#no rush Rebecca

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

I’m about 60% through Onyx Storm —

And I can’t decide if I’m surprised/confused by that, because I feel like little has actually happened or completely overwhelmed by everything that has happened; because it’s been nonstop and feels like we’re so far from the start (or more so end of Iron Flame)… yet terrified because there is no cure in sight! — Not even a failed trial… there’s just nothing. Even Quest Squad is still trying to form.

And I’m scared of where the next turn may leave me for the next 2 years waiting!!!

[magicalgirlypop]

walpurgis no kaiten being advertised as "the beginning" meaning its not the only story to continue rebellion doesn't surprise me, they cannot wrap up all of the conflict of rebellion's ending in one movie, it'll have to be spread out otherwise it'll feel rushed

[caezav]

pretty weird how the diamonds got over pinks death so quickly after accepting steven isn't pink diamond and is actually her son, which yes he has her gem but SHES DEAD– which is unless; they still believe steven is pink (unlikely but not impossible) or it was genuinely rushed like that and they couldnt show at least some sort of aftermath of grieving that pink diamond is GONE gone and whats left in place is steven

however i could also be wrong

[darkempathgirls]

Fourth Wing: Fan Casting 💕💞

A/N : some of these I agree with and some I don't. Just like everyone else I have my own cast favorites.

[raz0rvampire]

Was watching my best friend play re5 and I had a vision come to me

[knobbysocks]

Nate the Great haters are my enemies

[mangle-my-mind]

going to see stereophonic for a THIRD time

[mlgneverdies]

A slight expansion to a cross-ship I came up with and practically left to gather dust

This idiot loser twink with a heart full of music

Hooking up with not only this criminal loose cannon gremlin

But also this Tattletail-hugging psycho J-pop alt-girl

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

Dain: You're wounded. You know that, right?

Violet: And you're a memory reader.

Dain: …

Violet: Oh, were we not stating obvious facts?

[trial-run-tiefling]

V (Cyberpunk 2077) mod for Bomb Rush Cyberfunk!

Thought it would be funny to post this on Cyber Monday! I was taking a break from some personal projects and though I might revisit the BRC modding tools to take a crack at V. Really proud of how they both turned out visually, though there aren't any complicated physics elements on either of them which made it a bit easier.

Originally I was just gonna do fem V, but then I realized a lot of masc V could just use the same textures and slightly adjusted meshes from fem V.

This time around all of the themed skins are from the same franchise, since there were plenty of cyberpunk characters I could pay homage to with the color swaps.

For the Graffiti I blocked out a shape based on the C from the Cyberpunk logo, which already is basically just a sideways V, and then I swapped the colors in case you want to have both Vs in your game at the same time. I also included some tricks where one of the characters is named "V" and the other is named "V " - so they look about the same but don't conflict with each other.

As always I had fun making stickers for them, lots of text this time around, but Cyberpunk is full of logos and icons, so I was not hurting for choice on inspiration for pixel art! (Jackie's shirt was likely the hardest, trying to make the guns show up in the limited color pallet proved difficult).

Voice lines were also a bit difficult, mostly because V goes through a lot of shit and doesn't take a lot of time to celebrate or cheer, so finding phrases that sounded appropriate when doing skateboard tricks took a bit of work. Huge thanks to the cyberpunk sound database tool - wouldn't have known where to start with extracting those otherwise. Masc V's lines aren't very well documented over there, but I did discover that for most of V's voice lines, the file name includes either a "_f_" or a "_m_". So when I found a voice line I liked for one of them, most of the time I could change that tag and find the same voice line for the other, even if it wasn't documented on the sound database, so that helped a lot.

I had a lot of fun making them, so I hope y'all have fun playing with them too!

[grinchwrapsupreme]

and why did everyone want nate back so bad??? he was so shitty to them and such an asshole! and out of NOWHERE the team unanimously wants him back?? why??? and why does he "need" to go back when he himself said that he likes being a waiter?? that he's happy when he's not coaching?? when they just put so much emphasis on being happy over being successful literally the previous episode

[itsmistyeyedbi]

@serenpedac I'm so glad you liked the birthday fic! Especially that line, it took me a while to figure out how I wanted Zuri to perceive the affection she gets from her parents. Rebecca doesn't hug her in this fic but I wrote down a little something something in my attempt at an outline that shows how her hugs feel to Zuri:

There it is! Very roughly mind you - this was a quick little thing in my notes app lol, but yeah☺️

Also, just pointing something out for the sake of it: in that fic, Rebecca mostly showed affection by making direct eye contact with Zuri, evening going as far as gently tilting her head up to do so.

After Rook dies, she can barely look her in the eye on the handful of occasions where she's both in their home and actually attempts it (a rare combination). Because she no longer just sees her daughter, someone she loves and cares about - she's just seeing everything she lost. She sees her husband's face and his eyes, and the painful fact that his will never look into hers again.

[hkpika07]

*throws santa costume on gordon*

now he goes with his son all of his other kids can even be reindeers too dont worry james rudolph is the most important reindeer -trainblogging anon

Congratulations you've caused him great indignity ♡

[geddy-leesbian]

Is Any Killer Worth More Than His Crime?

With the US government denying all involvement in, and claiming to be completely unaware of, a very mysterious incident in Spain, it fell to Chris Redfield to pick through the ruins of Valdelobos and piece together what the hell happened and produce a report for the Spanish government. His conclusion? Dr. Luis Serra, found unconscious but alive at the site, was responsible. It's up to Leon to clear Luis's name and convince Chris he shouldn't spend the rest of his life rotting away in a prison cell.

[inkameswetrust]

ᰔ || 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒 [Chapter 3: I Owe You Big Time!]

Pairing(s): Beau Santiago x Jordan Porter-Morales, Beau Santiago x James Diamond

Characters: Beau Antonio Santiago, Andy Williams, Jordan Porter-Morales, George Hawk, Rebecca

Content Warnings: Pre-Established Relationship, Toxic Relationship, BL, Teen Angst, Verbal Abuse, Emotional/Physical Manipulation

Word Count: 5,510

If you are not comfortable reading about any of the themes listed in the Content Warnings, do not interact. Otherwise, please enjoy! Be sure to check out my Character Introduction Blog if you haven't yet. It'll give you some insight on the original characters that play big roles in this story. You can also read Freak Flags on AO3!

**divider by @saradika-graphics**

Hempstead High School, 4:12pm

Beau’s back hit the backstage wall from the force of Jordan’s thrust. The impact recoiled from the bottom of his spine to the top of his head, causing him to groan in pain and snap his eyes shut. Before he could even get a second to react, Jordan caged him in between his arms, his hands planting firmly at either side of the songwriter’s head and bracing against the wall like muscle and skin atop bone.

Their lips crashed together, folding and puckering with a distinct lack of harmony or order. Beau cringed from the sensation of trying to fit Jordan’s mold like a pair of mismatched puzzle pieces. He kept his eyes shut with a forceful pinch, not to ease himself into the feel of the bassist’s fierce kiss, but to avoid seeing the look on his face as he swallowed the breath straight out of his lungs. The songwriter clung to Jordan’s denim jacket to anchor him, tugging and white-knuckling the fabric to navigate the stormy seas rocking his bodyweight.

Jordan braced one hand and Beau’s hip, pulling him in close and keeping him right where he wanted him. He refused to let go or allow any room for separation. Something about his grip felt oddly possessive. The way he hooked his fingers onto one of the belt hoops of Beau’s corduroy cargo pants felt frighteningly like a trap of which the songwriter had no chance of escaping.

The look in Jordan’s eyes as he briefly pulled away for air was villainous, predatory, and eerily reminiscent of the paralyzing stare of a jungle cat. Beau was a wounded gazelle lying on its back as it stared straight into the cold, icy, unforgiving eyes of death. Atop him was a lion of immeasurable strength and courage that was seconds away from baring its teeth and tearing his feeble body to shreds, though not for the sake of survival. But, rather, for the thrill of the kill.

“Hey, could you maybe not be so rough…?” Beau squeaked uncomfortably.

“Aww, but I thought you liked this,” Jordan smirked, leaning in closer.

“Well… not exactly?” Beau turned his face to the side and shielded the lower half with the raise of his hand.

“Beau, c’mon, don’t be lame,” Jordan groaned, pulling away slowly and dropping his predatory demeanor like a metal pipe falling to a linoleum floor with a thunderous klang. “You never want to do anything fun. I thought you were gonna be cool about this.”

“I am, I’m just not a huge fan of being shoved against a wall while we’re making out,” Beau refuted.

“Okay, so you just don’t want to make out with me then,” Jordan hissed in exaggerated offense.

“I never said that—” Beau trailed off.

“Then what gives? I don’t get it!” Jordan grunted with the wave of his hands.

Exhaustion and silence overcame Beau and left him in a standstill. He was sick of walking on eggshells around Jordan and tending to his ‘needs’ like a mother to her clingy, whiny, needy baby. It was a thankless, around-the-clock job of stroking his ego and taking endless idle threats, unwarranted insults, and immeasurable selfishness. He was a prisoner to Jordan’s insolence with a life sentence and no chance of parole.

“Just…” Beau sighed, dragging his palm down his face like the trickling of rain down a gutter. “Forget it. Can we just keep going?”

“I don’t know, can we?” Jordan grumbled. “You don’t seem like you’re that into it.”

“Ugh, I do not have time for this right now…” Beau groaned behind the walls of his palms.

“What was that?” Jordan snapped.

“N-Nothing!” Beau peeped instinctively. “It was nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jordan stuffed his hands into his denim jacket pockets.

Beau fished for his phone in his back pocket and flipped it open the second it reached his face level. The digital clock left him speechless and still. His heart dropped, his voice whisked away like a leaf in the breeze, and his skin went pale. The time read 4:15pm.

“Oh no…” Beau breathed, wide-eyed and violently afraid.

“What?” Jordan cocked his brow.

“I… I gotta go!” Beau cried in a panic as he sprinted for the stage to gather his belongings. He knelt down on both knees and zipped up his guitar case with such speed and frenzy that the zipper nearly flew offstage.

“Already?” Jordan whined.

“Jordan, I’ve been in this auditorium for nearly two hours! I cannot stay here any longer!” Beau hoisted his leather rucksack bag onto one shoulder and his guitar case onto the other. “I promise I’ll text you later,” he declared in a hurry as he raced past the audience seating on his toes to the double doors, his feet barely grazing the floor with each step. The boy sprinted like a hiker running uphill; his combined inventory weighing him down like stones at his feet.

“Wait a sec—!” Beau yelped as he reached for one of the door handles and stopped himself in his tracks. He hurried back down the path in a hysteria and peeked his head past the door leading backstage. “Can I borrow your amp?”

“Seriously?” Jordan scoffed. “Fine, whatever.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Beau rejoiced, planting a quick kiss of gratitude on Jordan’s cheek. He clunked his belongings around the bassist’s torso to embrace him for the heaviest and least coordinated hug of either of their lives. “I owe you big time for this!” The songwriter declared before hooking his fingers onto the handle of the guitar amplifier and wobbling his way back up to the double doors with more to carry.

He shoved his way past the double doors and inadvertently leaned forward on one foot, rocking the boat of his balance and using the combined weight of his bags and the guitar amplifier to ground himself. Beau planted both feet firmly atop the linoleum floor like the strike of an earthquake and took off in the direction of the nearest staircase. He began lugging Jordan’s amplifier around with both hands as if to carry a boulder.

The wobbly songwriter came face-to-face with a seemingly insurmountable flight of stairs. He was almost certain that climbing to the third floor was an impossible task in his current state, but he had to try. He was in no position to give up yet. The moderately determined boy put one foot in front of the other and stomped his way up the stairs in a way that mirrored the fee-fi-fo-fum of a hefty, poorly articulated giant.

“Okay, this is a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” Beau huffed.

His progression was slow and on the cusp of nonexistence. Each step left him more and more breathless, but be pushed ahead in spite of the difficulty and managed to reach the peak of the first staircase. “Ho-kay… I made it…” Beau panted, his grip on the amplifier gradually loosening. “Halfway, at least.”

Defeat and exhaustion overcame the boy. He lowered the amplifier to the floor and slumped on the highest stair to take a seat. He leaned forward, his forearms resting atop his thighs with his knees facing opposite directions. Hope and determination had run their course, and suddenly Beau was no longer certain in himself.

“Ugh, what am I going to do?” Beau groaned as his face met his palms. “Andy’s going to kill me.”

Beau sulked into his hands without an ounce of hope to his name. What was the point? He let another golden opportunity slip through his fingers like sand all because he didn’t have the guts to stand up to Jordan. Andy had always made it sound so easy in the many warnings and scoldings he received from her, but Beau liked to believe she’d have done the same thing if she was in his shoes.

His head perked up at the familiar sound of combat boots squeaking and thudding down the stairs adjacent to him. Andy sauntered down the staircase holding a hefty stack of papers with both hands flat underneath. A glimmer of hope twinkled in Beau’s eyes as he bore witness to his savior in the flesh.

“Andy!” The relieved songwriter cried as he sprung to his feet.

“Beau?!” Andy shrieked, curling her arms to her chest and dropping every last paper she held to the floor. “Ugh, great.”

Beau scrambled to scoop up the miscellaneous papers from the floor, frantically pinching them one by one. Andy stood idly by as he cleaned up her mess more efficiently than she could in a state of growing disappointment and perplexity. There were so many things she wanted to say but not enough self control and compassion to say them calmly.

“Here,” Beau breathed, handing the stack of papers back to his novelist companion.

“Beau, what on Earth are you still doing here?” Andy inquired worriedly. “Do you have any idea what time it is??”

“Yes, and let me start by saying I messed up big time,” Beau sighed defeatedly. “I know you probably want to scream your head off at me and you can totally do that later, but right now I really need your he—”

“Are you kidding me right now? No!” Andy snapped, nearly dropping her papers again. “This is just a repeat of last year. You knew you had somewhere important to be and yet you still chose to stay here and hang out with Jordan, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—” Beau admitted.

“Unbelievable! And after I specifically told you not to? You just don’t listen!” Andy groaned in frustration, stifling the urge to burn her stack of papers with the incandescent rumbling in her voice alone. “I mean, how hard could it possibly be to tell that guy no? He makes you feel like total garbage all the time but you’re just as tightly wrapped around his finger as you were when you first met him!”

“It’s not that simple,” Beau winced.

“Why not?” Andy hissed.

“Because it just isn’t,” Beau cracked. “I don’t want to be like this, but things are a lot more complicated than just telling him no.”

“But something’s gotta give, Beau. I can’t keep cleaning up your messes and picking up the pieces when you come crumbling down,” Andy confessed exasperatedly. “I’m always the one putting you back together when Jordan breaks you down, it’s exhausting.”

“I know that,” Beau obliged weakly.

“It took months to get you out of your slump last time because you threw your chance away for a boy who never even supported your dream in the first place. In fact, he was blatantly against it!” Andy barked. “But who was with you every step of the way? Who helped get you out of your funk when Jordan couldn’t have cared less?”

“You…” Beau muttered.

“Exactly!” Andy cried. “Are you asking me to go through that again?”

Andy’s words cut deep, puncturing holes in Beau’s heart like a thumbtack to a balloon. It stung to have her lay out his shortcomings so bluntly, but Beau recognized his friend was rightfully infuriated and fed up. Andy has been his around-the-clock shoulder to cry on through every misfortune that has shoved his life off-track. He felt selfish and ashamed for constantly going to her for emotional support despite never heeding her advice. But the possibly soon-to-be defeated songwriter had no one else to turn to and would sooner beg for Andy’s help on hand and knee than give up.

“No, of course not. But I am asking you to help me make sure that doesn’t happen again,” Beau replied earnestly. “Andy, you’re my only hope of getting there on time. I know this is a huge ask, but I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t need your help.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Andy inquired impartially.

“I want you to take me to the Paramount,” Beau answered candidly. “I cannot do this without your help, so I’m begging you. Please help me.”

“You want me to drive you… to Huntington?” Andy trembled.

“Ideally, yes,” Beau blinked.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna have to drive on the highway?” Andy whined. “If anything happens to my dad’s car, he’ll never let me drive again!”

Andy mulled over the situation, weighing its severity in her mind and thinking harder than she’s ever thought before. A huge responsibility weighed on her shoulders. She was presented with scary and stressful circumstances that made her want to squirm and cower into a corner. But this conflicted novelist was Beau’s last remaining shot at achieving his dream, and as angry as she was, she couldn’t in her right mind deny him his last chance at seizing a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“What time is it?” Andy groaned.

“Right now it’s four-nineteen,” Beau replied after swiping his phone out of his pocket and flipping it open.

“Okay, if we hurry we might be able to beat traffic and make it there just in time,” Andy proposed. “Take your stuff and go wait outside while I drop these papers off with someone else.”

“Yes, thank you!” Beau rejoiced as he scooped up his belongings and sprinted for the nearest exit with renewed vigor and more hope than he knew what to do with. “You’re seriously the greatest friend ever! I owe you big time!”

“Don’t thank me just yet! Ace that audition and then we’ll talk!” Andy called out as Beau fled the building faster than she could speak. She’d massage the bridge of her nose or even bury her face in her palms with a guttural groan if her hands were free to do so. All she could do was let a sigh pass through her lips like the breeze slipping through the crack of an open window and hang her head low as she mentally braced herself for what’s to come. “The things I do for that boy…”

Long Island Expressway, 4:47pm

“Oh my god, this is ridiculous!” Beau whined in the passenger seat. “We’ve been stuck in this jam for nearly twenty minutes!”

“Whining and yelling at traffic isn’t going to make us go any faster,” Andy grumbled, fighting back the rough waters of frustration with the dam of self control.

“But we’ve barely moved an inch since the last exit,” Beau continued. “A friggin’ mobility scooter would be faster than this.”

“Well, maybe we could’ve taken a quicker route if you printed out directions beforehand,” Andy hissed.

“Why would I have done that if I wasn’t originally planning to get to the Paramount by car?” Beau griped.

“It’s called being prepared, Beau,” Andy scolded, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. “You need to learn to make backup plans in case things go awry—”

“Go!” Beau yipped with the point of his finger. “Andy, go! There’s an opening!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The lane! Get into the fast lane!”

“Absolutely not! Do you know how dangerous that is?” Andy squawked in terror. “Long Island drivers have no regard for other people’s safety and they never give you a chance to merge! The brightest turn signals in the world wouldn’t make them move for you.”

“Who said anything about using your turn signals?” Beau quirked a brow.

“This is exactly why you don’t have your driver’s license yet,” Andy lowered her head and buried her face into the steering wheel.

“Hey, there are grown adults who are way worse drivers than me!” Beau countered.

“And you’re right on track to end up just like them,” Andy raised her head slowly and shot daggers at Beau through her incandescently furious glare.

“Ugh, what does it matter? This is hopeless,” Beau slumped, cupping his face in his hands. “We’ll never make it to the Paramount at this rate.” 

“Yes we will! But if you really want to me to get into the fast lane, I’ll merge when it is safe to do so,” Andy declared.

“That’ll take ages! At least let me help you keep a lookout,” Beau insisted as he leaned over the gear shift lever to peek past Andy’s head.

“The fast lane is on the left and you’re sitting on the right. What sense does that make?” Andy swatted the antsy songwriter away like a fly buzzing through a kitchen on a sweltering summer afternoon.

“C’mon, I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“There’s a first time for everything, Beau, so you might as well try.”

“Fine…”

“Thank you.”

Andy sunk into her seat, the back of her head hitting the head rest with a cushioned thump as she dragged her open palms down her face and briefly pulled her skin down with their weight. She could feel the premature grey hairs sprouting like weeds. Time was running out and it felt as though these lanes were getting narrower by the second. The worried novelist wanted to believe there was hope for Beau’s sake, but truthfully she wasn’t too sure.

The discord of miscellaneous car horn honking filled the air at annoyingly deafening frequencies. Drivers and passengers alike shouted at those who were farther up the line than them, but the vehicles in the fast lane seemed to pass them by in insanely fast blurs. The cadencing whooshes of speed fading out of existence scared Andy and almost caused her to perspire from the anxiety. Her fingers wrapped around the leather of the steering wheel like a garrote around one’s neck at the cusp of strangulation when the sudden strike of Beau’s voice pulled her out of her head and called her to action.

“Now, Andy!” Beau cried frantically.

“What?” Andy murmured.

“Now! Go, now!” Beau warned.

“O-Okay!” Andy trembled, flooring the gas pedal out of instinct and failing to use her left signal. A rushing car behind her stopped in its tracks and exuded a fiercely deafening honk before grazing her bumper. “Oh my god, I didn’t use my turn signal!”

“Alright, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Beau cheered with the pump of his fist from the comfort of the passenger seat.

“Do not cheer for that!” Andy squeaked in distress, “You distracted me from using my turn signal!”

“But we’re moving, that’s a good thing!” Beau retorted, gesturing with his arms outstretched and his palms facing the open road.

“You cannot distract me while I’m driving! Do you have any idea how unsafe that is?”

“You made it, though. We’re fine!”

“That’s not the point!” Andy barked as she slammed her palm against the horn to punctuate her words. “Distracting a person while driving is still highly dangerous and can lead to accidents no matter how careful you think you are.”

“Relax, we’re not gonna get into an accident and your dad is not gonna kill you,” Beau assured nonchalantly.

“No, but I might kill you if you keep running your mouth,” Andy snapped, momentarily taking her focus off the road to look Beau square in the face.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Beau quivered as he shrunk his posture.

“You’d better hope and pray our exit is coming up soon because I’m about to—” Andy trailed off.

“There it is!” Beau cried as he pointed at an exit sign like a dog with its head out the window.

“W-What?” Andy trembled.

“Exit 49, it’s right there! Go!” Beau exclaimed frantically.

“Right now? There’s no room for me to merge!” Andy panicked.

“They’re not gonna move until you do!” Beau warned. “Hurry up, we’re about to miss it!”

“There’s no space, Beau, and I can’t stop with other cars behind me!” Andy refuted.

“Well, do something ‘cause we’re missing it!” Beau wailed.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Andy twisted the steering wheel to the right with every ounce of strength she possessed, cutting the vehicles off in the exit lane with a sharp turn. She shouted through the disharmonious honking and swearing from idle drivers behind her while Beau clung to his seatbelt with both hands and dug his back into his seat.

The car traveled over the patch of grass separating the exit lane from the rest of the expressway and the tires screeched as they left a trail of black on the road behind them. They kept their speed and momentum from the sharp right turn through the cloverleaf interchange until they reached Route 110. From there, Andy decelerated onto a two-lane street entering South Huntington. She was eerily quiet and wide-eyed from the stress of nearly causing an accident from taking an exit at the last possible second. Her arms quivered and the sweat from her palms coated the leather atop the steering wheel.

Beau struggled to look Andy in the eye or even glance in her direction for fear that her pent up fury may slice him in half with one wrong look. He relaxed into his seat and kept his eyes forward despite the burning urge to break the silence and say anything at all. The worried songwriter fiddled with his fingers atop his lap and picked at his bottom lip with his teeth before swallowing his pride and summoning the courage to speak.

“So… that was, uh—” Beau peeped.

“Terrifying!” Andy squeaked on the brink of tears. “That was so terrifying!”

“Yeah, that was not good,” Beau nervously picked at the folds in his pants with his thumb and index finger.

“Why in the world would you make me do that, Beau? That was the scariest and most reckless thing I’ve ever done!” Andy kept her grip on the steering wheel tight and sturdy despite everything in her starting to fall apart. “Are you okay, though? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” Beau replied lowly. “Are you?”

“N-No,” Andy breathed shakily.

“Okay,” Beau uttered.

Silence swallowed the vehicle like the flood of a hurricane seeping through the floors of a suburban home. Neither teen looked each other in the eye or spoke a word until Andy pulled over near Huntington Station. The car squeaked as the wheels ground to a halt and their bodies jostled ever so slightly before they came to a complete stop.

“Why have we stopped?” Beau inquired.

“Go ask for directions,” Andy replied bluntly.

“Why?” Beau mumbled.

“I don’t know how to get to the Paramount from here,” Andy explained monotonously. “So get out and go ask someone for directions.”

“R-Right, okay” Beau obliged, stepping out of the car and gently shutting the door as to not upset Andy any further.

Before trudging toward the station, Beau spent one last glance to gaze upon his shattered friend. He watched as she struggled to hold back tears of frustration and fear, and a pang of guilt sliced his heart like a slab of meat. The songwriter wanted nothing more than to console her the way she’d done for him countless times in the distant and not-so-distant past, but time was of the essence and he had mere minutes to reach his destination. He marched onward with a heavy heart and an uneasy brew of conflicting feelings in the pit of his stomach as he reached the nearest help desk.

“Excuse me, miss?” Beau began, waving his hand to catch the attention of a station attendant behind the shield of glass that separated her office from the outside world. “Hi, do you know how to get to the Paramount from here?”

“Yeah, it’s only a few minutes from here,” The station attendant replied. “What you wanna do is keep going down Main Street until you see a throwback diner called Munday’s. From there, take a right on New York Avenue and it should be on your left.”

“Okay, thank you!” Beau grinned. “Oh! Also, do you have the time?”

“Four-fifty three,” The the station attendant said point-blankly as she checked her watch.

“Oh man, I gotta hurry…” Beau breathed as he rushed away from the ticket booth and sprinted back to Andy’s car so quickly he nearly threw himself at the door. He swung the door open as if to tear it off its hinges and leapt inside head-first. The songwriter slammed the door shut and leaned toward Andy with his mouth open wide. “Okay, so—”

Andy dragged the ends of her cardigan sleeves across her face and quickly dried her tears so that her full undivided attention would go directly to Beau. However, guilt consumed him and swallowed his voice whole. He looked at her with a gaze softening in sympathy and regret. There’d be no point in driving on if he couldn’t make things right between them.

“What?” Andy peeped.

“You’re… crying,” Beau choked.

“So what, Beau? It’s not a big deal, a lot of people cry.”

“But Andy—”

“Just tell me where to go, alright? We’re running out of—”

Beau cut Andy off with his abrupt embrace, leaning over the gear shift lever and wrapping his arms around her in a much-needed, well-deserved hug. He squeezed her tightly and tilted his head into her curls. “I’m sorry,” The songwriter uttered in a voice just above a whisper.

“W-What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“C’mon, we don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care, it needs to be said,” Beau declared sternly. “I put you in a dangerous position all because I was too impatient. You must’ve been so scared.” “I mean… yeah,” Andy whispered.

“You’re always sticking your neck out for me even when I’m an ungrateful jerk and don’t listen to you,” Beau continued. “I totally get if you want to turn around and go back home. I’m not so sure I deserve to get to that audition.”

“Beau…” Andy sighed, slowly following suit and curling her arms around the songwriter’s torso. “What you did sucked, but as upsetting as this whole thing has been, we’ve made it too far to turn back now.”

“I know, but we’ve been fighting all day and I hate that I’ve put you under so much stress,” Beau confessed. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

“Do you… want me to turn around?” Andy inquired in mild bewilderment.

“N-Nope, I’m good!” Beau yipped as he snapped back into his seat and loosened his grip on Andy in the blink of an eye.

“Alright,” Andy chuckled.

“But I promise when this is all over, I won’t ask you for anymore crazy favors,” Beau proclaimed proudly. “I won’t take you for granted again.”

“You better mean that,” Andy quirked a brow as she clenched the knob of the gear shift lever and put the car in drive. “Now will you please tell me where to go?”

“You got it,” Beau beamed as they took off down Main Street. “Paramount, here we come!”

The Paramount, 4:59pm

A silver-suited music producer burst through the theater’s double doors with his head in his hands and his designer sunglasses slinking down the bridge of his nose. At his side was his assistant with gorgeously sun-kissed skin and silky blonde waves of hair that draped the sleeves of her jade-black blouse. All hope was lost, and together they faced defeat yet again with vocal dissatisfaction and dismay.

“This is hopeless!” The music producer cried. “All day we’ve been here and not a single person has shown up. You’d think New York would be bursting at the seams with raw talent and desperate wannabes.”

“Which is why I suggested we take this endeavor to New York City instead,” The blonde assistant remarked.

“You know very well I can’t show my face in New York City!” The producer squawked. “Too many… wandering eyes. It’s not safe.”

“So you say,” His assistant sighed. “But perhaps the lack of turnout has something to do with the fact that you hadn’t disclosed your name in the neither the commercial nor the flyers.”

“I couldn’t risk it with the police still sniffing around for me.”

“And yet you still chose to show your face?”

“It’s called an outreach, Rebecca.”

“Still, that seems counterintuitive at best.”

“What are you saying?” The defeated producer narrowed his eyes to slits. “That I can’t find talent on the other side of the country while remaining partially anonymous?”

“I’m saying that no one here is dumb or gullible enough to audition for a nameless music producer with questionable credentials and zero accolades,” Rebecca asserted. “A young, impressionable aspiring star isn’t just going to come running through that—”

“Wait!” Beau shouted as he bolted through the entrance with Andy at his side, his belongings clunking in his hands as they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. “Hold on!”

“—door…” Rebecca trailed off.

“You were saying?” The newly invigorated producer teased.

The two tweens scurried ahead with everything they had and only stopped to catch their breaths once they reached the silver-suited music producer and his disgruntled assistant. Beau lowered his hands to his knees, the top of his guitar case towering over his head like a lurking shadow. Andy followed slowly behind and lowered the guitar amplifier to the floor the second she caught up to Beau.

“This thing weighs a ton!” Andy huffed. “Where’d you get this?”

“If I tell you, you’ll just get mad at me,” Beau panted in reply.

“Wonderful,” Andy remarked sarcastically.

“And who might you be?” Rebecca inquired with a quirked brow.

“My name is Beau Santiago!” Beau beamed, immediately catching his breath and straightening his posture at a moment’s notice. “I’m here about the audition, I wanna be famous!”

“Ha! Blunt and straight to the point,” The producer chuckled. “I like your attitude, kid.”

“Th-Thank you!” Beau rejoiced nervously.

“Are you here about the audition as well?” Rebecca queried, locking eyes with Andy.

“Me? Oh no, I couldn’t,” Andy trembled. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“How sweet,” Rebecca remarked monotonously with a feigned smile. She unsheathed a slip of paper from her clipboard and handed it to Beau. “Fill this out and see us in the theater once you’re done.”

“Sweet!” Beau exclaimed as his eyes loosely skimmed over the contents of the paper.

“And Beau,” The producer added, taking Beau by the hand and caging it in both of his with a firm shake. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Mr. uh…” Beau stammered.

“Hawk. George Hawk,” Hawk replied, a suspiciously mischievous grin forming on his face with the rise of an eerily villainous laugh to follow. “Caw!”

Beau and Andy recoiled in unison from the surprise of Hawk’s sudden avian shriek. It was odd and startling. They shared an awkward glance as Hawk and Rebecca turned on their heels and vanished behind the double doors to the theater. They couldn’t have looked more intimidating than in that moment. The doors swayed in slow motion, repeating their back and forth motions until gradually stopping at their post and shielding the theater from the rest of the world.

Beau was at a standstill. He was seconds away from seizing a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the reality of it was setting in all at once. The songwriter was paralyzed with disbelief and an overwhelming feeling of surreality. It felt as though his feet bound to the floor like wet cement had hardened and dried around the edges and made him statuesque.

“Beau?” Andy peeped. “Are you okay?”

Beau swallowed thickly and gazed at the double doors to the theater with a blank, wide-eyed stare. He stammered and let the consent form tremble and quiver in his clammy, tremoring hands. “I don’t know if I can do this…” he admitted weakly.

“What?!” Andy barked. “After everything we’ve gone through to get here, you’re getting cold feet now?”

“Andy, please!” Beau cried in distress. “Sorry, sorry,” Andy backpedaled. “What’s going on? Are you nervous?”

“No, it’s more than that,” Beau sighed, crinkling the paper as he tightened his grip. “It just feels… different now that I’m here—scary actually.”

“What do you mean?” Andy queried.

“The reality of all this finally set in and now I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Beau confessed wistfully. “I feel like there’s so much pressure on me to give this everything I’ve got and more. I don’t want to mess it up and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if I do.”

“Oh, Beau…”

“You probably think that’s dumb.”

“What? Of course not! You’re the most talented guy I know and if anyone deserves a shot at the big time, it’s you,” Andy assured, clinging to Beau’s right arm and ensnaring it in her embrace. “But no matter what happens, you’re always going to have me in your corner. After all, I am your number one fan.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that,” Beau chuckled quietly.

“Heck yeah I am,” Andy giggled, slinking her hand down to Beau’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze to help him muster up the courage she was certain he’d tucked away. “But let’s start filling out this consent form, okay?”

“Okay,” Beau smiled softly as he leaned his head against Andy’s and locked his fingers in her grasp to keep her at his side for a few moments more.

[cinnabugarts]

A couple queens goin' All City for Halloween! Some BRCF cosplay for the spooky month, hope you enjoy.