“Much as I’d love to join in the Brooke Was Right All Along celebrations, we do only have half an hour until we need to be at The Independent,” Nina clicked her pen impatiently, prompting a flurry of activity within the office. Vanessa was asked to phone for Jackie’s driver, Jan and Brooke were to collect any and all relevant notes that could be useful for the interviews, and Nina was asked to stay and go over the media briefing with Jackie one more time. As the girls rushed around the department getting things ready, Adore shouted over from the comms team asking what in the real and actual fuck was going on.

“Bianca’s kickstarting Jackie’s career so we’re going to be running around various media offices all day. We’re paying your girlfriend a visit, by the way,” Jan smirked, laughing at the way Adore blushed slightly and turned her attention back to her keyboard.

“Hey, you’re in no position to speak, girl,” Brooke lowered her voice as she joined Jan as she flicked her way through a massive filing cabinet. “What the hell was that in there? Ohh, we all believe in you Jackie, you’re going to do great, my eyes are actually made of heart emojis!”

Brooke immediately regretted her comments as Jan suddenly hit her with a massive lever arch file, her face unimpressed. “I’m simply trying to be nice and supportive. You know, being nice? You maybe did it once back in 2001 or something?”

Unable to help herself, Brooke let out a peal of laughter. “Shut up. Let’s get moving before Bianca comes back to yell at us for being late.”

With the five girls all assembled, they began to make their way to the lift. Jackie looked every inch the confident, successful politician in her smart outfit, shining, polished patent heels, and perfect makeup. However inside Brooke knew she would be terrified and that in turn terrified her. As much as she still didn’t have a huge amount of faith in Jackie she hoped and prayed she wouldn’t fuck up. As they were about to step into the lift, Brooke felt a sudden tug on the sleeve of her coat. Turning round, she saw Adore looking a little nervous.

“Brooke,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the comms team anxiously. “I’m not really seeing Laila McQueen…well, not seeing seeing her. But, uh…if you catch her. Could you tell her I said hi?”

Giving her a quick look up and down, Brooke could tell Adore was serious.

“Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for her? Because this could be a total mess, Adore. If you get into a relationship with her and put one foot out of line our party’s going to be all over the papers like cat piss,” she warned her sternly. Adore seemed to already have considered this, and tugged down the sleeves of her smart shirt over her knuckles.

“I know what I’m getting myself into. Just…let her know, okay?”

With that, Adore turned on her six-inch heels and walked back to her desk, her face hiding any trace of the conversation ever having happened. Still slightly thrown, Brooke walked into the lift just as the doors closed behind her.

“Timed that well, genius,” Jan quipped as Brooke quickly fixed her hair in the mirror.

What was happening to the office, Brooke wondered. Scarlet and Yvie were all loved up, something (God knows what) was going on with Jan, and now Adore was trying to make things serious with a journalist, of all people.

At least she could say that she’d never get herself into something as ridiculous as a workplace relationship.

***

Sitting at the sidelines and watching Jackie’s interview with Laila McQueen wrap up, Brooke breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had gone well. Really well, actually. From the moment Jackie had walked in and greeted the young journalist, it was clear that Laila was impressed by her and the interview had seemed more like a friendly chat if anything. No matter how well it had gone, though, it hadn’t stopped Vanessa being on edge and she’d sat and picked at the split ends in her hair for the entire hour, completely tense. Jan had sat enraptured by the entire thing, her elbows resting on her knees and her head resting in her hands as she listened to Jackie talk. Nina, on the other hand, had slowly made her way through the entire plate of biscuits The Independent had provided them, seemingly not the least bit bothered whether Jackie succeeded or failed.

Remembering her promise to Adore, Brooke went up and greeted the journalist just as they were all making to leave.

“Ms McQueen.”

“Brooke Lynn, right?” she smiled, holding out an overly-formal hand for her to shake. Brooke took it tentatively.

“Um, yeah. How did you-”

“Sweetheart, I work in journalism. We make it our business to know everything about anyone who’s anyone, or who knows anyone who’s anyone even remotely,” Laila reeled off cryptically.

“Uh, great. Anyway, I just came over to say that Adore says hi. Clearly she’s not in any way bothered about seeming desperate,” she added at the end as she inwardly despaired of the junior comms officer. Laila shook her head and gave a funny sort of laugh.

“Well. Tell her she’s got my number if she ever wants to tell me herself,” she smiled flirtatiously as she swaggered away, as if she’d been talking to Adore herself. Cursing herself for allowing herself to be intimidated by some fresh-out-the-womb journalist, Brooke quickly caught up with the other girls in the car.

Interview number two and the accompanying photoshoot was less perfect. Jackie had the detriment of being interviewed by the infamous Fame, who asked her a lot more hard-hitting questions. Jackie gave as good as she got and fired back counterattacking statements, facts and figures as the four other girls sat and watched the verbal tennis match that was unfolding in front of them. Still, the photoshoot went a little better and Jackie seemed pretty confident in front of the camera. If Brooke was feeling generous she would even say that the Minister looked good, but it was already half past one and she’d still not had any lunch so to say she was feeling irritable was putting it mildly. With a curt nod and a handshake from Fame they were out of the building and into the car to the next interview, Jackie squashed between Vanessa and Jan and Brooke and Nina sitting opposite them. With a groan, Jackie immediately pulled off her heels.

“Oh God, Jackie, could you at least wait until we’re not in the car to do that? You’re not at home in front of the TV, this is a Cabinet Minister’s Bentley,” Brooke turned her nose up.

“Hey, lay off! These heels are just hard to break in. God, I’m already exhausted,” Jackie sighed, tipping her head to the side and resting it on Jan’s shoulder. Brooke watched as Jan’s eyes grew momentarily huge, then as she stayed painfully still as if Jackie was a little bird or butterfly that she didn’t want to scare away.

“Nina,” Vanessa asked as she leant forward in her seat and furrowed her brow. “You got any word on who’s doing this interview yet?”

“I only know what Bianca’s told us, I’m afraid. When I know, you’ll know,” Nina replied lazily, scrolling through her work phone with boredom. Vexed, Brooke frowned at her.

“Nina, what actually is your job title? Communications officer with the society for the deaf, blind and dumb?”

“Okay! Okay, God, I’ll send a few texts. Chill,” Nina rolled her eyes, beginning to tap at her phone.

“She’s going to send a few texts. Some really groundbreaking stuff here, folks.”

“Will you two stop with the bickering?” Vanessa hissed, slamming her folder on her knees for emphasis. “We still got ten minutes in this car, can’t we all arrive at The Daily Mail without any limbs havin’ been hacked off?”

There was a frosty silence in the car as it rumbled along the streets of London, every so often getting caught in inevitable traffic and being crowded up in between huge, double-decker buses and black cabs. Brooke was worried. Bianca usually knew by now who was conducting the interview and the fact that she apparently didn’t yet, or had just neglected to tell them, wasn’t good.

After a few minutes in which the silence was only broken by the rumble of the car’s engine, Nina spoke again.

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

All four of the others turned to face Nina, who was looking at her phone quizzically. Obviously taking their concerned faces as a prompt, she continued talking.

“The interview is with…Shangela Wadely?”

The silence continued, only this time everyone’s faces became somewhat more crumpled up.

“Ring any bells with anyone?” Nina asked tentatively.

Brooke was stumped. She had been expecting perhaps Delta and had been bracing herself for a rocky interview at best, but she had never heard of this Shangela girl before. She must have been new on the scene, which was a worry because now they had no idea what to make of how this interview would go.

“Whoever the bitch is, I’m sure the interview will go amazin’,” Vanessa eventually smiled, her optimism and positivity making Brooke worry a little less.

“Jan-mazing!” Jan piped up happily, earning her a groan from the four other women in the car.

Eventually arriving at the offices of The Daily Mail, they were ushered through various corridors by a receptionist who was clearly rushed off her feet. She deposited them in some form of lobby, told them that Shangela would be with them in a few minutes, and after that they were left on their own. Trying to get her bearings, Brooke took in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that everything was eerily pink. The odd sofa-slash-bench things they were sitting on were pink, the carpet was a light pink, the walls looked like something in Barbie’s dream house. It was as if they’d turned up to be interviewed by Delores Umbridge. As each minute passed, Brooke became less and less able to take her surroundings seriously.

“How the hell is this the décor in a newspaper office? I feel like I’m sitting inside a womb,” she eventually said, not without a generous helping of disgust.

“Well, Bianca did say it was an online piece. Maybe they’re more lax about their offices in the web department?” Jan shrugged, scrutinizing the furniture around them.

Something about it still wasn’t sitting right with Brooke. However, she barely had time to think too much about it as a bright, bubbly woman emerged from a pink corridor to greet them. She was wearing a short, blue shift dress which complimented her dark skin and glossy brown hair, and her makeup was perfect. This girl seemed miles away from the journalists Brooke knew, most of them all usually hungover or sporting their makeup from the night before or bad-tempered. The girl introduced herself as Shangela and showed them all through to another eerily pink room but this time set up and equipped for an interview, another girl getting various things ready inside. To Brooke’s delight there was a sandwich platter sat on a table at the back of the room. Reaching for a plate, she began piling them up on top of each other, reigning it in with embarrassment as she saw Vanessa standing beside her. Looking at her friend, she noticed a small, worried frown on her face.

“Hey. This will go fine, okay? Jackie’s got this.”

“I know. I’m just nervous, Brooke. I’ve been to the web offices before, we both have, when we were with Darienne. This looks like we’re in the wrong place,” Vanessa whispered, tugging on a lock of hair.

“Yeah, well, maybe Jan’s right. Maybe this is just an extension or another section of the offices or something. We’ll definitely be in the web department, even if it looks like the inside of Sharpay Evans’ locker. Don’t worry,” Brooke gave Vanessa a brave smile.

“You’re so good at calming me down. Sorry for bein’ a mess,” Vanessa smiled back somewhat apologetically. “Thanks, Brooke Lynn.”

Before Brooke could even open her mouth to reply, Vanessa had sat down on the ridiculously pink sofa beside Jan and Nina, waiting for the interview to begin. All appetite suddenly gone, Brooke replaced the plate of sandwiches on the table and joined Vanessa on the sofa. She was so warm and the room was so cold and Brooke had to fight the urge to cuddle up to her.

She watched as Shangela sat down in the chair opposite Jackie, the random girl who was clearly her assistant handing her a bottle of water, her notes and her recorder.

“So we’ll just get straight into it and we’ll edit bits out and together as necessary, okay?” Shangela smiled at Jackie, who nodded a little nervously and shifted in her seat. Picking up her recorder, Shangela pressed a single button and sat back in her seat. “Interview with Jackie Cox, commencing at 15.07 on the 14th of October, 2016. Hi Jackie, it’s so good to have you with us today!”

“It’s good to be here, Shangela. I’m just excited to show your readers what I’m about and what they can expect from the party with me as head of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship,” Jackie reeled off, smiling pleasantly back at her.

This was a good start. Shangela seemed cheerful enough, relatable and happy and keen to present Jackie in a good light.

“I have to say, I’m absolutely loving this outfit you have on, Jackie. Can you tell me a little bit about it, why did you choose that particular one today?” Shangela asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Brooke furrowed her brow. This wasn’t exactly ideal- Jackie was here to talk policy, not the contents of her walk-in wardrobe. Reminding herself that these sorts of questions were unfortunately expected if you were a woman working in politics, Brooke tried to relax. This was just one stupid question about fashion to try and endear her to the female electorate, she was sure Shangela meant well. Jackie looked somewhat like a deer in the headlights as she cast a quick glance to her advisors sitting on the sofa. Brooke nodded rapidly and enthusiastically, circling her hand in a bit to move Jackie along.

“Um, well it’s black and white. And…it’s a nice suit. And I chose it because I liked it and I needed to look smart for work, I guess?” she shrugged, smoothing down her trousers self-consciously.

“It’s gorgeous. Where did you pick it up?”

“Um…from the hangers in my wardrobe?” Jackie laughed awkwardly, glancing again to the girls on the sofa. “I’m sorry I don’t, um…?”

Shangela laughed with her, slightly falsely, Brooke noted. That tight feeling in her stomach returned again, and she willed Shangela to start asking her about Jackie’s actual job sooner rather than later.

“I have to say, Jackie, you’ve got a great sense of humour, some great style- the guys must be falling over each other to snap you up! Tell me, is there a man in your life at the moment?” Shangela continued, reaching for her water bottle. Jackie’s mouth dropped open a little bit, something between a laugh and a cough coming out. She looked clearly offended, and if she was being honest Brooke didn’t blame her. The archaic questions were beginning to wear thin, and Jackie was obviously keen to start talking about what she was actually there for, instead of whatever this was.  

“Well, I’m not interested in men at all actually, so no,” Jackie replied curtly, her face completely unimpressed and her upper lip curled. There were two ticks of silence where it was Shangela’s turn to look taken aback, and Brooke didn’t dare turn her head to gauge the reactions of the other girls. Shuffling through her notes Shangela continued, the false smile back on her face again.

“So, you’re a woman in politics- a lesbian woman in politics-” Shangela corrected herself, adding in the extra word as if it was somehow relevant to what she was about to ask her. “Are there any other women around Westminster whose style you’re particularly jealous of at the moment? Or indeed, anyone that you’ve got your eye on?”

Jackie raised both her eyebrows and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth very deliberately, as if she was considering what she was about to say. “I don’t really know how this is relevant at all, to be quite honest. Can we move on?”

Brooke jumped as Vanessa’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist, her nails almost digging into her skin. Glancing quickly at her, Brooke saw that Vanessa’s face looked absolutely terrified, like she’d just been thrown off a ski jump blindfold.

“It’s okay, she’s got this,” Brooke whispered to her, Vanessa nodding ever so slightly but still not releasing her grip on Brooke’s arm.

She could live with that, even if it was starting to cut off the blood circulation to her hand.

“Of course, no problem,” Shangela nodded, glancing at Jackie through narrowed eyes and looking once more at her notes. Soon enough the fake smile was back on her face. “So, as a Cabinet Minister, you’re obviously in a position where you’re sometimes out of the department working all day.”

Delighted that Shangela had finally deviated from asking her such pointless questions, Jackie immediately launched into an answer.

“I’m so glad you brought that up because just today I had an interview with The Independent, where we spoke about my targets over my time in office. I want to make sure that the party is-”

“Ah, so even today you’ve been on the go!” Shangela cut her off, and Brooke thought she couldn’t sound more patronising if she’d tried. “So when you find you’ve got a day like this, what sort of things do you keep in your handbag to make sure you can confidently go about your work and slay whilst doing it?”

Jackie looked momentarily as if she’d been slapped. Ignoring the question, she turned to directly face the girls, and Vanessa’s nails dug into Brooke’s skin once more.

“Is this interview definitely with The Daily Mail or for a 1950’s edition of Cosmo?” she laughed, her eyes dark. Brooke heard Jan suck in an enormous breath of air between her teeth. Vanessa froze. Nina looked like she hadn’t a clue what to say. Brooke was rarely stuck for how to react, but even she was lost for words. Shangela was looking at her assistant with wide eyes, as if she didn’t know either.

“Miss Cox, these questions are simply designed to appeal to the female electorate and help portray you in a favourable, relatable light,” Shangela explained through gritted teeth.

“Well, here. Start maybe by not dumbing them down so much and assuming that the only way they can understand politics is through the finer points of my damn washing basket,” Jackie snapped, standing up from the chair and grabbing her bag decisively. “Ladies, come on. I’m not hugely interested in giving these people any more of my time.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph I feel like I’ve just been pushed out of a plane,” Vanessa whispered breathlessly, frozen to the sofa.

“Jackie, maybe Shangela has some different questions-” Brooke began, desperately trying to placate both the Minister and Shangela. Already the journalist’s face was scheming, as if she knew what headline she was going to run already.

“Screw that, I’m not staying here! If I wanted to sit through half an hour of painful misogyny I could just go and stand outside a building site wearing fishnets and a push-up bra. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Jackie insisted, wrenching open the door. Dutifully, Brooke stood up and followed her, Vanessa not once letting go of her wrist. She couldn’t see Jan’s face, but somehow she already knew it would be similar to her own. As Jackie stormed through the offices and back outside like a tornado, Brooke started thinking less about the diabolical interview and more about how they were going to firefight the inevitable aftermath.

Finally outside, Jackie took a deep breath as the other girls watched her nervously.

“Nina, phone the driver please and tell him if he’s not here within the next two minutes I’m going to cut off his face, turn it into a mask and wear it to the next fancy dress party I get invited to,” she finally blurted out, still clearly angry and shaken by the interview.

“I’ll, um. I’ll maybe just tell him to be as quick as he can,” Nina reasoned, shuffling off to a quieter stretch of the street to make the phonecall.

“What the flying pelican hell was that?!” Jackie cried, staring at the three advisors with incredulity. “Did we time travel? Are we suddenly in the 1950’s? Christ, I thought that these days they’d at least be subtle about sexist bullshit like this, but no!”

“You know you’ve just massively fucked up, right? You can’t just storm out of an interview like that and expect it not to be all over the front pages tomorrow. You’re not any better at just learning to keep your mouth shut now than you were eight years ago, are you?” Brooke snapped, her last sentence out before she knew it. Vanessa was upset, and in Brooke’s view Jackie was the one that had made her upset, so therefore Jackie was getting all of her blame right now and not that airhead journalist.  

“So I was just supposed to sit there and answer all that crap like a good little Stepford politician?! Jesus, Brooke, do you not understand just how patronising all of those questions were?”

“Jackie’s right,” Jan spoke up slowly. “To sit through an interview like that would’ve portrayed her as someone that’s never going to be of any threat in Westminster whatsoever. This is going to paint her as someone that should be taken seriously, someone that doesn’t fuck about.”

Upon hearing Jan’s words Jackie seemed to calm down by a good 50%, and smiled at her gratefully. In response Jan’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the ground. Brooke couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was absolute madness, and she couldn’t be the only one that was terrified at how the fallout of this would affect Jackie’s position in the party. Giving up on both of them, she turned her attention instead to Vanessa, who was sitting alone on the steps leading up to The Daily Mail’s offices.

“V,” Brooke murmured as she sat down beside her. “You okay?”

Vanessa sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Jeez, I’ve been through some stresses in this job but that was just…a new level. I’ve never seen anythin’ like that before. She’s going to get slaughtered by them, Brooke Lynn. What are we gonna do?”

Without thinking, Brooke put her arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, pulling her in close in an attempt to help her relax. “We’ll do what we always do, baby. Spin  the entire situation. And you’re going to be the best at it out of us all. You’re clever and creative and crafty, and you’re going to be an asset to us this afternoon. And probably this evening, to be honest, I doubt this is all going to be sorted in a matter of hours.”

Brooke’s heart hammered as Vanessa looked up to her, her eyes wide and dark and so gorgeous that Brooke briefly lost her breath. She felt suddenly as if she should say something to her, tell her something, but she didn’t quite know what.

Brooke’s gaze was averted from Vanessa’s eyes by a sleek black car pulling up on the road in front of them.

“Jackie, the car!” Brooke yelled up the steps, standing up and taking Vanessa’s hand without thinking.

“This’ll all be okay, right?” Vanessa asked, squeezing Brooke’s hand tentatively.

“Hey. We’re the dream team, remember? This’ll be easy,” Brooke smiled, stepping into the car and praying inwardly that she was right.

***  

It was front page of The Daily Mail’s main website in a matter of hours.

EXCLUSIVE: AS JACKIE COX WAVES HER SEXUALITY IN OUR FACES AND STORMS OUT OF INTERVIEW, WE SAY…PLUG THE DYKE!

“Wow. I knew they were sensationalist, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so flippant about plastering a slur all over their website like that,” Nina said awkwardly, as the other girls sat open-mouthed in front of their own monitors.

“I…actually can’t believe they published this,” Vanessa whispered, clearly in shock.

Brooke couldn’t believe it either. She knew that the world hadn’t suddenly been cured of all bigotry just because women had rights and the LGBT community could vote, but she was amazed that the newspaper had managed to get away with something quite so blatantly homophobic.

“Is Jackie okay…?” she spoke up, casting an eye to the glass office where Jackie appeared to have her head in her hands. Immediately, Jan sprang up from her seat.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said, already halfway across the office on her way to Jackie’s door.

Even Bianca was silent, perched at Vanessa’s desk like a bird of prey. She’d practically lain in wait for them at the office, somehow already aware of what had gone on at The Daily Mail, and had given that one single blood vein on her forehead a good exercise as she yelled at Jackie until she was purple-faced. It turned out that with a simple Google search, Shangela Wadely could be identified as the editor-in-chief of Femail, the Daily Mail’s online section devoted entirely to women. Brooke couldn’t even summon the energy to be mad at Nina for not doing her research. If she was being honest, knowing the segment of the website they were doing an interview for beforehand wouldn’t really have changed the situation. The questions would still have been ridiculous, like some mad parody of a TV show created 60 years ago, and Jackie still would’ve probably not wanted to answer them.

Once Bianca had finished incinerating them all she had worked together with Jackie and the advisors to sort out a line. The dilemma soon became clear; did Jackie come out and address misogyny in the media as an important issue to be tackled or would that make too much noise for a minister who’d only been a week in office? Jan had been enthusiastically pushing the pro-feminist stance, googling those This Is What A Feminist Looks Like t-shirts before the cons of the argument could even be established. Brooke had been wary of it herself, scared of what the dangers of being so outspoken could pose.

“You could really split the electorate with this, Jackie. You know what the public are like, half of them still see the word ‘feminist’ and sharpen their pitchforks before you can even explain what the word actually means. It’s risky,” she’d mused, biting on the end of her pen. She’d looked up at Bianca, about to ask her what she’d thought when Nina had yelled that The Daily Mail had the story up on their website, and they had all dashed to their monitors to check.    

Most of them were still staring at the headline in shock.

“Bianca,” Brooke said, quietly but not so that she couldn’t hear. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Bianca was deep in thought for a few seconds, then suddenly she sprang up from Vanessa’s desk, thundering across the floor. “Okay, this is what we’re going to run with! The homophobia and misogyny in the British media is rife and today it has reared its ugly head. Call for condemnation of The Daily Mail, set fire to their houses, fuckin’ eat their children, I don’t care! But just let everyone know that if they even so much as try to make Jackie look like the bad guy in this situation, then they’ll have me to answer to!”

Brooke immediately took to her phone, opening up her list of contacts and settling first on Dida at The Telegraph. Bianca didn’t usually fully show too much kindness to members of the cabinet, but maybe she was a fan of Jackie after all. Brooke had never seen her get quite so defensive over one of her Ministers before, but then again that headline had been disgusting and she wasn’t surprised that Bianca was enraged.  As Jan dashed out of Jackie’s office and hit the phone, Brooke found herself hoping that Jackie was alright. Just because she still wasn’t sold about her as a Minister didn’t mean she had any right to put up with shit like that from any news outlet.

A series of conversations and constantly ringing phones later and Brooke still hadn’t reached the halfway point in her list of contacts or was even a quarter of the way through. Her throat was bone dry from repeating the same thing over and over again, and from the looks of it everyone in the office felt the same. Even Bianca seemed to be at risk of carpal tunnel from the force at which she was typing things into her phone.  It had reached almost five o’clock and it didn’t appear as if the newspapers were going to let up, or indeed if any of them were going to be heading home anytime soon. So when Nina’s phone rang for what seemed to be the thousandth time, nobody paid any attention at first. That was until she ran over to Bianca.

“Bianca! Bianca, this is important!” Nina hissed, the phone cord stretching to inhuman proportions as Nina leant over to where Bianca stood. “I’ve got Widow Von’Du on the phone.”

There was suddenly a moment where everyone in the department held their breath, then immediately made their excuses to whoever they were on the phone to and hung up.

“Jackie, get out here!” Bianca yelled into Jackie’s office. Obviously bracing herself for more bad news, Jackie trudged out of her office, her face holding a brave smile despite the defeat in her eyes.

“What’s the development, then? Is The Daily Mail’s front page tomorrow just a huge portrait picture of me with another massive slur in capital letters and size 72 font?” she joked despairingly. Jan was the first to speak, clearly excited at the prospect of cheering Jackie up.

“No, Jackie, this is good! Nina has Widow Von’Du on the phone!” she whispered, as if she was conscious that Widow could hear them through the phone.

“What?!”

“Yes! She’s in my hand right now! Apparently she admired your stance against the sexism that’s still so rife in politics and she wants you on the six o’clock news to discuss it with her!” Nina beamed, the phone still pressed to her chest.

Jackie’s entire face immediately changed, her expression first shocked, then sort of confused, and then finally relieved happiness as she struggled to get her words out. “Tell her I’ll be there!”

“Jackie, are you sure this is a good-”

“Tell her I’ll fucking be there, before she hangs up! Oh my God, Widow Von’Du. I’m going to be interviewed by Widow Von’Du, fuck!” Jackie squealed excitedly, spontaneously crushing Jan in a tight hug.  

Brooke couldn’t help but smile fondly at Jackie. She was clearly happy, excited at the prospect of turning the day around. Part of her was apprehensive about the fact she was about to be interviewed by Widow Von'Du, though. To compare Widow to somebody else would be foolish- she was incomparable, a standalone figure in the world of journalism, the Nelson’s Column of interviewers. To be interviewed by her was a bit like being asked for an audience with the queen.

“Right, we need to do a lot of things very quickly. Vanessa, you need to phone for the car to Broadcasting House. Brooke, locate some makeup and spruce this bitch up a bit, okay? Jan, you’re gonna go with Jackie to the interview, start grabbing any notes you can get your hands on, anything relevant. Scarlet! Yvie! Jaida! I want you ladies to start phoning anyone and everyone you know, I don’t care if it’s Raja Gemini or Ellen DeGeneres’ cat. Get some fucking hype going around this, this is big, this is the splash we want to be making! Oh, and Adore!” Bianca finished, looking Adore dead in the eye and consequently making her look as if she’d wet her pants.

“Yes, Bianca?” she asked, terrified.

“…get me a fuckin’ Fanta!”

***

The tension and excitement were palpable in the air as Brooke, Vanessa, Bianca and the entire comms team all sat huddled around the huge LCD TV in the corner of the offices. Brooke’s stomach felt as if it was an atrium full of butterflies. If Jackie pulled this off, this would be amazing for her career. If she crashed and burned, she may as well just resign now.

“What time’s it?” asked Vanessa, her voice anxious.

“Five fifty-nine,” said Scarlet, looking up at Vanessa from her space on the floor beside the sofa. “Do you want me to do a countdown?”

“What is this, a fucking space exploration? I just want us all to sit and look at the fucking TV and shut up until Jackie’s home and dry, is that too much to ask?” Bianca cut in, clearly unimpressed by how chilled out Scarlet was. Put out, Scarlet instead cuddled close to Yvie and rested her head on her shoulder.

For a moment Brooke was jealous of them both, jealous of what they had. She sometimes wanted someone to curl up to if she was tired and someone to go home with at the end of the day because despite how much she tried to argue otherwise, she did fleetingly get lonely. Her studio flat often seemed like a giant hen coop and perhaps it was the tiny enclosed space that worsened the feeling, but often it was hard pretending she was such a stone-cold bitch all of the time. It was hard working all day with someone like Vanessa and knowing that she was so beautiful and kind and intelligent and such a ray of sunshine and the complete opposite of her, and that she could be snapped up at any moment by any fucking ridiculous guy that wanted her and that shouldn’t bother her, fuck, why did it bother her?

Brooke was wrenched out of her increasingly spiralling thought process by Adore hitting her shoulder repeatedly. In a daze, Brooke’s eyes focussed on the TV screen where the all too familiar “pips” of the BBC news at six began to play. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even Bianca.

Dun-dun. “Desperate for shelter- as the refugee crisis worsens, the BBC asks how much longer is the Prime Minister going to ignore it?”

Dun-dun. “Could house prices be getting worse instead of better? Chi-Chi Devayne finds out if you should be selling up or staying put.”

Dun-dun. Brooke sat bolt upright in her seat as a huge, blown-up screengrab of the Daily Mail article filled the screen, backed with the recording of Jackie’s interview in which she walked out. “And, is Britain’s treatment of women only going backwards? In the wake of her interview with The Daily Mail, Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship Jackie Cox talks to Widow Von'Du about why this should serve as a wake-up call to journalists across the country.”

As the intro began to play and Widow was revealed sitting in front of her desk, Brooke still wasn’t able to relax. Jackie probably wouldn’t be on for another fifteen minutes but that wasn’t going to stop her worrying. Looking up at Bianca she saw that she was looking at her phone.

“Bianca. Any word from Jan?”

Snapping her head up from the screen, Bianca gave some semblance of a reassuring glance. “Just got a text from her. She says that Jackie’s raring to go, already met Widow and they got on like a house on fire. She says it’s very unlikely that we have anything to worry about.”

“Great, so am I good to go home now?” Nina asked, lazily lifting her head up from the huge cushions of the sofa. Bianca only had to fix her with a withering glance and her head was immediately back down again.

Turning her head around from the item on the TV, Jaida suddenly spoke up. “So, why hasn’t the PM actually spoken out about the refugee crisis anyway?”

Seemingly glad for a distraction, Bianca sighed. “It’s not without me trying. I’ve practically been on my hands and knees begging to get him to say something, anything, I don’t know. Even a whisper that sounds something vaguely like “refugees” but could actually just have been him saying “cheese” would be better than nothing. At least we could turn that into a fucking soundbite.”

“Surely he can’t stay silent forever?” Yvie snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well, until he does speak I’m going to have to use all these fucking Ministers as sock puppets for the things I want him to say. That’s why I’m hoping this interview is going to go well, so that when Jackie is finished she’s going to be so well-loved by the public that they’ll hang off her every word. Hopefully by the time this interview ends, the PM might as well just be fucking redundant.”

“Shh! Guys!” Vanessa hissed, flapping one hand excitedly at the TV screen and holding on tightly to Brooke’s arm with the other.

Fuck, why did she need to do that?

“…joined by secretary of state for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, Jackie Cox. Miss Cox, welcome,” Widow smiled at her, her face genuine and warm and making Brooke want to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hi Widow, it’s good to be here,” Jackie smiled back. She seemed at ease and pretty relaxed. Jan clearly hadn’t been bullshitting them.

“So, obviously today you’ve been subject to a lot of scrutiny, certainly online. Could you perhaps explain what happened to our viewers who may not know what it was that occurred?”

“Of course,” Jackie nodded, leaning forward a little in her seat. “I was basically given an interview by a journalist at The Daily Mail, which I thought would be covering my career and my policies and short term and long term goals- you know, things like that.”

Widow nodded sagely from her chair.

“It turned out- I didn’t know this at the time- but it turned out that the story was for the section of the website targeted at women. What basically happened was the journalist asking me questions that I didn’t think were in any way relevant to my status as a politician, as a secretary of state, as a Minister.”

“What sort of questions were those?” Widow asked, obviously knowing full well.

“Things such as what I kept in my handbag, if I was jealous of any other women in Westminster, if I had a boyfriend…that sort of thing,” Jackie explained, laughing a little humourlessly. Widow smiled.

“Now obviously we’re laughing but it’s an incredibly prevalent issue in the media at the moment- the underlying, often subtle sexism in the media directed to female politicians,” Widow frowned, Jackie animatedly sitting up in her chair and beginning to speak before Widow had even asked her a question.

“Well absolutely, and often it’s very blatant too! For example, the sort of language The Sun used when they wrote about Nina Flowers after it emerged that she wouldn’t stand in the by-election as she had suffered a miscarriage. Also a lot of the opposition’s leadership contest was shambolic in that sense as well. There were three women in the running so obviously every paper referred to it as a catfight, in fact I think The Star photoshopped the heads of all three candidates onto cats?” Jackie ranted, Widow just letting her speak and nodding repeatedly throughout. “Oh and lest we forget that infamous line from Nicky Doll; that Manila Luzon shouldn’t be the next leader of the opposition because she dresses like a blind ape throwing clothes around in a Primark. It’s really quite disheartening, Widow.”

“Absolutely, and all very relevant and indeed current examples you gave there,” Widow agreed enthusiastically. “So what sort of effect does this then have on women in politics- in fact, let me revise that. What sort of effect does this then have on women in general?”

Jackie paused to think over the question. “Well, the main issue I have is how this will affect kids. The way that boys will think it’s okay to talk about girls, the way that girls will think it’s okay to talk about each other. I mean, that entire opposition leadership contest was a chance to show the country the finest example of intelligent, strong women, and to see it reduced to a mud-slinging contest over who had the best hair and makeup was really quite insulting. It might put off women who want to enter politics if they think they run the risk of being talked about by both the media and other politicians alike in such a disparaging manner which has nothing to do with their policies at all.”

Widow nodded understandingly before asking the next question. “So going forward then- what would you personally like to see done to tackle this sort of behaviour from the media?”

“Well, I’d like a great big hamper and an apology from the Daily Mail,” Jackie joked, earning a genuine laugh from Widow. “No, in all seriousness, I’d just like them to think about what language they use. Today for example, the wording of that headline was just…it actually did leave me lost for words because it was blatant homophobia used in plain view of the public. A lot of the problem with the way things are reported is the language used to do so, so just that little bit more scrutiny can go a long way. This isn’t even just an issue exclusive to homophobia and sexism, often there’s so much language that’s shockingly racist or just plain bigoted too. Another thing I think everyone in politics should do is call media outlets out about things like this. I’m not saying women from opposing parties suddenly have to be the best of friends but if you notice someone else getting spoken about in such a way that’s degrading to women, even just fire off a simple tweet about it. Stuff like that gets noticed and if we all act together, it’ll eventually combat this kind of reporting in the media.”

Widow smiled and gave a sort of conclusive nod. “Jackie Cox- thank you.”

Vanessa almost leapt out of her chair with excitement. “Guys! That went so well! That couldn’t have gone any better at all! Right, Bianca?”

“She was certainly very eloquent. And she managed to smear the opposition without even noticing, I think. A win on both counts in my book,” Bianca gave a rare genuine smile, now immediately on her phone. Looking up, she nodded to everyone. “Right, my work here is done and so, I guess, is yours. You can all fuck off home if you like.”

Shrugging, Bianca turned around and made her way out of the department. Saying a quick goodbye Nina, Adore and Jaida all left to pack up their things too, leaving Scarlet, Yvie, Vanessa and Brooke all huddled around the TV. For a moment they were all silent, too tired or relieved to even speak. After a few seconds, Yvie broke the silence.

“Right. Pub?”

***

The bar was dimly lit, hues of red from the filtered lights giving a small amount of illumination to the corner that the girls had curled up in. Scarlet and Yvie were on the sofa against the wall, Yvie’s arm slung around her girlfriend’s skinny frame. Scarlet kept stifling yawns, indicating that she was flagging after their stressful day. Vanessa was their polar opposite, re-telling the story of Jackie’s interview with Shangela animatedly and frantically waving her arms. Jan had joined them and she was sat on the other sofa beside Brooke, smiling with amusement at Vanessa’s tipsy story-telling. Silky sounded as if her lungs were about to give out from laughter, her vodka cranberry swaying dangerously in her grip.

Silky was actually alright, Brooke mused. She was loud and crazy and talked more than she listened but as a mutual friend on a night out she wasn’t horrible. She’d greeted Brooke warmly enough, the two only having spoken briefly before tonight. Maybe Vanessa had been right. Silky just seemed like a standard working girl just trying to make it through to the weekend, who incidentally seemed pretty comfortable bitching about her boss and her other colleagues.

As Vanessa finished off her story, Silky took a long sip of her drink and leant back in her chair. “Good for Jackie, bitch! The Daily Mail needs taking down a peg or two anyway, it’s the fuckin’ worst. Between us girls, though? I would look out for your boss. Nicky is shook. She was not happy with Jackie’s lil’ dig at her in that interview and I feel like there might be some kinda storm brewing.”

Brooke and Vanessa shared a brief, concerned glance. Turning to Jan, Brooke noticed that she looked fearful and had reached out to grab Silky’s arm.

“Wait, what’s she planning?” Jan asked, clearly nervous. Silky simply raised her eyebrows, picking up her whiskey and swirling it around in her hand.

“Well hell, girl! I’d be damned if I know, I’m a civil servant! Do you think they tell me anything? Do they tell you anything?” she turned to Yvie and Scarlet, questioning her ruling party counterparts. Yvie let out a derisive laugh as an answer while Scarlet gave a sleepy shake of her head, clearly a hair’s breadth away from sleep or death (Brooke couldn’t tell which). Satisfied with their answer, Silky simply cast a hand to Brooke’s two colleagues and held it there, clearly satisfied at having made her point.

“If you hear anything though, Silk,” Vanessa insisted, knitting her brows together. Her friend simply cut her off before she could finish.

“Of course I’ll let you know. I am, after all, the ruling party’s unofficial corporate spy. Y’all can thank me later.”

Yvie and Scarlet clapped appreciatively and Silky gave a little bow. Brooke was still troubled by what she had told them, though. If the opposition did have a plan things probably weren’t looking good for the week ahead, least of all if Bob was behind it. Even if she was known as “the less savage Bianca”, Bob was cunning and sly and could wreak some severe havoc across the party. Having been the party’s spin doctor for some years now, she knew every trick in the book and paired with Nicky, her scheming advisors, and Asia (Nina’s opposite number), there certainly could be some amount of shitstorm brewing.

Some form of compere had taken to the “stage” beside the bar (a single dim halogen light, a microphone and one speaker) and was announcing the start of an open mic night. Silky’s face lit up excitedly as she leapt up from her chair, only to be immediately shoved back down again by Yvie.

“For the millionth time, you’re not doing an acoustic Whitney Houston greatest hits medley,” she said with a long-suffering shake of her head. A scraggy sort of guy with a long beard took to the spotlight.

“My name is Alex, and this one is called Wonderwall.”

Brooke’s entire table groaned.

“Fuck me senseless. I’m going for a cigarette,” Yvie announced, hurriedly escaping the bar.

“I’ll join you,” Brooke shrugged, the prospect of social smoking preferable to sitting through the inevitable dirge that was to come.

Bursting the door open and gasping a little as the cold air hit her bare arms, Brooke leant against the cold brick wall and sighed deeply. Lighting up, Yvie looked at her with a funny sort of smile.

“What?” Brooke asked.

“Nothing. Just wondering when you’re planning on telling Vanessa about that huge teen girl crush you have on her.”

Brooke’s insides dropped about 50 metres to the ground. Was it really that obvious? No- no, it couldn’t be obvious, because her so-called crush didn’t exist. What gave Yvie the right? She was jumping to stupid conclusions and just because she and Scarlet were happy together didn’t mean that love was all around them like some fucking Wet, Wet, Wet song. Keeping her face blank, Brooke simply looked Yvie in the eyes.

“The crush that doesn’t exist? Yeah I’m telling her tomorrow, we’ve got an appointment at 4.”

“Brooke, come on. You think I don’t recognise that behaviour? You look at her like you want to protect her, whenever she makes a joke you’re the first to laugh. You care about her more than anyone else, you’re more patient with her than you are with any of us. Whenever anything goes down at work, you’re the first to make sure she’s okay. Just admit it. You’ll feel better.”

“Yvie, I know it might be hard for you to get your head round and I know you can barely see because of the fucking hearts blocking the way of your pupils…but I’m not interested in Vanessa,” Brooke scowled. For a second she regretted it. Yvie was clearly only trying to help, but what exactly was she going to do? Brooke wasn’t about to ruin things with Vanessa or ruin the atmosphere in the workplace by admitting that…admitting what? There was nothing to admit.

Smirking, Yvie stubbed out her cigarette on the wall and dropped it to the ground. “Alright, well. Keep telling yourself that. See how far it gets you.”

As she walked back inside, Brooke instead tipped her head back against the cold, damp bricks and exhaled shakily. She was doing fine on her own, she didn’t need anyone, but the more Brooke thought about it the more she considered the differences between need and want. Every thought she had seemed to be followed up by Yvie’s voice, now warped and mocking in her head. Keep telling yourself that. Tearing a hand through her hair Brooke looked up to the dark sky, feeling momentarily like she wanted to pray.

Instead, she turned and walked back inside the bar.

Returning to her seat, she found the girls all laughing uproariously at something Silky had said. She was still talking, all excited and hyped up, and even though she commanded the attention of everyone at the table Brooke still found her eyes being drawn to Vanessa, Yvie’s words playing in her mind. She was smiling at Silky; the glitter dusted onto her cheekbones, the shine of her hair, and the gloss on her lips catching the light. She looked happy and carefree and gorgeous. Just then, Vanessa’s gaze was on her, and Brooke was caught having been looking at her first. Snapping her gaze to the floor, Brooke felt around the table for her vodka and coke and gripped it with one white-knuckled hand. Feeling her heart race inside her chest and wiping the sweat away from one hand on her leggings, two things became clearer to Brooke than ever before.

Yvie was right, and she was completely and utterly fucked.

[ramblingshit]

The Uninvited - 1944 - 5/10

long ass exposition voice over - beautiful ominous scenery, craggy cliffs, white water frothing against dark rocks,

tall large bricked house with vines climbing up the walls, doorways twice the height of people; smart funny concise script with light-hearted orchestral music to match, large columns, clear crystal chandeliers, large curve staircase; that one locked door; open fire by the bath; brother and sister couple who act authentically like siblings, loving and reassuring and taking care of each other ; large open white and naturally lit house on the edge of a dangerous cliff which has a dead tree at its edge.the creepy house always has an old name. house rumoured to be haunted  but the idea is shrugged off and laughed at. damn nice transitions and cuts. creepy and ugly room cold and damp and fills them with doubt and depressive thoughts and flowers wilt. there's always a dog barking at things. being black and white they have an awesome eye for contrast and tone. acting is eyyyyyy. okay they tried to edit together two parts of the same conversation and it was ew. ohh theres another one. omg this shit is so good - the little bits and pieces making the characters real and relateable and funny. suddenly flickering candles. the sound of a woman's heartbroken crying echoing around the house, coming from nowhere but sounding from everywhere and it stops at dawn. doors closing by themselves. ol mate jumped and hid under his sheets lolol. men interrupting girls and calling them delicate and needing to calm themselves. damn refusing ol mate to see his grandaughter - this doesn't mean we are of equal social standing like lol what an ass - 'Great Scott!!' secret meetings with the granddaughter ooohwerrooooh. ol mates all lovey with this 20 year old lass. 'golly!' using these terms completely unironically amazing. 'they're hardly our sort'. ol ol mate knows the house is haunted but won't admit it. 'go to your room!' 'don't be impertinent'.  vases taller than a person and flowers and bouquet just as tall. fuck that dress is gorgeous but i don't trust this granddaughter she was so mad at the start looked like she had decided on something and now all of the sudden she's buddy buddy? yeaaaaaah alriiiightt. this chicks twenty what twenty year old is actually this mature and wellspoken. he just stares smilingly at her enamoured with just listening and watching her talk. man at the piano, beautiful young girl listening to him, three candles in a candlestick on the piano. he literally seems old enough to be her dad, but he's goofy and excitable oooooh the candles went down and he started being sad and she noticed and wasn't affected? she's fleeing!! sprinting out to THE CLIFF IN HER WHITE DRESS HOLY SHIT he caught her at the last moment she didn't even realise she was doing it - right at the place where her mother fell by the dead tree, and now they make jokes and are singing to lighten the mood NEVERMIND a lady is SCREAAAAMING oh shit it was Lizzie - the studio is fucked up making people depressed and there was a creepy mist or some shit by the door now she says it was the ghost of a woman - gets one fright and lizzie is like lmao bye im not staying here - fkn smart lady - Stella is MIA. nope she's collapsed, is she dead 'stella, darling' she looks so dramatic in her long white dress - bish faints and they're spoonfeeding her soup and keeping her bedridden and not wanting to risk moving her. oooHoooo the great scary tale of the house comes out, everyones dying off in the house with their secrets, there's the strange smell of flowersss and lightss creepin about stellas gone out the window lol oh no she's creeping out behing the curtains. its very dark. she's convinced her mother is haunting the house, she sounds and looks mad lmao i still do not trust this bitch. he's declaring his love and she's tryna talk about her mother's ghost and how she wants to go to the house and he's like nah you're never getting back imma tear it down - 'i hate you for that!' 'oh stella' an they kiss??? ah no he kisses her and she's like fuck off and runs away and he's actually CONFUSED? moron lolol out here expecting her to want to marry him and him be her life and she's out here with her own problems wanting to go and do things and see her mum like mate stoppp they've known each other like a few weeks and he's out here tryna tell her what she can and can't do who he think he be?? she's not listening to me - she's on the edge of a mental collapse! ohhhh the faked seance is realllll damn sonnn oh wtf she's possessed the doctors all for it what a mate she's speaking in a language she doesn't knowwww ey mate spanish and the scent is back. is she maybe the spanish lady's baby and not the woman she thought? ooooooh spooky mist they're trapped in the dark cold room oh yikes its got a scary face grandad just showed up lmao she's spending half the movie in bed and the granddad is a fkn asshole stupid ass prick - he killed his daughter maybs? whos miss holloway all fancy n shit shit they drugged stella what this bitch what are these two up to. they're kidnapping her? dumping her off at holloways' house - she has secretsss; was friends with stella's mum. the mystery in this is really good and interesting. oh fuck miss holloway was a trained nurse and watched mary mereidith go over the cliff (stella's mum) they mentioned blonde hair, and holloway and stella have dark hair - important?? i'm getting very into this lolol. "Why are you whispering?" "Why are you?" the music is awesome to express thoughts and actions. an eccentric older lady with bows and scarves and a basket full of eggs "miss bird' i love her immediately wait its a basket of stones. i love her. holloway loves the stones and miss bird cute. she's a psychologist? a very successful psychologist with a big beautiful house and she's definitely a fucking lesbian mate she loves mary meredith. they hate spanish women in these movies. oh shit the spanish lady was gonna yeet the baby stella over the cliff that's hilarious. certainly don't trust this chicka either. she literally has an enormous picture of mary in her office between two bouquets of flowers taller than they are. she started a sentence and caught herself - secretssssss. god their dresses are next level gorgeous. so holloways house is actually an asylum and she's trapped. holloway hates stella and stella confronted her about it and she didn't deny it - she's glad stella's chucked in. wtf lady went to the doctor cause she thought her baby was delirious cause he was laughing lolol what the actual fuck it's a baby. miss holloway murdered carmel!!! they are so chill about it. shit's pretty dull. the book just turned pages - they smell the flowers again. what IS she up to - fkn holloway's eyes are in shadow while stella's face is completely brightened. wtf is she UP TO. damn that door is gorgeous - arched and a head an a half and with six squares of incredible carvings in the wood. she's too happy about all this. about sending stella to the house - to the 'cliff and the rocks below the cliff! that's where mary went, that's where she died' she's cray cray. 'i've done what she wanted at last - haven't i mary, it's all straight now.' mate how did she go from being suss to being mental. they didn't lock their front door??? 'i'll be alright now - i'll be with my friends! :)' okay she's not evil? she's actually excited and cute about being allowed to stay in the house. she's all alone - whtfuck there's a man snoring/groaning? someone calling her name - in the studio! its gdad. whats he doin here. her voice is so musical and soft and smooth and breathy - these women man. teh ghost is pretty cool - i  think the sight of it just killed him tho. oh shit ahaha she screm and flee. toward the cliff!!!! over she go!!!!!a a lot of people saying 'darling'. he's so enamoured with her and she doesn't give a shit ahahah. now she thinks shes cray- nevermind the smell is back and the doors just flung open. broke her arm twice in a year? CARMEL HAD A BABY TOO. SHE's for SURE carmel's baby!!! I told you!!! stellas chill with it. carmel's laughing instead of crying and then she's all good the ghost has been freed ---- nevermind. Rick's seen something and shut the door - mary meredith is cray?? she has icy rage - she wants Stella! creepy gaunt face with white scarf flappin in wind and no body or legs - she was gonna kill the kid if she couldn't have it herself. rick's being mean to the angry ghost. lol he threw lit candlestick at her? ew wtf the sister is getting with the old barely a character doctor? and now he's expecting yet again that stella is all for marrying him jfc. alright its over start was much better than end yikes.

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 119 - Picture books & Ass Grabbing

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…. Look out for friendship and maybe something more…

MASTERLIST

Chapter 119 - Picture books & Ass Grabbing

[Negan realises that Mia and Blake are indeed a popular duo at the Sanctaury...but the dark-haired Saviour eventually manages to find some alone time with the pair.]

Everyone had been excited to see Mia back at the Sanctuary.

Everywhere Negan seemed to fucking turn that day, there they were, the dining hall, down at the marketplace, the goddamn hallways, workers and lieutenants alike, cooing at the kid and talking to Blake like she was their everything.

It was fucking obvious to him now that Peaches was revered in this place. Not in the way he was. When his men and women spoke to him, it was with fear and respect in their voices.

But to Peaches….they showed utter love and devotion. Even workers he had never even seen before, came crawling out of the woodwork the moment they caught sight of her, coming to say hello.

Negan had kept his distance at first, observing the way these people laughed and joked with her, touching her arm warmly as she chatted back to them completely lighting up every room she was in.

And the kid didn't do too badly either, acting as shy as she had been when she had first arrived at this fucking place to begin with, before realising that these people, unlike those dead pricks outside, were not here to do her any harm.

Negan had even caught the baby girl standing up on the benches in the dining hall at lunchtime, pointing at food she liked on peoples trays so fucking charmingly in-fact, that the poor-fuckin' sons of bitches were pushovers enough that they would quickly laugh and offer Mia whatever she wanted.

Negan admired that in her immensely, as he had left the room wordlessly, chuckling to himself as he had ran a hand over his bearded chin, swinging Lucille up onto his leather-clad shoulder as he went.

But as great as Blake and the kid being popular was, Negan had found himself getting kinda ansty and bored by mid-afternoon at the lack of attention he himself was getting from his favourite girl.

Usually he would have found Blake at least once today, placed her in a compromising position or two, the two of them barely able to keep their hands off of each other for long, and screwed her brains out already.

But with the kid now a permanent feature here in their lives, this enjoyable task was proving a little harder than Negan first had realised.

Even speaking to Blake today had proved to be tough enough, just about getting the chance to exchange a few teasing words with the blonde woman, before Mia had complained that she needed to go to the bathroom for the hundredth time.

And, waving his hands of all responsibility in that area, Negan had sloped off in a huff, as Blake and Mia had skipped away to do what ladies normally fuckin' did in bathrooms.

HIS  fuckin' bathroom again, no doubt!

And so it was late afternoon by the time the unusually cheerful and buzzing atmosphere of the Sanctuary had died down to a mere simmer, and Negan, pacing the long quiet hallways in search of the two women, had finally heard their voices, floating low and quiet down the echoing corridors of the drafty factory building.

Negan gave a wide grin to himself as he approached the door ahead of him now, swinging Lucille from his hand a little and bowing his head as he listened.

"And do you know what animal that is?" came the voice of Blake gently, in a tone contrasting the teasing one she usually reserved for speaking to him with.

There was small pause before the voice of Mia was heard.

"Tha..tha…I know tha is…" she said excitedly, sounding like she was wriggling about a little. "Tha donk! Tha donk!"

Negan heard Blake let out a small laugh.

"Yeah that's right, that's a donke-"

But Blake wasn't able to get through her entire sentence before Mia cut across her loudly.

"What tha won? I laik tha won!" she said as Negan took a couple of silent steps forward and peered around the doorway, his chocolate eyes finally settling on the pair of them.

The two ladies were sat in the library, both huddled together on the dusty floor with a large book propped open on Blake's lap, as Mia leaned over her, pointing with chubby little digits at whatever was in the large white book.

"That's a penguin," said Blake quietly, neither of the pair noticing Negan's presence in the doorway yet, as Mia fawned over the image in the book splayed out in front of her. "They like to live where it's very, very cold."

Mia gave a delighted squeal at this, peering at the page with great interest.

"Ca' we go see pengwen?" she asked placing her pudgy little hand to Blake's shoulder before clambering onto her lap.

But it was at this, that he saw Blake's eyes wash with a sort of sadness, that broke his heart to see.

Negan of course knew that it would be likely that Mia would never get to see a penguin in her lifetime.

Not only was travel near to impossible these days but the zoos were all but ruined, and the likelihood that there were even any penguins left on this continent was near unmanageable.

"Perhaps…someday…" Blake murmured in a quiet voice, as Mia gave a sudden yawn, rubbing at her tired eyes with her little fists.

It had obviously been a long day for her….for both of them in fact, judging by the way Blake's eyes blinked slowly as she let out a small puff of air.

But it was then that Negan, leaning in, causeda floorboard to creak beneath his boots, drawing both of the women's eyes to look his way, finally noticing his presence.

Blake offered him a warm, coy smile, that made him feel like he truly belonged here, warm and happy with her right beside him.

"Hey stranger," she purred out gently, wrinkling her nose as Mia scrambled to her bandy little legs, running towards him suddenly on small sock-covered feet.

"It Eggy!" she said in a slurred little voice, making grabby hands at him with her sticky hands. "Eggy, we gon' shee pengwen!"

Negan readjusting his grip on Lucille and rolling his eyes a little, obliged the toddler almost immediately, bending down and lifting her up into his arms with a stiff groan.

"That so?" the dark-haired man commented. "You plannin' on takin' a trip on those goddamn tiny legs of yours, beansprout? You bustin' outta this place? Huh?"

And with that, Negan made a grab for her tiny sock-covered foot, making the teeny girl squeal with delight.

"Noh Eggy, don' do tha!" she giggled, pawing at his leather-clad chest, her chubby fingers grasping hold of his zipper.

But Negan didn't relent, chuckling as he pressed his face close to hers, grazing his stubbly chin across her pudgy cheek.

"Noh Eggy tha tickuls!" she cried out, wriggling from his grasp and prising herself from him once more. until Negan was forced to set her down, watching as the laughing baby girl ran back toward Blake, who had gotten to her feet, large picture book tucked under her arm.

But the caramel-blonde woman looked a little strained now, giving a frown as she placed a hand to her head, wincing slightly and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"You alright, Peaches?" Negan asked her almost instantly, standing up straight and staring over at the woman he loved, a dark and concerned look passing over his long features.

But she blinked a couple of times, offering him a flash of a smile.

"Yeah…I'm fine…just feeling a bit light headed is all…" she muttered.

Negan's gaze lingered on her for a long moment, hearing the lie in her voice, but he played it cool, clenching his jaw tightly, but carrying on as though nothing had happened.

"Well perhaps you're runnin' on empty, Darlin'," he growled, as Mia clutched Blake's hand with her tiny paw, before peering up at the dark-haired man. "It's a good fuckin' job I've arranged for some dinner to be brought up to my room then isn't it?"

At his words, Blake's stared up into his face, smiling at him warmly.

Fuck, it was good to be back with her here again….knowing that yesterday he could have lost her for good.

He was enamoured by her, this hurricane, who had appeared in his life, changing it for the better.

He was different man around her. Softer, more sympathetic….to them at least!

And Negan couldn't help but grin goofily as she and Mia slid past him hand in hand, heading out the door.

"Hmmm, it's about time we got room service, isn't it Mia?" the blonde woman uttered in a sarcastic tone, her eyes sparkling gleefully as she teased him. "You gonna serve it up on a silver platter too?"

But Negan gave a chuckle as he ran his tongue over his lips, eyeing her with awe.

And before Blake could let out another smart-mouthed comment, Negan's hand had clamped around Blake's jean-clad ass, giving it a hard and needy squeeze.

The blonde woman instantly stopped in her tracks abruptly, giving a sudden squeak and causing Mia to stare up at the pair in fright, as Negan leaned his lips in towards Blake's ear.

"Now baby, you have gotta stop with that damn attitude of yours…." he growled in a wolf-like manner, giving another low and throaty chuckle. "Because you're gonna make Daddy wanna eat something' else completely, Peaches…"

But he almost immediately caught Blake narrow her green eyes toward him, as she slowly looked his way.

She had obviously not been expecting this possessive act from him. But the dark-haired Saviour should have known better than to presume Blake would just let something like that, slide that easily.

"Well maybe, if Daddy delivers like he promised on dinner…" she purred in a delicious voice, taking this opportunity to press her cheek to his stubbly one, her lips finding his ear now, causing Negan's mouth to curve up into a wide grin. "Then maybe he can get what he wants for dessert."

But what Negan didn't notice was Blake's hand snake around his waist.

And it wasn't until Negan feet the short sharp slap of the large, hard-bound picture book colliding with his ass, did he raise both his dark eyebrows to the heavens in utter surprise, gazing at Blake as she smirked, pulling away from him.

"But I guess we'll have to see…." she murmured airily, strutting away and heading out into the hallway ahead of Negan, as Mia still clutching onto her hand tightly, peering up at Blake with great interest, wondering what she was missing.

And Negan was, for the first time in a long, long time, rendered utterly speechless….

….shaking his head in wonderment, and letting his chin drop to his collarbone as he let out a small laugh….

…before swinging Lucille back up onto his shoulder once more, and following his two favourite girls out of the door, and back up towards his room.

More in love with the blonde woman now, than he had ever been before.

Credit belongs to the gif owners.

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[realitykeeper]

the path to tomorrow

01 ｜ Dracula

an mha / bnha fanfiction

Quirkless: a very uncommon term in today’s world. 80% of the population lived with these abilities deemed quirks, a word riddled with disgusting impurity. They had taught Asuka this, trained her to one day destroy quirks and lead them on the path to tomorrow.

Asuka was quirkless, and to exist without a quirk was to be a freak. Asuka was a freak.

And they couldn’t have been more proud.

　　Asuka numbly steps through the Yūei entryway, the larger-than-life school casting a shadow over her already dark mood. She glares at the shiny windows, glares at the chattering students, glares at the perfect trees and perfect sky and perfect concrete.

　　It'd been easy to pass the exam — disgustingly so in Asuka's judgement. She'd expected better from the illustrious Yūei High. And now she was here, something she wasn't pleased about. Just being in the presence of these wannabe heroes sets a crawling itch under her skin, one she needs to claw out and string up to dry as the blood stains—

　　Asuka pins her gaze on cracks in the wall, swears they crack even more under her angry stare.

　　She focuses on her plan, on her purpose. Asuka has to learn anything and everything about her future enemies. She has to examine this generation and their quirks; the powerhouses and the dark horses. Any quirk used well was dangerous, a threat she had to get rid of, plucking the bud before it bloomed.

　　Asuka focuses on keeping her thrashing blood at a normal rate. The girl can hear her over-stimulated veins working in her ears, the sound jostling her composure and releasing images of the surrounding students covered in blood.

　　Someone mimics the pounding, echoing off the walls with equal anger and causing the students to part like the red sea.

　　She no longer holds back her thoughts as Asuka's crimson eyes stare at a marching Bakugo Katsuki. Images of digging out his sweat glands with her scalpel filling her mind, delighted at the thought of destroying the disgusting quirk he was so enamoured by.

　　She giggles. And her red eyes meet equally red, equally angry, eyes.

　　"What the fuck are you giggling at!?"

　　Asuka tilts her head, her black hair spilling over her pale face, a tantamount image to her quaking anger against her calm facade. They hold each other's eyes; red against red, Asuka's still with curiosity and Katsuki's twitching with irritation.

　　Katsuki's lack of patience becomes clear to the girl immediately. "Well!? What the fuck, you damn Dracula!?"

　　The ravenette closes her eyes, sifting through the images in her mind that call to her– plead for her to make them a reality. She hums softly and deflates, then continues walking, ignoring the boy's outbursts and taunts. Asuka assumes Katsuki will run after her and try to start a fight — a fight that she will gladly accept — but when she finds nothing thrown her way, she considers that she may have judged him incorrectly—

　　An explosion to her left proves Asuka's first theory correct.

　　"Who the fuck do you think you are!? I won't let you run away!"

　　The ravenette stares blankly in front of her, grip tightening around her bag strap as Katsuki stomps towards her. She feels his breath on the back of her shirt, hotter and a lot closer than it should be.

　　The images rush to her. A blinding slideshow of bone white and blood red and she has to stop herself from slicing Katsuki's throat and revelling in the way his life essence will cascade down his broad and, sadly, unmarked throat.

　　"Heh, not so damn smart now hey, Dracula," Katsuki jeers, all gritted teeth and hot breath.

　　She can feel his smirk burning a hole into the back of her skull, she can practically see and smell the burning charcoal camouflaged in her black hair. Her nails dig into her palm and it tethers her to the disgustingly stark and blood free corridors. She feels eyes everywhere but knows none of the surrounding students are paying any mind to her losing her goddamn mind.

　　She pivots on her heels and meets his eyes again. A deep breath through her nose sends her head spinning, and she realises she hadn't been breathing and the smell of disinfectant and perfume — and is that sweat? — was making her nauseous. Asuka takes another breath before speaking. "If I'm Dracula, then you're Explodo-Boy." The girl hears the blond choke at the name but she's already continuing. "Also, did you forget to wash this morning? You reek of sweat."

　　The silence that appears seems like a pause in time and Asuka doesn't know whether or not she should feel relieved that she can hear the chattering of students instead of her own thoughts. Then the growl that escapes vice-like teeth snaps them back in time, makes Asuka focus on the veins trying to escape Katsuki's red neck, makes her think of the delicious things she can do to that neck. And Asuka is back at square one, trying to black out the red, but it was so hard when Katsuki's fury filled crimson met hers.

　　"You bitch... It's a part of my quirk... Just 'cause you're fuckin' older doesn't mean you get to treat me like shit!"

　　Asuka blinks, genuine confusion escaping from her dark mind and replacing the slight amount of intelligence she held. "Older? But I'm– I'm the same age as you..."

　　Katsuki stills, his gaze shifting from Asuka's eyes to the top of her forehead and she realises with a start she's been looking down at the boy this entire time, her height standing over his. It makes a genuine giggle rise from her, a mixture of amusement and cocky glee somehow squirming around her anger.

　　But then Katsuki's entire face fills with that exquisite red and that excited anger is back with a vengeance. The buried childlike side of her likens him to a tomato with blond vines — an amusing sight, truly — smoke wafting from his obnoxiously large hands as splutters of broken speech spill from his forever gritted teeth. "Y-you... You fuckin'–!"

　　Asuka breathes, holds onto that amusement and drowns her anger in it and sighs as the images sink into a murky depth. "You effing Dracula, right?"

　　"What? Too good to curse?" Katsuki sneers, tilting his head back as if to glare down at her, his blazing crimson trying to stoke her dwindling red.

　　The girl smirks with dead eyes, her voice silk on the tense air. "Hardly."

　　Katsuki narrows his eyes at Asuka's retreating form. He notices the lack of swaying in her stride, her entire figure keeping its straight posture. The ravenette looks unnatural amongst the carefree composure's of the surrounding teens, deftly swerving around the babbling groups without them batting an eye as if they don't notice her.

　　The blond squeezes his lips together into a grimace. He doesn't like her. She's all glowing skin and sparkling teeth and malicious intent. It oozes out her entire being like invisible tar, all-encompassing and suffocating. He can't help but to compare her to a snake with its shiny scales camouflaging its danger.

　　He considers that maybe Dracula wasn't the right name to give her. But it's stuck now, and Katsuki wouldn't allow himself to look like a fucking idiot because of a damn nickname.

　　The blond lets her walk off with that lifeless smirk still plastered on her pale face. He didn't like the way she makes his fight-or-flight response jump at her every word, it made him want to blast at her face and run.

　　And Katsuki doesn't like running.

　　Katsuki doesn't like Asuka.

　　The muted clacking of Asuka's shoes becomes her clock against the internal concert of screaming thoughts. She holds onto it with a vice-like grip, allows it to shackle her to reality as she tries to busy herself in the free time she begins to dread.

　　35... 36...

　　The girl had occupied her mind by memorising all the many, many, hallways in Yūei's vast building and the routes to all her classrooms. Next she planned the best escape routes for each moment in her daily schedule in-case she was ever caught — not that she believes that will happen.

　　49... 50...

　　Despite her barely there sanity, Asuka feels confident she knows the school's layout as she meanders to her homeroom, her hold on the clack-clacking becoming desperate without a distraction.

　　60... And 1—

　　A single step into her classroom and she walks into someone, her height not saving her nose from the paralysing sting of knocking into someone's head straight on.

　　Asuka curses and holds her nose as her eyes close instinctively, her clock and thoughts hiding behind the haze of pain that spreads through her whole face, as nose injuries disgustingly do. She silently damns the culprit — why the hell did they stand in the door!?

　　"I knew you fucking cursed, Dracula."

　　Asuka stills, narrowing her eyes against the pain. The tops of her hands becoming the new subject of her glare. The thoughts steamroll back and if Asuka thought the god's hated her before, oh she was damn sure of it now. That didn't stop the girl from hoping and praying. There was no way she was in Katsuki's class, no way—

　　And there he is, sitting at a desk she assumes is now his, his feet crossed on said desk in a way that can only spell arrogance with that violent grin on his face.

　　"And I'm sure my response was 'hardly', or are your ears numb from all those explosions," Asuka drawls, finally pulling her hand away from her face. She straightens herself to her full height and pulls a blank stare onto her face as she steps towards his desk.

　　Her indifference pushes one of Katsuki's many, always pressed, buttons. "You—!" He plants his feet on the floor, ready to stand and start round two—

　　"Ah! That curly hair!"

　　Katsuki and Asuka blink a brief show of flashing red, then they both turn their gazes to the voice. A short girl stands where Asuka was just before, peppy and bright as she looks at the nose-knocker in happiness.

　　Uraraka Ochako, Asuka is sure that's the girl's name, she had an interesting gravity nullifying quirk. Asuka has to admit she felt disgustingly impressed.

　　"The plain-looking boy!" Ochako gushes, babbling on about how he got in and other things Asuka tunes out. She focuses more on the 'plain-looking boy' instead, or as she has dubbed him, Nose-Knocker.

　　Midoriya Izuku, a real pain in the ass already. He'd gotten quite a few glares during the exam briefing for being a muttering mess, but those glares quickly grew to praises after the exam. When Asuka arrived at the Academy's entrance on her way out, all she heard was his name and about his amazing quirk! It disgusted her, especially so when she couldn't find any information on his quirk whatsoever! It's like he never recorded it, which is illegal!

　　Not that the girl ever cared about things being illegal, but that wasn't the point.

　　"If you're here to socialise, then get out."

　　Asuka feels her already shot nerves run from each other and she almost jumps out of her own skin at the sudden voice. The girl turns to stare at the perpetrator, presenting a blank face, pushing down the glare that was begging to come up, and the images that go with it.

　　And oh she was glad she didn't glare. Asuka may not care about much, but even she understood glaring at your homeroom teacher on the first day wasn't a good idea, especially when he's the pro-hero Eraserhead.

　　Though, the sleeping bag he cocooned himself in on the floor wasn't doing him any favours, intimidation wise.

　　Asuka's judgemental thoughts immediately shut up when Aizawa stands up and looms over her as the girl realises that her teacher is taller. She growls a subdued, "Disgusting."

　　"It took eight seconds for you to quiet down," He drawls, sliding out of his cocoon. "Time is a precious resource. You lot aren't very rational, are you?"

　　Asuka slouches, pinning her eyes to her shoes. If she wasn't on the receiving end of Aizawa's comments, she was sure she'd get along with him.

　　"I am your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota. Pleased to meet you." He gives no time for introductions as he shoves a gym uniform in Izuku's direction. "Quickly now. Change into your gym clothes and head out onto the grounds."

　　Everyone quickly works up a fuss as Aizawa explains what they were doing: A test of everyone's quirks. Asuka would admit it was a smart move on their teacher's part if it didn't disgust her as much as it did — of course it was all about quirks!

　　Ochako quickly speaks up, "What about the entrance ceremony?! Or guidance sessions?!" She bunches her hands to her chest and her eyes stare wide and glittering.

　　Asuka scoffs, real cute.

　　Aizawa cuts off her cute act just as quickly. "No time to waste on that stuff if you want to become heroes. Yūei is known for its 'freestyle' educational system." — He gives the class a sideways glance — "That applies to us teachers as well."

　　He lists off the standard gym tests they all would have done in middle school and the supposed "ridiculous" banning of their quirks in said tests, and as he keeps talking Asuka feels herself sink into a pit. She can practically see her classmates standing at the edge, staring down and jeering as she drowns in the dark earth. Too much dirt, too much dust!

　　Asuka grits her teeth and focuses on the shuttering sound the action makes. She was so different from them all. The girl hadn't done the tests since she was 'home-schooled' and she didn't have a disgusting quirk. She expected to feel ostracised from the other students, she knew Yūei hasn't prepared themselves for their first quirkless student, but she didn't realise how disgusting that would make her feel — she wasn't the disgusting one, they were!

　　She didn't know whether to ask if she would receive different treatment. She desperately hoped the answer was no. Just because she felt different didn't mean she wanted to be treated different, she didn't want to feel weak.

　　Asuka would prove quirks weren't the be-all and end-all.

　　"Bakugo. How far could you throw in middle school?" — right, the test, focus on the test.

　　Asuka snickers for show as Katsuki instantly rattles off 'sixty-seven metres' not surprised he has that information stored at the forefront of his mind.

　　Aizawa throws a ball to Katsuki. "Great," he drawls, "Now try it with your quirk. Do whatever you need to, just don't leave the circle."

　　Katsuki keeps Aizawa's gaze for a moment, then stretches his arms with a shrug, looking pleased to show off in pure Explodo-Boy flashy style. He gives a savage grin at Aizawa's prompt and stands ready to throw.

　　His throw is as violent as him. Vicious as a yelled "Die!" rips from him. Asuka has to admit the throw was impressive as it breaks the sound barrier and causes the surrounding air to whip around them. She ignores the chatters of awe around her with rolled eyes.

　　A device in Aizawa's hand beeps and the class turn to him expectantly. "It's important for us to know our limits. That's the first rational step to figuring out what kind of heroes you'll be."

　　He turns the device to them, a daunting '705.2m' glaring at them.

　　Asuka huffs as everyone squeaks about how awesome this will be. Muttering a quiet "Disgusting," to herself.

　　"Awesome... You say?"

　　Everyone freezes at their teacher's voice, holding their breaths at his tone. Asuka stands still. She knew that tone, had heard it plenty of times when she treated her training as a game. They were about to be in a world of trouble.

　　And Asuka knows she's right when suddenly Aizawa's presence alone looms over them more than his height. "You're hoping to become heroes after three years here... And you think it'll be all fun and games?"

　　There's silence as everyone is unsure how to respond. But he never gave them the chance.

　　"Right." Aizawa starts, a terrifying tone of finality in his voice. "The one with the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless... And be expelled."

　　Asuka hears the yelling of her classmates, but she can't make out what they're saying. It all strings together a messy consonance she can't make sense of. Asuka can only hear the voice of reason in the back of her head that told her she was quirkless, and there was no way she'd be able to beat their scores. She clenches her fists, stuck between asking for special consideration and flipping off the voice.

　　There was too many noises, too many thoughts, too many reasons to plead weak or stay strong. It was too much! — please make it stop!

　　Aizawa's depraved smile cuts through their yelling and sends them reeling. "Your fates are in our hands."

　　Asuka can hear her instructors demanding she takes the weak route, whispering in her ear to do the utmost basics to get through all this, ask for as much help as possible, lower their guards until she gets what she wants. She can feel their disapproving glares at her want to prove herself, shivers as it simmers into her being like a branding iron. It causes a wire to tie around her gut and squeeze until all she wants to do is plead and yell and submit —make it stop!

　　"Welcome. This is the hero course at Yūei High!"

　　Asuka steels herself. Blocks out the surrounding noise, the eyes and the hands on her skin. Stares at the sun until her eyes water to blind out the images in her mind — MAKE IT STOP!

　　Asuka has to choose quickly.

　　Her pride or her purpose.

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[theofficialcunt]

Simplicité - Chapter 4

Short chapter this time! Happy Saturday y'all! Special thanks to @veronicasanders for being my new beta for this story and helping me make this story 50303178283x better. Clap for that hooker! I hope you enjoy, and I’m gonna try and get back on schedule (Thursdays for those who don’t know). Have a great weekend everyone. ❤️

She walked out of her bedroom, grabbing a wine glass from the kitchen cabinet and poured herself a full glass of white wine. She patted her box of wine lovingly; it wasn’t the most spectacular wine in the world - but fuck she drank so much of it she had to buy the cheap $10 boxes so she constantly had it on tap.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. Bianca raised an eyebrow at the text message before taking a big gulp out of her glass.

Courtney Act: Do you have time to talk tonight?

“Boxed wine? You’re a 40 year old trapped in a 25 year old’s body.” Adore snorted, walking out of her room curiously in a pair of sweats from her high school and an old concert t shirt.

Bianca smirked, still feeling weird about what had happened in the dressing room between the two of them. She had never had that sort of connection with anyone before. Love was a business transaction in her mind. You fuck, you kiss, and sometimes you pay for dinner. There were no overwhelming feelings clouding her judgement. She usually spotted someone attractive, swallowed her pride, and made it a goal to make them hers.

But there was something different with Adore. Something that said their relationship wasn’t fully professional. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. Fuck, and she was feeling this way on only the first week of knowing her.

“When you begin working for real, you’ll understand why I have this crap on tap.” Bianca joked, taking a big swig of her drink.

Courtney Act: Can I come over at 8?

“Who’s that?” Adore asked curiously.

Bianca groaned, looking between Adore and her phone. The last person she wanted to deal with right now was Courtney, especially with how much of a raging cunt she had been to Adore. She really didn’t know what the blonde wanted to talk to her about, but reluctantly she responded.

Bianca : SURE! NO HARASSING MY ASSISTANT WHILE YOU’RE HERE!

“Courtney’s coming over.” Bianca started. “So, if you wanna avoid her like the plague - which I’m sure you do; you can go in your room and lock the door. I’ll get you when she’s gone.”

“Ugh. Can’t she just see you tomorrow?” Adore sighed. She had enough of Courtney for the day. She honestly didn’t know how she was going to work with someone who blatantly hated her as much as she did.

“She’s really not that bad.” Bianca muttered. “Just a bit headstrong.”

“Well, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Adore said, starting to walk away. “Wait. I came over here to ask you something.” Adore tapped her finger on her lips as she tried to remember. “Oh! Do you have Farrah’s number by chance?”

Bianca narrowed her eyes at her, before scrolling through her phone locating the number. She hastily texted the contact information to Adore, setting her phone down dramatically on the quartz countertop.

“Thanks!” Adore exclaimed as she skipped happily to her room and shut the door.

Bianca drained the remainder of her glass and immediately refilled it.

It was going to be a long night.

—————–

When the doorbell sounded, Bianca groaned as she dragged herself out of her bed and to the front door.

“I thought it was just you coming?” Bianca asked incredulously as Courtney and Bob pushed past her into her living room.

“That’s clearly code for, why the fuck are you here?” Bob smirked.

“Why the fuck ARE you here?” Bianca questioned, raising an eyebrow. She loved Bob to death, but Courtney usually didn’t team up with Bob unless…

“Bitch. You need an intervention. Where’s Adore?” Bob asked peering around the corner.

“In her room, avoiding you buffoons.”

“Smart girl.” Courtney commented, taking Bianca’s wine glass and sipping from it.

“Hey! If you guys are going to force me into an awkward intervention at least give me my goddamn wine.” Bianca scowled, snatching the wine glass. She led the way to her room, Courtney closing the door discreetly.

“Before we start, I just wanna say it’s not Adore I have the problem with. It..it’s you.” Courtney said nervously, biting her lip. Bob sat down at Bianca’s nearby vanity table, and pretended to be enamoured with her collection of makeup.

Bianca sighed, knowing damn well there was no escape from this inevitable conversation. It was a long time coming and she knew where Courtney was going with this.

“I was in a really bad place that night.” Bianca started, sitting down on the edge of her bed and crossing her legs.

“I understand that, and I was willing to forgive you but you never apologized. You never said sorry for just-”

“You were willing to forgive me?” Bianca shot back angrily. “My mom had literally just died when I came to your apartment that night. I was trying to confide in a friend-”

“Confide in a friend?” Courtney snorted. She threw her head back and laughed, letting a long cackle ring through the apartment. “Confiding in a friend is crying on their shoulder and watching ‘ Paris is Burning’ 50 times in a row. Not sucking my clit and destroying my favorite robe! Which, was custom made by the way!”

“Custom made by who bitch, Jo Ann’s?” Bianca sneered, rolling her eyes. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say to you. That happened months ago, can we just move on?”

“No, we can’t just ‘move on’,” Courtney hissed, making air quotes with her fingers “God, you’re so fucking dim sometimes Bianca! Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

“Don’t you think I had the right to be selfish that night?” Bianca argued, standing up as she looked into Courtney’s eyes. “My mom died, I was hammered, and it’s not like you were complaining when it happened.”

“You didn’t have the right to play with my feelings like that Bianca. You knew how much I liked you! Whether or not your mom had just passed, you don’t fucking do that to someone,” Courtney seethed, opening the door. “Fuck you. This was a stupid idea. I’ll just see you at work.”

Adore quickly slid from behind Bianca’s opening door to the kitchen, pretending to look in the pantry for a snack. Courtney stomped out aggressively, with her head surprisingly held high. She made eye contact with Adore for a split second before she stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Did you hear any of that?” Courtney asked curiously.

“Uh, no.” Adore lied. “I was just getting a snack.”

“Good. Well, since you’re here I might as well tell you now.” Courtney shrugged, “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you-”

“You weren’t a bitch-”

“I was.” Courtney said abruptly, cutting her off. “It had nothing to do with you though Adore. So I’m sorry. Can we be cool at work now?”

“Um, yeah sure.” Adore stammered, taken off guard. “Maybe you can teach me some of your skills. I’m pretty sure my face will never look like yours, but a girl can dream.”

Courtney laughed, “Oh girl, no one’s face will ever look like mine. But sure. I have to prep you anyway for your clients on Saturday.”

“I have clients on Saturday?” Adore asked, eyes wide.

“Yep!” Courtney exclaimed. “Anyway, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, bye.” Adore said perplexed, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry.

Well, as much as she was confused by that whole interaction - she was happy to have her on her side.

—-

Bianca tried to overhear Adore and Courtney’s conversation in the kitchen, but they were talking too low. She would just have to ask Adore later. Who knows where her and Courtney stand at this point.

“Bitch,” Bob cleared his throat before he continued. “I’m your best friend and I love you so keep that in mind when I say what I’m about to say to you.”

Bianca just shrugged, knowing that whatever Bob was about to say was probably for the best. He always kept it real with her, which she appreciated.

“You knew damn well how much Courtney liked you, and you took advantage of that. Then on top of that, you treated her like a one night stand and pretended the night didn’t even happen when you saw her at work.” Bob sighed, taking a deep breath before he continued. “ Bianca, Courtney is your fucking employee. Not just a hoe you found at a bar near Wrigley field. She’s supposed to be your best friend when I’m not around. Which is never. I’m always around.”

Bianca laughed, thinking about when Bob used to feel threatened by Courtney. My, how things change.

“And now you have doe eyes living with you, and you look at her like she’s a slab of meat. Openly. In front of Courtney!” Bob continued. “ Do you understand how fucked up this whole thing is? You’ve barely known Adore 24 hours B. Get yourself together. That is your personal fucking assistant, not your personal play toy.” Bob got up and stood by Bianca’s bed as he stared down at her.

“Honestly, I love you and I know you’ve been going through a lot. But girl, you need to keep it in your pants. You owe Courtney AND Adore an apology. That’s all I’m going to say. I’ll see myself out.” Bob sympathized, as he walked out of her room.

What a bunch of rude cunts, Bianca thought bitterly as she laid down fully on her bed. They had the fucking audacity to come to her house late at night, stage an intervention - if you could really call it that - it was more like a Courtney-attacking-her fest featuring Bob being awkward in the corner until she left.

Courtney was way out of line for organizing that fiasco. If she thought that she could get under her skin, she was sadly mistaken.

Bianca wanted to resolve things with Courtney, she really did. She just wanted Courtney to be more sympathetic to her situation. Bianca had acted recklessly, and it was her way of crying for help. She didn’t understand why Courtney couldn’t put herself in her position.

No, no. She was not going to let herself fall down the rabbit hole. She could cry and moan and ponder about this all night, it would get her no where fast. If anything, it would get her 6 cups of coffee in the morning since she had such a long day tomorrow. As far as she could tell, she did absolutely nothing wrong and Courtney was the one with the problem.

But yet, Bob’s words were still on repeat in the back of her mind as she closed her eyes to go to sleep.